Bruised and Scarred [short story]

Part Three: Discovering

"people don't ever get tired of loving. they get tired of waiting, assuming, hearing lies and saying sorry."

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

The annoying tapping on the window continues relentlessly. It sounds like someone using a spoon to tap a crystal wine glass.

A bird, maybe? I wonder to myself as I prepare to stand up. No matter, I'll have to check it out. How am I supposed to sleep with this irritating tapping on my window at 2 a.m.?

In my half-asleep daze, I stumble towards the window, yawning several times. This dang bird had better be worth my time, I think to myself.

However, when I open the window, the sight that greets me is one that surprises me tremendously.

"You?" I'm fully awake in an instant, fueled by my disbelief and astonishment. "What are you doing?" I laugh incredulously as I peer out of the window, gazing down at the grinning boy in my yard. He's been throwing pebbles at my window!

Either I've just woken up to find that they're filming another cheesy Disney movie in my backyard, or this boy has been watching too many of said cheesy Disney movies.

"Come down!" He half-yells, his lips quirking into a smirk. "I need to show you something!"

"Fine, just give me a second!" I shout back, before hurrying out of my room and down the stairs. When I open the front door, he greets me, all smiles and twinkling eyes. "What are you doing here at this time? You do know that when I said okay, I didn't mean this, right?" I tease. He chuckles, before grabbing my wrist. I redden at his touch, but somehow, I feel at ease around him. And that both scares and fascinates me.

"Follow me," he drags me to the side of the house, with me half-tripping over my feet as I stumble after him. We stop in front of a ladder propped up against the side of the house, just tall enough to touch the roof. "Come on," he calls over his shoulder as he climbs up with surprising agility.

All my fears and doubts promptly hit me again like a ton of bricks, and I shrink away. I can't do this. I'm not good enough to do this. Why am I even talking to him at this hour? My hair is probably a rat's nest, and I definitely look terrible. I should leave now, while I still can.

Then, after the false utopia you build for yourself, you come crashing back down to earth. 

"I-I can't," I murmur. "I don't have the-the skills to do it." He regards me in amusement.

"Oh, don't give me this again," he sighs, shaking his head. "Trust me. I will never let you fall."

As I look at his beseeching brown eyes, I can't help but feel a sense of warmth wash over me. Trust. I need to trust him. It's the least I can do, especially after he's done so much for me.

"Okay. Okay," I take a deep breath, gripping the metal sides of the ladder. My face pales as I glance down at the shoes I'm wearing. I'd just randomly swiped a pair of shoes from the shoe rack, and it was just my luck that I'd picked a pair of heels. They were three-inch wedges, moderately girly with dark red ribbons and glossy rounded tips. I was always more inclined towards sneakers, and the wedges were a present from my mother, who'd always wished for me to be more 'feminine'.

"Yeah, you can do it," he calls out encouragingly. He's perched on the edge of the roof, which looms menacingly high above me. But I have to do it. For him. For me.

I take a shaky, hesitant step onto the first step of the ladder. There are about twenty-five 'rungs'. Breathe, I mentally tell myself. You can do this. Slowly, I climb the ladder, reaching the top with both relief and shock in my heart. For once, I haven't failed.