Playing With Fire - COMPLETED

Chapter twenty-one - you are magic, don't ever apologise for the fire in you

Chapter twenty-one – you are magic, don't ever apologise for the fire in you

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He set a fire to the world around him, but he never let a flame touch her.

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Terror. Disgust.

I don't really know. It's kind of a toss-up when you wake up covered in blood.

"argh fuck me! not again."

"hey babe, are you doing something without me or watching porn?"

"fuck you!"

"you can... wait you're not giving birth, are you? Because this sounds. Lot like when my mum gave birth to Annabelle." A pause. "are you listening?"

"yes, it just takes me a while to process so much stupid all at once." Little did he know that it was quite the opposite of a pregnancy.

"what is going on?"

"leave me." one step. "come back here."

"okay I know that you're 'going through something' but you really need to work out what you want me to do. C'mon."

"please go but can you fetch me my grey makeup bag. Top of the counter. Kitchen. It's open. Don't drop anything out of it." Seriously why am I always menstruating around him.

"Alessia are you home?" her mother called out.

"shit." She muttered. "upstairs. Coming." She walked downstairs to see noah shake hands with both her parents and see her mother envelope noah in a hug.

"Noah Perkins. I remember you. You used to be friends with Alessia before...." She trailed off then disappeared into the kitchen.

It seemed like we were perfectly fine. Like he'd forgiven me too easily, but I knew deep done he wasn't completely moved on. Here's the thing. You don't get better overnight just like other things; the flu, a broken leg, paper cut, self-harm, anxiety etc. therefore the memory and the pain I inflicted on him I couldn't expect it to disappear in 12 hours.

He said to me, well screamed at me: "I cannot make you understand what happened and how I felt. I cannot make anyone, and everyone understand what happens in my mind and my soul. Sometimes I can't even explain the pain to myself. You have to understand this though, I'm still healing as are you." The past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited or erased. It can only be accepted.

"what are you thinking about?" Noah nudged me. we were on the couch. I tried to shake away the memory of the last time we were sat on the couch.

"Nothing. Can you excuse me?" I ran upstairs. I cowered over the toilet, emptied my stomach in chucks, of yellow and green. Bad mental image I know. I rummaged through my makeup bag until I found what I was looking for; the thing that would ease the pain. I hissed in pain. Whilst fumbling around I had simultaneously cut my pointer finger. I sucked out the blood then set the razor against my thigh.

"Lexi..."

"no. get out Noah."

"I thought we were getting better."

"no I'm bad for you. I mess you up. I will end up stabbing you with a razor-sharp piece of my broken heart."

I stuffed things in my bag; passport, phone, wallet, extra pads, makeup etc. I left Reece a text message and ran out the back door. Noah was wrong, I do have to keep running. Some people are good at singing, sports, academics, spelling bees, dance competitions but that wasn't me. I was good a running and I wasn't giving it up. I didn't want to corrupt Noah more. I needed him far away from me but there was an inch, the inch that contradicted everything the rest of my heart and body felt.

N O A H ' S

P O I N T

O F

V I E W

I hope my absence hits you. I hope it hits you so hard that you can never get up.

There are people you'll never see again. At least not in the same way

Its no surprise to me that things have turned out like this

She tried to forget me, but I know she never would

I reached into my locker and found a piece of paper, no envelope or address. Just a poem and I knew immediately who it was from.

Dazed and confused

Brooding and unknown

My feelings are carved

Just on some stone

Once a pretty azalea now a wilting rose

Will I get better nobody really knows?

You used to look at me smile, now you just stare

The place we once stood

Now abandoned and alone

Will I ever find my true home?

· me

that's the thing about expectations, you're always a little disappointed.