Never Have I Ever Fallen in Love

Chapter 25

A/N-I just wanted to say...I haven't gone into a lot of detail -far from it in fact- but this chapter contains the idea of sexual abuse. Nothing happens but there are signs to strongly suggest it. I just thought I would metion this so you know to skip the chapter if you're uncomfortable reading about that stuff. I felt uncomfortable writing it but I just feel as though it adds to the story line and Daryl's feelings towards Scout...

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DARYL'S POV

'Just because you like her,' the voice inside my head jeered, 'doesn't mean you have to be a pussy.'

I screwed my face up and sighed. The level of guilt and fear I felt heightened by just thinking of her.

She was perfect. In every way possible. No doubt about that. She always had been, ever since the first time I saw her. I was at her house, probably high as hell or drunk-or both, god knows-, when I first layed my eyes on her. She wasn't like the rest of the female population in this town. Hell no. She was different, in numerous ways, and she sure as hell used it as an advantage on me. I dunno if she was doing it on purpose or if she was just ignorant towards the fact that she could make any guy in the neighbourhood do anything-anything-but she really was different. In the best way possible, of course. I was used to all of those other 'women' stumbling around, unable to handle their drink as well as the puke that came from within them. Sure, they weren't bad once you got to know them, some even had a scrap of personality to offer, but I'd much rather spend my last minute of life with this girl than an hour with one of those. It might have given me an extra 59 minutes of life, but hell, my life ain't nothing to positively reflect on. Until I met her, of course.

She held a mysterious atmosphere around her and I feel it's necessary to say this: she never moaned. She never complained or whimpered or cowered away from anything. She ran at it-whatever the 'it' is in a particular circumstance-head first and fought until she was close to death. She was different and it's what I loved about her.

As well as her attitude being different, her looks were as well. I ain't one to go around being so shallow as to judge people on their appearance. I would barely look at myself in a puddle as a kid because I knew what would be staring back at me would not be what I wanted, so why would I try and determine someone on their hair or their face without even talking to them first? This girl though...she had long dark hair that she carelessly threw over her shoulder when stressed or angry-and a lot of the time I was around, she was often one of those two things. It contrasted with the piercing green eyes that could bore into you the second you walk into the room and would refuse to leave you until she desired them to. Her eyes, though piercing and bright in colour, looked empty and dead. The green orbs that stared at you didn't judge. They didn't mock nor sneer at you in a menacing manner. They just stared, motionless and lifeless. That's what you get form belonging to a broken family though. She was broken. I was broken.

So then what happened? She found me perfect, our feelings totally mutual, and we made it through the hell hole called life together, right? We lived happily ever after for ever and ever and we had three perfect kids and a house and decent jobs and a family dog. Right? Right!? Wrong. That sort of bullshit happens in the movies, maybe, but out here, where life is terrifyingly real and confusing to everyone to ever stumble into it's path, it doesn't. It never does.

Sure, we eventually got together. We loved each other in a weird sense. I loved her, she loved me, that much was true. We were both broken and, slowly but surely, we mentally nursed one another back to a semi-living state that we both once had over the years. We were on that road of having a perfect life together and we both knew it. But hey, in every 'fairy tale' life, there's gotta be some sort of evil to cruelly rip the two lovers apart.