[In Progress] Here I sit alone in my basement, while my family sits upstairs as normal as can be. I constantly wait for her words to call me up, to play another one of her sick games. The bruises on my body are all from her and the tears I cry are all for her. I just want someone to save me from this hell.

[✓] ∥ "Cloe." "Cloe?" "Yes, Cloe." "...As in Lorena Cloe?" "How many Cloes do we know?" The taller of the two college boys looked across the bar, at the brunette who was sitting at a table in the corner. She was drinking Coke and talking to her friend, which he recently realized is a routine of hers. He knew her well; from the hallways, as well as class. He knew she spent days with her head in a book, or talking to the same group of people. There was nothing really special about her, nor did she catch anyone's eye for longer than five seconds. It confused him how she seemed to like it that way. He also knew that she was not just hard to get, but nearly impossible to. For someone as confident as him, he doubted himself quite a bit when it came to her. Nevertheless, he turned to his friend, a relaxed and casual look on his face, making him seem almost bored. "Deal." - Watty Awards 2013 Winner - Copyright © 2013 by funkystyles

"It hurt because it mattered."