The Day He Died
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- Parts 12
His parting words to me were beautifully bittersweet but that was before everything happened. Before they became so devastating that they tore my heart and soul apart, not ever to be mended again. He told me "You know I'll always love you, right, Vanessa? Forever. And if forever ever ends, then I'll love you from the beginning all over again."
But how? How would he love me all over again if he was gone. Never to touch my skin again, to tell me those words again, to tell me he will never leave me broken. That he won't shatter into dust just like he did that night when he left me to fight alone in this world. Every single day I wait for the day that he'll love me from the beginning all over again.
My favorite memory of him seems to always loom in my head underneath the cloud of darkness.
It was as if destiny was calling and I got up and ran to him meeting him halfway. "Vanessa." He murmured, the words coming out his mouth surprised him as much as they surprised me.
"Austin..." the word barely a whisper. He was someone so dear to me. But we couldn't remember. We were broken. Shattered. Lost. Not remembering. But this... This was the beginning or maybe it was the end-- but all I knew was that it was something beautiful.
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amnesia-love-story
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Part 2 : His Silence, My Storm - Drowning In Hope
They say love begins in silence... but no one ever warns you how deeply it hurts when that silence never ends. This is not a love story. It is a story of almosts - of late-night conversations that lingered too long, unspoken feelings that grew too heavy, and eye contact that somehow meant everything... yet nothing at all. She loved him quietly. And when she finally tried to speak, he never listened in the way her heart needed him to. So she became patient. She became understanding. She became everything for him... except chosen. And somewhere between unsent messages, mixed signals, and words left hanging in the air, she realized something heartbreaking- Love does not always destroy you loudly. Sometimes... it slowly drowns you in silence.Complete
𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝟏𝟎
Hughie Biggs. The love of my bloody life. The fella I swore I'd grow old with, get a ring on my finger from, have the big church wedding, the lot. I used to lie awake at night and picture his hand in mine, picture his laugh bouncing off the walls of our kitchen. Back then, I didn't have the faintest clue about the way the world could chew you up and spit you out. I remember us when we were younger, before everything went sour. When Caoimhe was still alive, when her laugh could still fill a room. When I still had friends-real ones, the kind you'd sit on the green with till it got dark, passing a bag of crisps around, talking rubbish and thinking it meant the world. Back then, we were untouchable, or so we thought. But nothing lasts, does it? Not love, not family, not even friendship. Everything rots eventually, like fruit left out too long. Secrets crawl their way to the surface no matter how deep you bury them, and when they do, they choke you. That's what happened to me. That's what happened to Hughie. The truth came crawling, and it ruined everything. So I've made up my mind. I can't stay here, not in this cursed town, not walking the same streets where his hand used to brush mine, where Caoimhe used to skip beside me, where I laughed like I actually believed in tomorrow. It's all poisoned now. Every corner, every memory, every face that looks at me like they know more than they should. I'm leaving. For good this time. I'll pack a bag, take nothing but what I can carry, and I'll vanish before anyone can stop me. No goodbyes, no explanations. Just gone. Because the truth is, there's nothing left here for me anymore-only ghosts, and I've had enough of them to last me a lifetime.
𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝟖
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Brian O'Neill. The coldest fella Tommen's has ever seen-or so they say. And I get it. He walks down the halls like he owns the place, never says much unless he has to, face like it's carved out of marble, always unreadable. He's like a winter prince-untouchable, a bit terrifying, and way too beautiful to be real. But he's mine. He's my boyfriend. He makes my heart beat like a bloody war drum every time he so much as looks at me with that stormy gaze of his. Protective to a fault. He'd burn the whole world down if it meant keeping his siblings safe. They're everything to him-his whole bleeding heart, even if he acts like he hasn't got one. And he fights. Not schoolyard scuffles. Not rugby scraps. I'm talking about underground, illegal fights. The kind you don't talk about. The kind you pray he walks away from. *** Daisy Biggs. If sunshine had a body and a runway walk, it'd be her. She's Ireland's it girl-covers of magazines, Vogue campaigns, CHANEL deals before she was even out of third year. Everyone knows her name. Every girl wants to be her, and every lad stares a bit too long when she walks past. But she's mine. She's my girlfriend. Yeah-me. The cold bastard with blood on his knuckles and bruises under his hoodie. I don't know how I pulled her, honest to God. Maybe 'cause she sees something in me no one else bothers to look for. But we keep it quiet. No one at Tommen's knows. Can't risk the papers finding out, or the other students. She's soft with me. Gentle in a way that makes me forget I've got cuts across my ribs or a busted lip. When I show up to her place, bleeding or shaking or just not right in the head after a fight, she never freaks. She just pulls me in, cleans me up, and wraps her arms around me like I'm something worth saving. I know she hates the fights. Hates what they do to me. Hates what I have to do to win. But what am I supposed to do? When you've got a da who treats you like a weapon, you learn real quick that choices are a luxury.Complete
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