To Write LOVE On Their Arms

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by SeparateLivesSeparateLovers, May 7, 2013.

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  1. I hated myself.

    I hated the snow that was still on the ground in May, the cold that cuts through my jacket in the morning. I hated ti see disappointment in my parent's eyes and hate in my siblings- The only release I can find is in my guitar, the only escape in books I devour like a starving man.

    "Nova." My mother said sternly now, and I lifted my eyes from my guitar to see her stand in the doorway, glaring at me like I was an intruder, careful not to meet her eyes directly. And I was, in all technicalities; I was considered the black sheep of my family. Her face was otherwise blank, and I let out a rush of air and braced myself.

    "What?" I asked warily, attempting to not sound as defensive as I usually did when someone was glaring at me like she was now. "Adrianne is missing her camera," she replied. I raised an eyebrow. "And...?" I tried not to glare at her now. I used to take things, when I got angry, or depressed. Not anymore- I no longer had the energy to do much. Not with the weight I've been forced to carry. "Did you take her camera, Nova?" my mother demanded now.

    "No," I said, anger rising in my chest. I wished they would just leave me alone. I was tired of going through this. "I didn't." My word was shit to her, so she preceded to search my room, then coming up empty. She rounded on me. "Where is her camera?" she yelled. I lifted a shoulder, feeling tears sting my eyes. "I don't know," I whispered.

    She pursed her lips. "Tomorrow morning, if that camera's not on the table..." she didn't finish her threat, and she didn't need to. I knew what would happen- solitary confinement. Again. But this time would be different. I wouldn't be here tomorrow morning.


    The stars above me glinted like a knife in sunlight as I trudged across the field that was adjacent to my home, if I could even call it a home. A cluster of trees resided in the center, where I was headed. I was positive I hadn't woken anyone.

    I clutched a container of pills in one hand, a bottle of straight vodka in the other. I didn't belong here, with this curse of mine, this secret that was always at the forefront of my mind, always careful to never look anyone in the eye. I was tired of seeing their secrets, their lives. It was too much, and I couldn't handle it anymore. I just wanted peace.

    I remembered once when I was younger, my oldest brother died. My parents told me that it 'was his time,' but I knew differently when I looked into my dead brother's eyes. I hadn't known I could still see his life, and I'd cried out in surprise and pain when I watched him die all over again, shot by who I'd come to call 'Uncle Jim', for money. I knew by then not to tell.


    The pills were gone , and I took one last swig from the bottle of vodka. The world around me now was deliciously spinning and blurred at the edges. Finally, I think. What a relief. I closed my eyes. They were too heavy to keep open, anyway, and I started to drift.



    My first thought was that I was dead.

    My second was oh, shit. The lights, I could tell without opening my eyes, were hospital-bright, not heaven-bright. Although I didn't believe in a God. The notion that someone was watching over us and judging us singularly, was ridiculous.

    Someone must have heard my monitor beep a little faster, because I heard someone take a sharp intake of breath. I opened my eyes and squinted against the light, my head starting to throb.
    "Nova," someone said, emotionless. My mother. She continued speaking, without my consent that i was actually conscious.

    "I'm sending you away."

    --Three weeks later--

    I barely glanced up at the sign as I entered the school building. I knew what this was already. A facility for troubled kids. Like me. The secretary was old and looked at me down her beaked nose. "Yes?" she said, in an I-really-don't-care tone of voice.

    "I'm Nova Olsson," I muttered, looking at my shoes. She nodded. "The new student. Your key is right here, to your room. 215B." She gave me an envelope. I took it and gave her a nod of thanks, and walked right into someone.
  2. Allistair brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, trying his best to avoid running into someone. He was skinny as a beanpole, yet he towered above the heads of many of his classmates, and when he ran into someone, it was like a giraffe had fallen, not at all graceful and able to make many others fall as well. On top of that, Allistair wasn't the most sure-of-foot as others, and easily tripped.

    How many more days? he asked himself. Six months, two weeks, and three days Then, I'm gone. I graduate, and I'm gone. Immediately after graduation, Allistair planned to be driving all the way across the country, as far away from this damnable city as he could get. He'd get an education, go to college and get a job, and then he would have his entire life ahead of him. Just six more months.

    Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he rounded the corner to the front office, needing to turn in a paper for graduation.

    As he turned, a girl barreled into him.

    Letting out a shout, he fell backwards, knocking his head on the linoleum floor as he hit the ground. Dazed for a few moments, he looked up at whoever had assaulted him, prepared to get into a shouting match or a fight, whichever the girl wanted. "The hell?" he asked, his voice rising, as he pushed himself up, his dark eyes glaring at her, his left eye concealed by the dark hair over that side of his face.
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  3. Nova stared in shock. She couldn't see his life.

    She didn't know his name, or how he got here, or why he was here. All she could see was the annoyance in his darkened eyes. And something else- a kind of sorrow that she herself saw in the mirror every morning. She wondered briefly why he was so sad, then regained her composure. "I'm sorry," she apologized quietly. "I didn't mean to knock you over like that." He was very handsome, she noticed, and very tall. His hair fell into his eyes, but instead of making him look younger, it made him look edgier.

    "I hope you're not too hurt," she said, actually feeling sorry for once. Maybe it was because she was so tired, but a real smile touched her lips. "I'm Nova," she introduced herself. "And you are...?"
  4. Cursing under his breath as he pushed himself to his feet, Allistair glared at the girl, picking up the folded piece of paper that he had dropped. Stuffing it into his pocket, he rubbed the back of his head, feeling for blood. He wasn't bleeding, but now his head was pounding and he was sure that there would be a bump on his head in a few minutes.

    Watching her as she apologized to him, he responded to her introduction with, "Allistair." She was pretty, he thought as he looked at her. At least, she wasn't like some of the other girls here, like the ones with scars lining their arms or big, angry boils on their faces. But she did have a certain sadness that was odd for him to see here, there hidden in the depths of her eyes.

    "Don't have time for this," he muttered, brushing past her. Olive-colored fingers curled around the doorknob to the office, and he opened the door, stepping inside.
  5. I nodded to his name. It was different, like mine. I had another question on my tongue as he brushed past me, saying he didn't have time. I looked down at my dorm assignment. Oh, shit, I thought- I had no idea where to go, and I was opposed to talking to other people, for the moment. He didn't look as scary as the other people, and I didn't want to know anyone. Allistair, the sorrowful boy that was a mystery to me.

    It had been half an hour, and I found myself in section C of the dorms, about a hundred in. I was completely lost, and I sighed, shouldering my bags and ready to just collapse on the floor and cry. At least it wasn't a school day; classes started in a week, but the school requires everyone to be here early to 'get settled in', or, as I interpreted it, a way for the faculty to figure out the most and least troubled. I knew I was in the 'most' category, but the teachers would take in my quiet questions, calm demeanor, and fake smiles, and relax. There was a wall of windows up ahead with seats, and I sat down, grateful. I still was lost, still carrying my two carry-on bags, which had become awkward to lug around and really quite heavy.

    I rubbed the space above my eyebrow and sighed again.
  6. Allistair turned in the paper and held an extremely brief talk with his counselor about graduation and if he would have enough credits to graduate, already knowing how that he would. He had been planning for graduation since his sophomore year, when he'd been forced to go to the school. He'd done all he could to keep his grades in the A-B range, so that he would have a good GPA for college, stayed in classes late, took extra classes, joined a couple clubs and volunteer groups, but he knew that in the end it would all work out, as long as Allistair got into the college he wanted.

    Leaving the office, he walked down the halls, making for the library. However, just as he was passing the doors to the commons area, he ran into a guy who had seemed to have it out for Allistair since the first day of school. Ignoring the bombardment of curse words and threats, he tried to get past the kid, but was interrupted by a swift, hard blow to his abdomen.

    Yelling out a curse, Allistair returned the blow to the boy's nose, making sure he heard a crack. Before he could do anything else, and too quick for him to see, Allistair found himself lying on the cold linoleum, dazed. The boy made to aim a kick at Allistair's head, but a nearby teacher grabbed the boy pulling him away from Allistair.

    Groaning, Allistair sat up, but in the end, both of them were taken to the headmaster's office, and given stern talking-tos. When he was allowed to leave, Allistair walked away, new bruises forming where he'd been struck. As he was walking to his dorm room, not in the mood for the library anymore, he came across a small commons area, and found the girl, Nova, from earlier. Deciding to ignore her and walk past her, he hoped she wouldn't notice him, not in the mood for more interacting with the opposite sex.
  7. I looked up in time to see the boy from earlier, Allistair, stalk past me, his expression one of that he wanted to be left alone. But I couldn't sit here all day, and he was the only familiar face. So I grabbed my bags and caught up with him, noticing the way he held himself. Like he'd been injured. I furrowed my eyebrows and asked, "Are you alright?"

    I really was not used to feeling empathy for someone, so I flushed after asking. "I won't leave you alone, either," I replied to his sullen silence. "I'm kind of lost, and you're the least-scary looking person around here." I smirked. I was going to be as annoying as hell, but I wasn't one to give up. I would not stay lost.
  8. Allistair frowned immediately as she stopped him, his dark eyes brooding and shadowed. Sighing softly, almost inaudibly, he could hardly hold back a wry grin at the phrase, "Least-scary." In his opinion, he thought that some girl who was new to the school would be worried about approaching a boy who looked so...strange. He felt that he looked strange, but he also would have to remind himself that other people didn't know the old scars that hid underneath his clothes.

    Feeling like he was almost trapped, he sighed again before muttering, "Fine. Where are you going? I probably know where it is." He didn't like playing the job of tour guide, but he felt he had no choice, especially since she had said that she wouldn't leave him alone.
  9. I felt a small surge of victory before I answered, "Obviously, I'm trying to find my dorm, since I still have my bags. 215B." Sarcasm was a language to me, and I was fluent in it. I noticed a small smile lace his lips before he'd corrected himself. "Thank you, by the way," I said, my voice softening a little.

    I stepped in front of Allistair and placed a hand on his chest to stop him. "Wait a second." I could feel his muscles tense under his shirt, and I quickly dropped my hand. "What happened to you?" I could tell he was in pain.
  10. Refusing to let any emotion pass his face when the girl placed a hand on his chest, Allistair blinked in mild surprise at her question. It wasn't often that others cared about the other students of the school, and Allistair didn't really know how to react to it. In the normal schools he had been in and out of during his childhood, no one had bothered with the olive-skinned youth who rarely spoke, and who would usually sit by himself in public places. He had learned how to act like he was halfway-normal in recent years, and had once had a couple people that he would call friends, but that was years ago.

    When Allistair gathered his thoughts and got over his surprise at Nova's question, he said, "I got into a fight. That's it. I ran into the wrong person, and broke some bastard's nose."
  11. I, unlike Allistair, cracked a smile. "I hope it was worth it, then," I replied seriously, noting his blank look and surprise. Apparently, people weren't too kind to people here. For the first time in her life, I wished I knew him, wished I could know exactly what to say to this sorrowful boy. But I didn't, and I blew air out of my mouth quietly.

    "Thanks," I said to him when he showed me to my dorm ten minutes later- apparently I had been walking in circles the past half hour, failed to notice the narrow hallway lined with doors. There was a light out over the entrance, but there were a lot of lights out. They would probably fix it before school began, but couldn't care less beforehand.

    I unpacked my bags slowly after I thought he'd gone, watching him walk away for a moment before turning to unlock the door to my room. My guitar case was propped up against my bed, my several other, heavier bags stacked carefully against the far wall. I wouldn't other with them yet- I had the strong urge to play Pink Floyd on my guitar.

    I tuned it quickly and capoed it up to the standard tuning, since I always had my guitar tuned down to a drop D tuning for playing the more melancholy songs. Strumming a B minor to begin with, transitioning into an A chord and then a G, I began to sing the chorus, quietly at first, then gaining a little in volume.

    "There is no pain you are receding
    A distant ship smoke on the horizon
    You are only coming through in waves
    Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying..."
  12. After showing Nova where her room was, Allistair, without a word, left her, knowing that he could get in trouble if he was caught in the girls' dorms. However, as he was beginning to walk down the stairs, he heard the soft sounds of a girl singing accompanied by a guitar. Stopping, Allistair went back to the hallway, leaning against a wall as he listened.

    Whoever was singing had a lovely voice. Moving further down the hall, it didn't take long to discover that it was coming from the same room that Nova had gone into. A frown gracing his face, he leaned against the wall next to her room, listening to the soft, sweet voice.

    ((Sorry for the short reply))
  13. ((No problems, I don't care unless it's a one-liner!And oh, lookie, another long one xD I always use third person for memories...))

    I moved my fingers quickly, capoing up another key to play another song, my fingers picking on the chords C, G, AM, and F. The Calling had been one of her favorite bands for a long time, and it sucked me into a memory that I'd'd rather not remember, but I couldn't stop.

    Nova opened her eyes in confusion. I was cold and wondered dazedly if she had opened her window last night or if her sister had put firewood on the wood stove last night, briefly, before it all came crashing down on her, her memories snapping suddenly and painfully into place like a rubber band against her skin. She sat upright, gasping, nearly fainting again at the sight of Josh’s body. Nova looked around her and noticed his phone, lying beside her with a folded piece of paper trapped in between the screen and the keypad. She retrieved the paper and slid it into a zippered pocket on her jacket, flipping open the phone as she did so. He must have placed them beside her when he’d kissed her. Message sent, the screen read and she noted it had been sent to Josh’s brother, Theo.
    Her mouth pressed into a tight line as she dialed his number from memory and put it to her ear. “Josh?” Theo answered, breathless. She closed her eyes and blew air out through her nose. He’d read whatever Josh sent him and was freaking out, as he wasn’t familiar with the meeting place and she doubted Josh had given him directions. “Theo,” she said and he made a choked sound, like a dying animal. “Where are you?” he asked after a minute, his voice carefully composed and flat. She gave him directions and the line went dead, causing her to sigh and flip the phone shut.
    Josh. Beautiful, brooding Josh who had taught her so much about life, about writing and music. She’d never liked pop, or any of the like, favoring The Classic Crime, Led Zeppelin, and Panic! At the Disco. She tightened her hand into a fist, her fingernails digging into her palm and drawing blood. She used the pain to stand and make her way slowly to him. The gun was lying beside him in the snow, and she could barely look at what the gun had done to him. Thankfully his face was still intact; his eyes wide open, staring at the stars that had observed him all his life. She reached out and closed them; suddenly realizing she had fallen to her knees. It didn’t help. Josh didn’t look like he might’ve been sleeping, he looked dead. Nova barely stopped a sob escaping from her lips.
    She pulled out and looked at the folded paper. For Nov, my little star, it read in Josh’s familiar hand, like a work of art all on his own. She found she was afraid to open it, to read whatever was inside. Was it a poem? A note? She was unsure, so she stuck it back in the zippered pocket as she heard footsteps behind her, crushing the nearly virgin snow.
    Theo stood there, staring at Josh’s body. His eyes were bloodshot from the whiskey he held in one hand and the tears that had frozen on his face, like hers. She shifted, new tears forming in her eyes in response to his pain and his eyes shifted to her. Darkened.
    “Why?” he whispered. “Why didn’t you stop him?” The pain was palpable on his face, as was the accusation and drunken anger. He took a step towards her, and she stumbled back a step, afraid of this stranger with the face she knew like Josh’s, like her own. Her heart beat wildly.
    “You could have stopped him!” he yelled. “Could’ve gotten him help! But you just sat there, you stupid bitch, like the coward you are!” The sob finally escaped her lips, and that only seemed to agitate him further, sending him spiraling into drunken rage. “You should’ve taken that gun from him! Should’ve died with him, for all the use you ever were to him!” This made her flinch as if she’d been hit and tried to back away from him again, but he stepped on her foot and she fell to the ground, catching her head on a patch of ice. She lay there, dazed as he laid a knee on her stomach, pressing the air from her lungs. “Theo, please…” she choked, but he was beyond listening as he took a penknife from his pocket. He placed it beside her eye, pressing down until he drew blood, slicing into her skin. She cried out softly in pain as a thin line of blood ran down towards her ear like a tear.
    She found it hard to breathe, but she tried to get through to him anyway. “Theo,” she whispered, choking on the air that left her mouth. His hand stilled suddenly, the knife poised directly above her eye. She tensed her torso, breathed shakily. “He… wouldn’t want you… to do this. Please… Think. Mourn with… me.”
    Theo swayed slightly, drawing away his hand. She felt her blood trickle into her ear now and tried not to flinch. “Get off me.” She gasped. “Please.” Nova used her hand to tap his knee, and he moved so he was kneeling beside her, his head bowed in sorrow.
    “Josh…” he murmured, and then he was crying profoundly, his shoulders shaking as his grief pressed down on him, shrink him down until he cried like a child.
    Nova sat up and stayed with him until his cried quieted considerably. She was cold, but that didn’t begin to compare to what she was feeling, what she needed to press down and hide come morning. Finally, he looked up at her, his eyes hard in determination. “Go home, Nov,” he said, using Josh’s name for her to show he was serious. “I’ll- I’ll take care of this. It will be like…” he looked up towards the stars. “Like we never existed.” The cold seemed to have stolen some of his stupor, and she nodded, climbing to her feet.
    “Here,” she said, folding the quilt for him. “His writing is in here, in a slit he made with a knife.” She placed the quilt beside him. “Keep this safe.” He nodded and she walked slowly across the field, her long stride gone.

    I had stopped playing abruptly, and found myself crying.
  14. As Allistair listened, he found his mind drifting.

    "Come on, Alli," Evie said as she tugged at his jacket sleeve, her pretty smile somehow brightening the darkness that normally clouded Allistair's eyes. The couple looked odd together, Evie more than eighteen inches shorter than Allistair, her hair now dyed a beautiful dark blue color. She was as skinny as he was, too, though with her height it looked more natural on her. Both of their friends had made quips about them, questioning after their future wedding and if Allistair would actually sweep her off her feet and carry her out of the chapel."Let's go spend the night in the graveyard gran and I had an argument this morning, and I don't want to go home."

    Allistair agreed, both because of Evie and because he knew that he didn't want to go back to his home either, not ever if he could manage it. It had been snowing that night, the first snows of the season, and Evie always loved to sleep in the graveyard then, with Allistair holding her in his arms.

    After school, Allistair and Evie walked to the nearby church and its accompanying cemetery, both clad in jackets to fight the cold. Allistair had made sure to bring the soft blanket that he kept in his locker for occasions just like this, as well as some food from the snack machines he had bought at lunch. Once in the cemetery, the two went to the back, where the older graves were and where not many people came. Laying out his jacket so Evie could lie down on it, he slowly slid down next to her, slipping his hand into hers.

    "What's keeping us here, Alli?" she asked, looking into his eyes as snow fell into her hair and onto her eyelashes. "I mean, why do we still put up with this shit we deal with at school? We could make it in the big cities, I've got my drawing and you've got you're incredible, smart mind. Sure, it'd be hard the first few months, and we might sleep in parks sometimes, but I know that we'd have a great house sometime soon..." She smiled up at him, trying to be convincing. The two had always talked about running away, to New York or Chicago, but Allistair had always been the one to convince Evie that they should get through high school first.

    That night, Allistair slept with Evie in his arms, the blanket thrown over them against the snow and the cold.

    And that morning, everything fell apart. As Allistair was walking Evie home, her grandmother picked her up, threatening to call the police on Allistair for kidnapping and raping her granddaughter, even though Allistair had done nothing of the sort. She had packed up their house, and was moving the two away from where Allistair could get to her, all the way across the country.

    Allistair really ran away then, though not to the big cities that he had always wanted to go. Instead, he found himself downtown, sleeping in old, abandoned buildings, and mixing with others who had done the same. He felt like nothing without Evie, and each day he pined for her, and each night he prayed that someday he could be with her again.

    Five months passed, and by then the police had found him after his father finally got around to reporting his absence to the police. When they finally found him, and saw the way his father treated him, they had sent him to the school until they deemed his father well enough to care for him or for Allistair to graduate. Allistair was hoping that he would graduate first, for reasons only Evie ever really knew, but he still feared that the state would deem it safe for Allistair to go home. Sure, he hated the school, but he also hated home more.

    When Allistair came back to his senses, he couldn't hear the music anymore. To keep himself from shouting in anger or despair, like he wanted to, Allistair ran down the hallways, making a run for his own dorm, which was in the D section. Locking the door behind him, he sank against the door, feeling like screaming at the top of his lungs.

    ((YAY memories! xD))
  15. I wiped the tears from my eyes, emotionally spent, and placed my guitar back in its case. I looked out the window, unsure of what to do. As I stood and peeked out my doorway, and unmistakeable smell hit me. I rubbed above my eyebrow. Damn, someone's smoking weed, I thought, and wondered how whoever was smoking was getting away with it.

    Out of curiosity, I followed the smell until it led me to dorm 210B. Without hesitation, I knocked. I noticed music was playing loudly, and there was lots of laughing. Someone opened the door a crack. "Who is it?" a male voice called. "A student," was my reply, and apparently the correct answer. The door opened wide enough for me to edge through and find myself toe-to-toe with the speaker, a pale blond boy wearing an oversized hoodie. "Enjoy," he grinned.
  16. Allistair remained in bed until late, and it was around dinnertime. Not feeling like eating, but knowing that many of the teachers would be extremely upset if he didn't eat, and he'd get in trouble, he forced himself to get up. Slouching down the stairs towards the cafeteria, he tried to avoid anybody, especially the girl. She reminded him of Evie, vaguely and for reasons he did not know, and it made him have to relive memories that he didn't want to relive. As he was walking down the stairs, he could smell someone smoking weed in a room down the B hallway, but he ignored it, wanting to be clear-minded if anything should happen.

    Getting the smallest meal they would let him have, he sank down onto a chair at a table as far away from others as possible. People gave him weird looks, whispering about the fight he had been in earlier. The supervisors were giving him looks, too, worried he might try to start something again.

    Sighing heavily, Allistair picked at his food, one hand propping his head up.
  17. I smiled back at the boy. "I will," I purred, and his smile became a little wider, in anticipation, I assumed. He offered me a joint and I took it, inhaling deeply and holding it for a few seconds before blowing it towards the ceiling. I handed it to him and watched as he took quite a large hit before releasing it. I was expecting it when he took my chin in his hand and kissed me roughly, and I lost myself in that kiss. I always found my form of escape, from these memories, these dreams.

    I didn't know anyone. I no longer cared.
  18. After eating, Allistair took the longer way through the B hallway to his room, knowing that a couple people from his hallway were heading back to their dorms. Sighing heavily, he heard loud music, and again could smell weed. A door at the end of the hall was open, and out poured smoke and the music.

    Glancing inside, Allistair couldn't help but see Nova kissing a guy he recognized. "Unless you want to get raped by that convicted felon, I'd stop kissing him. I heard that he's in here because his mom lied in court, saying his dad raped him, or some junk." Shaking his head, he chuckled humorlessly before continuing on his way, not caring about any repercussions.
  19. That was when I looked in the boy's eyes for the first time, and I flinched- Allistair was right. I pushed him away and followed out after him, abandoning one of my only means of escape in favor of better -or maybe healthier- company. When I caught up to him, I grabbed his shoulder to stop him and then moved infront of him.

    "What the hell, Allistair?" I glared at him, again shocked by how I couldn't see him. I searched his eyes, but again, I couldn't see anything. "Who are you?" I wondered aloud.
  20. Allistair could barely hold back a sigh when he felt the girl place her hand on his shoulder. Frowning when she spoke to him, he was vaguely surprised when she asked him who he was. "I am Allistair Ferdinand Aurelio. I am eighteen years old, I am mostly Spanish with a bit of Italian in me." Turning it into a joke, he added, "I like long walks on the beach and a girl who wants a sensitive, caring guy." Smirking slightly, he tried to get around her, wanting to just fall onto his bed and go to sleep.
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