Status: Discontinued
You Only Get One Shot Do Not Miss Your Chance to Blow
Thirty
Brendon’s POV
I was in between slumber and consciousness when I heard the door bang. A door slamming in the middle of the night was not unusual. I was hearing footsteps, more like stomping, going around downstairs, but that wasn’t odd other. What was bizarre was that the footsteps were tromping up the stairs, and from the sound of it, it was headed toward my direction. When my brain triggered and confirmed the directions of the steps were headed in my direction, I finally opened my eyes. I grabbed my blankets that were keeping me warm from the below zero temperatures that night, and buried myself into the end of my bed.
I heard my name being slurred, or what sounded like my name, and I granted the tears to pour from my eyes. I didn’t cry loud though, because I needed to stay hidden. I hate when he comes back this late because the same thing always happens every night, but of course, he always seems to scrounge and find another distinct way to torture me.
Light from the bathroom from across the hall flooded the dark hallway and my even darker room. I wished I would have shut my door. Maybe he wouldn’t have had the realization that I was in there. When I heard rummaging from across the hall, my fears were confirmed. I quickly slid from my bed and scampered carefully and quietly across my bedroom floor, to my dresser. My dresser was pushed up against the wall, but what no one knew was that I took out all my clothes and stashed them in my closet so it would make it easier to push my heavy wooden dresser away from the wall, making space for me to hide.
That night though, my arms and legs were still bruised from the night before and my muscles were sore from the grueling runs. I tried pushing the dresser away from the wall, and I succeeded, but noisily.
Shortly after, the light that was flooding my room was darkened, and when I looked over, my father’s shadow loomed in the doorway. The tears that ran down my face turned to ice, as I stood frozen, my body half tucked behind the wood.
Most of the confrontation was a blur, but I do remember the pain. I felt my throat burn from yelling and my arms ached from being gripped so yard. But most of all, my legs. It wasn’t because of my muscles and bruises, it was the sharp blade that was slicing my delicate skin on the back of my knees.
---
I woke up to a loud screaming and urgent yelling, and my eyes darted open. I sat up hastily and looked around for the screaming, but I couldn’t find it. I couple of seconds went by, but then I realized; it was me.
I rubbed my eyes awake and looked around some more. I was still in my room, in my bed, with Dylan, who was now awake and worriedly alert, next to me.
I couldn’t get my breathing under control and my chest was rising too frequently for me to even think straight. I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair and tried slapping my face to get myself under control, but it only admitted to sweat drops fall off my chin.
I dropped back and laid down, thrashing my feel to get the covers off. With my breathing still thick and the room still spinning, I sat up again one last time and reached over to my nightstand and picked up my glass of water that was left from a couple nights ago. I held it directly over my head and poured it over me.
Even if it was room temperature, it helped me regain my sanity. Water droplets fell from my hair and puddle on my lap. Dylan, not liking being awoken by yells in the middle of the night, started prancing around my legs, hoping to get licks of the water that fell off my head. Still panting slightly, I thought I might let out a few sobs, just because I was scared and confused. I had no idea what just happened.
---
I didn’t have any idea where I was headed, but I somehow I ended up in front of Gilly’s. My head was still wet and a few water droplets may have been still lingering on my neck as I made my over to a bench that was outside the grill and bar.
Long walks clear my head, but seeing a familiar silhouette resting on the bench was even more cleansing.
Emily was sitting on the far right of the bench with her elbows on her knees and head in her hands, so she didn’t see me approach. I took a seat on the far left of the bench and positioned my self in the same arrangement, but instead I placed my chin in my hands so I could watch the traffic and the people and the over all bustle of Vegas go by.
I tried not to think about pain and agony. I insisted that I thought about happy, but it was hard to wrap my mind around a thought long enough, being that the noise outside was pretty loud for this early in the morning.
“I always have wondered if you were a mind reader, but now I know.” I jumped to sky when I heard Emily mumble her greeting to me, her face still not looking up. I guess I’m not as crackerjack as I thought.
“I guess that means you can read minds also, if you knew I was here,” I smirked back.
She finally took her head out of her hands and looked at me with a smile, “I could smell you.”
“I hope that’s a good thing,” I simpered back, both of us sliding our butts across the bench so we met in the middle.
With shoulders bumping she replied, “Oh yeah, it’s a very good thing.” I smiled down, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her forehead.
“Hi,” I whispered. She didn’t reply, but she depressed her lips to mine for the greeting. After the quick delicate kiss, she leaded her head on my shoulder. “So what are you doing out here at four in the morning?”
She didn’t even have to think about a response, “The same thing you are.”
“And what’s that?”
“You don’t know.” I moved my head to look at her, confused. “You don’t know why you came on the walk because you didn’t know what was going on in your head. If you knew what was going on in your head, you would have a reason to out. Am I right? Or am I right?”
I chuckled lightly and kissed her forehead again. “I guess you’re right. Damn you’re too good.”
“Yeah, well you’re not alone.”
“Well what’s going on in Little Miss Emmy’s head?”
“I told you. I don’t know.” She smirked up at me, and I returned the gesture.
We sat on the bench in silence for a long time. Silence. Just what I needed and wanted; level heading thinking. Except not much of it was done, because I was distracted.
I kept looking down at Emily’s legs. Her dark blue sweatpants were cut off into capris and I continued to stare at her knees. I thought if I tried staring at her knee caps long enough, somehow X-ray vision would kick in and I would be able to see through them.
I wanted to see the back of her legs. Were they scarred? My soft flesh on the back of my knees hurt just thinking about a knife blade slicing over them. I never noticed how much Emily was scarred. When I first met her I hadn’t detected even one, and when we first stared dating I noticed a couple. I know it’s weird to say, but I do have a favorite one. All of her scars are light and hard to catch except one on her right hand.
It started on the flap of skin in between her index finger and thumb, and curved around the top of the bump on the thumb bone on her palm, sort of like a fish hook. I traced it frequently and I always marveled at how none of her scars were gross looking. They were all light and soft, like trying to blend in with her skin.
The one on her hip and ran up her side was the one that intrigued me the most of all though. I used to wonder all the time about it, but I never asked. I’d asked about other ones and she told be openly, some with hesitation, but she wanted to tell me. I’m sure she would explain the background of that one too, but after I read her journals, I didn’t want her to.
The sun started to rise and we watched together on the little blue bench outside Gilly’s Bar and Grill. It had been only an hour ago that I had woken up with one of Emily’s journal entries transformed into one of my dreams, and now my head was completely clear.
I wasn’t sure I would be able to fall asleep tonight though. Even now, I was still haunted be the images her writing gave me. From the blood to the tears, it sent shivers through my body. I hated thinking of someone hurting Emily. It made my blood steam.
My head started fogging up again, so I tried to distract myself. “‘You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.’ Huh.” I dropped her wrist and started spinning her red wrist band around her wrist. “Where’d you get that?”
“A girl,” she stated simply. “I don’t know, there’s something about this bracelet. It gets me.”
“Ah,” I answered understandingly. She put her warm hand back into mine and stood up, pulling me with her. “Shall we?”
“My place or yours?” I asked wiggling my eyebrows.
“Bren.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” I smiled, kissing her nose, causing her to smile too. “Yes. We shall,” I said leading us to the coffee shop, which was what she really meant. “So, what are you getting?” I asked as we stood at the counter.
“Well you should know, shouldn’t you? I mean, you are the mind reader and all that.”
I chucked again and squeezed her hand, “Ah, of course.” I turned to the girl behind the counter, who by the way was undressing me with her eyes, ew, and ordered for us. “We’ll have… one chocolate chip muffin and one blueberry muffin and also, two hot cups of decaf.”
We got our muffins and sat down at a booth in the shop. “Wow Bren, right on. How did you know I love chocolate chip muffins?”
I blushed and looked down at my cup of coffee. “I don’t know…”
“Oh come one, tell.”
“I’m a mind reader!”
“No, seriously!”
“Well, I don’t know, that’s what you had at the hotel for breakfast the morning after I met you…” I replied bashful.
Emily raised her eyebrows, “I can’t believe you! You’re so…. Retentive! It’s amazing!”
“Uh…”
“Cheers!” she said happily, holding out her muffin. I raised mine in unison and gladly accepted.
I was in between slumber and consciousness when I heard the door bang. A door slamming in the middle of the night was not unusual. I was hearing footsteps, more like stomping, going around downstairs, but that wasn’t odd other. What was bizarre was that the footsteps were tromping up the stairs, and from the sound of it, it was headed toward my direction. When my brain triggered and confirmed the directions of the steps were headed in my direction, I finally opened my eyes. I grabbed my blankets that were keeping me warm from the below zero temperatures that night, and buried myself into the end of my bed.
I heard my name being slurred, or what sounded like my name, and I granted the tears to pour from my eyes. I didn’t cry loud though, because I needed to stay hidden. I hate when he comes back this late because the same thing always happens every night, but of course, he always seems to scrounge and find another distinct way to torture me.
Light from the bathroom from across the hall flooded the dark hallway and my even darker room. I wished I would have shut my door. Maybe he wouldn’t have had the realization that I was in there. When I heard rummaging from across the hall, my fears were confirmed. I quickly slid from my bed and scampered carefully and quietly across my bedroom floor, to my dresser. My dresser was pushed up against the wall, but what no one knew was that I took out all my clothes and stashed them in my closet so it would make it easier to push my heavy wooden dresser away from the wall, making space for me to hide.
That night though, my arms and legs were still bruised from the night before and my muscles were sore from the grueling runs. I tried pushing the dresser away from the wall, and I succeeded, but noisily.
Shortly after, the light that was flooding my room was darkened, and when I looked over, my father’s shadow loomed in the doorway. The tears that ran down my face turned to ice, as I stood frozen, my body half tucked behind the wood.
Most of the confrontation was a blur, but I do remember the pain. I felt my throat burn from yelling and my arms ached from being gripped so yard. But most of all, my legs. It wasn’t because of my muscles and bruises, it was the sharp blade that was slicing my delicate skin on the back of my knees.
---
I woke up to a loud screaming and urgent yelling, and my eyes darted open. I sat up hastily and looked around for the screaming, but I couldn’t find it. I couple of seconds went by, but then I realized; it was me.
I rubbed my eyes awake and looked around some more. I was still in my room, in my bed, with Dylan, who was now awake and worriedly alert, next to me.
I couldn’t get my breathing under control and my chest was rising too frequently for me to even think straight. I ran my fingers through my sweaty hair and tried slapping my face to get myself under control, but it only admitted to sweat drops fall off my chin.
I dropped back and laid down, thrashing my feel to get the covers off. With my breathing still thick and the room still spinning, I sat up again one last time and reached over to my nightstand and picked up my glass of water that was left from a couple nights ago. I held it directly over my head and poured it over me.
Even if it was room temperature, it helped me regain my sanity. Water droplets fell from my hair and puddle on my lap. Dylan, not liking being awoken by yells in the middle of the night, started prancing around my legs, hoping to get licks of the water that fell off my head. Still panting slightly, I thought I might let out a few sobs, just because I was scared and confused. I had no idea what just happened.
---
I didn’t have any idea where I was headed, but I somehow I ended up in front of Gilly’s. My head was still wet and a few water droplets may have been still lingering on my neck as I made my over to a bench that was outside the grill and bar.
Long walks clear my head, but seeing a familiar silhouette resting on the bench was even more cleansing.
Emily was sitting on the far right of the bench with her elbows on her knees and head in her hands, so she didn’t see me approach. I took a seat on the far left of the bench and positioned my self in the same arrangement, but instead I placed my chin in my hands so I could watch the traffic and the people and the over all bustle of Vegas go by.
I tried not to think about pain and agony. I insisted that I thought about happy, but it was hard to wrap my mind around a thought long enough, being that the noise outside was pretty loud for this early in the morning.
“I always have wondered if you were a mind reader, but now I know.” I jumped to sky when I heard Emily mumble her greeting to me, her face still not looking up. I guess I’m not as crackerjack as I thought.
“I guess that means you can read minds also, if you knew I was here,” I smirked back.
She finally took her head out of her hands and looked at me with a smile, “I could smell you.”
“I hope that’s a good thing,” I simpered back, both of us sliding our butts across the bench so we met in the middle.
With shoulders bumping she replied, “Oh yeah, it’s a very good thing.” I smiled down, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her forehead.
“Hi,” I whispered. She didn’t reply, but she depressed her lips to mine for the greeting. After the quick delicate kiss, she leaded her head on my shoulder. “So what are you doing out here at four in the morning?”
She didn’t even have to think about a response, “The same thing you are.”
“And what’s that?”
“You don’t know.” I moved my head to look at her, confused. “You don’t know why you came on the walk because you didn’t know what was going on in your head. If you knew what was going on in your head, you would have a reason to out. Am I right? Or am I right?”
I chuckled lightly and kissed her forehead again. “I guess you’re right. Damn you’re too good.”
“Yeah, well you’re not alone.”
“Well what’s going on in Little Miss Emmy’s head?”
“I told you. I don’t know.” She smirked up at me, and I returned the gesture.
We sat on the bench in silence for a long time. Silence. Just what I needed and wanted; level heading thinking. Except not much of it was done, because I was distracted.
I kept looking down at Emily’s legs. Her dark blue sweatpants were cut off into capris and I continued to stare at her knees. I thought if I tried staring at her knee caps long enough, somehow X-ray vision would kick in and I would be able to see through them.
I wanted to see the back of her legs. Were they scarred? My soft flesh on the back of my knees hurt just thinking about a knife blade slicing over them. I never noticed how much Emily was scarred. When I first met her I hadn’t detected even one, and when we first stared dating I noticed a couple. I know it’s weird to say, but I do have a favorite one. All of her scars are light and hard to catch except one on her right hand.
It started on the flap of skin in between her index finger and thumb, and curved around the top of the bump on the thumb bone on her palm, sort of like a fish hook. I traced it frequently and I always marveled at how none of her scars were gross looking. They were all light and soft, like trying to blend in with her skin.
The one on her hip and ran up her side was the one that intrigued me the most of all though. I used to wonder all the time about it, but I never asked. I’d asked about other ones and she told be openly, some with hesitation, but she wanted to tell me. I’m sure she would explain the background of that one too, but after I read her journals, I didn’t want her to.
The sun started to rise and we watched together on the little blue bench outside Gilly’s Bar and Grill. It had been only an hour ago that I had woken up with one of Emily’s journal entries transformed into one of my dreams, and now my head was completely clear.
I wasn’t sure I would be able to fall asleep tonight though. Even now, I was still haunted be the images her writing gave me. From the blood to the tears, it sent shivers through my body. I hated thinking of someone hurting Emily. It made my blood steam.
My head started fogging up again, so I tried to distract myself. “‘You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.’ Huh.” I dropped her wrist and started spinning her red wrist band around her wrist. “Where’d you get that?”
“A girl,” she stated simply. “I don’t know, there’s something about this bracelet. It gets me.”
“Ah,” I answered understandingly. She put her warm hand back into mine and stood up, pulling me with her. “Shall we?”
“My place or yours?” I asked wiggling my eyebrows.
“Bren.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” I smiled, kissing her nose, causing her to smile too. “Yes. We shall,” I said leading us to the coffee shop, which was what she really meant. “So, what are you getting?” I asked as we stood at the counter.
“Well you should know, shouldn’t you? I mean, you are the mind reader and all that.”
I chucked again and squeezed her hand, “Ah, of course.” I turned to the girl behind the counter, who by the way was undressing me with her eyes, ew, and ordered for us. “We’ll have… one chocolate chip muffin and one blueberry muffin and also, two hot cups of decaf.”
We got our muffins and sat down at a booth in the shop. “Wow Bren, right on. How did you know I love chocolate chip muffins?”
I blushed and looked down at my cup of coffee. “I don’t know…”
“Oh come one, tell.”
“I’m a mind reader!”
“No, seriously!”
“Well, I don’t know, that’s what you had at the hotel for breakfast the morning after I met you…” I replied bashful.
Emily raised her eyebrows, “I can’t believe you! You’re so…. Retentive! It’s amazing!”
“Uh…”
“Cheers!” she said happily, holding out her muffin. I raised mine in unison and gladly accepted.