The Hand of Destiny

He’s here. I gotta hand it to fate, out of all the people I expected to be here I did not expect him.

You’re probably wondering what i'm going on about right now. Let me enlighten you.

Firstly, I’m Ashley Purdy. I was currently standing in the living room of some-guy-whose-name-I-can’t-remember’s apartment and I was staring at the guy I’d had a crush on for the last two months.

Zane Johnson. Brown wavy hair with chocolate eyes to match, tan skin decorated with various tattoos and a body to die for.

The thing was, I was pretty sure he doesn’t know I exist. Yeah, clichéd I know, but 100% true.
I’m also pretty sure it was the encouragement from good ‘ol Jack Daniels that gave me the courage to walk over to him right then. (Great, I’m personifying drinks now. Fantastic.) As I passed the low oak coffee table that’s been pushed to the side of the room I saw a boy, probably about my age with similar hair and wow. He had a drink held close to his body, clutched in pale fingers. Long raven hair, straightened and teased, fell down both sides of his face, like the frame of a beautiful picture. He tilted his head up, looking around the room like he could tell I was staring. He looked at up at me and met my gaze, beautiful blue eyes shining in the red and yellow party lights. I would have looked for longer, had I not now have been standing about a metre away from Zane. My mind slipped back to the task in hand. I tapped his arm gently, smiling as his brown eyes settled on me.

“Hey, Ashley right?”

He knew my name; I was so excited about such a small detail.

“Yeah” I replied, trying to think of the best way to say what I wanted to.

Hell, what am I thinking? This isn’t something you can express with words! No, it’s something I’ll have to show him. Let’s do this.

“What’s up?” he said, placing his nearly empty beer bottle on the counter behind him.

“Um, there’s something you need to know but words aren’t going to cut it, so here goes”

I leaned forward and placed my lips on his. I moved slowly and gently, only slightly annoyed about the lack of fireworks in my head. It took me a second to realise he wasn’t doing anything; he was just standing there, still and un-responding. Then I felt a pair of hands connect with my chest and saw him glare at me, disgust in his eyes.

“Ashley, what the fuck, I mean what the actual fuck? The hell is wrong with you? You can’t just kiss guys Ashley that’s.. Ugh!”

Silence had fallen around us; until I heard the whispers start.

“Oh my god Ashley’s gay!”
“No way did he just do that!”
“Always knew he was a faggot”

No. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen! This is a nightmare, it has to be.

“Zane-” I started, only to be cut off.

“Get lost Ashley, leave me alone. Go back to your loser friends if you have any.” he spat, venom lacing his every word.

I could feel my heart shatter, my cheeks brighten and tears build in my eyes. I did the only thing I could think of, I ran.

As I moved I saw that boy again - the one with the beautiful eyes. Though he wasn't standing by a group of other people now; he was stood in the corner with his head bowed - his dark hair cascading in front of his face.

I didn't stop to stare this time. I just ran to the bathroom in the hallway, stepped inside and slammed the door behind me. As I slid the lock across I sank to the floor, leaning against the door.

Tears started to fall down my face at a rapid rate - creating little streams of eyeliner down my cheeks. My breathing was uneven and heavy, panicky and desperate.

Then I saw it. A razor blade. I thought back to those years ago, when I did it often. When it was the only release to my pain. I thought of all the ugly scars littering my arm; I hadn’t done it in months but it was so tempting...

After all, I was sitting there on a bathroom floor, a heartbroken wreck with make up all down my face.

One more mark won’t matter.

Then someone knocked on the door; the tapping echoed around within the confined space of the bathroom.

Probably just someone drunk off their ass needing to puke. I'd thought bitterly and ignored it. They were persistant though and knocked a second, then a third time, more urgent with each turn.

“Hey, are you okay? Open up!” a deep voice sounded through the door, their tone rich and velvety.

I didn’t want to see anyone, but they didn't seem like they were going to give up knocking any time soon.

I relented and slid the lock back, my hand still on the blue handle of the razor.

The chipped door opened and it was him, the boy with the raven hair and blue eyes.

Alright, I know I said I didn’t want to see anyone but maybe I can make an exception. After all, I have a feeling he’s not just anyone.