Heartaches Knocking on Her Door

Quinton hung his head, letting out a deep sigh before rubbing his hands over his face. The silence making Livs breathing erratic as she fought back tears, watching him digest what she had told him from the edge of the bed.

He looked up with tired and defeated eyes. "Something’s been different about you Liv, and I couldn't really figure it out before, but I think I have an idea now. I'm only going to ask you this once, do you love him?"

She turned away from him, shaking her head, teeth biting down on her bottom lip. "I, I don't know." Her stomach twisted with anxiety as she turned back to see his reaction.

His face was blank, emotionless. "Liv, what kind of an answer is that? Either you do or you don't."

Her vision blurred with tears and she took a seat across the room. "It's complicated. He was my first love. I admit, we shouldn't have stayed in contact but I don't think love is there. That kiss was just, it was left over…" She struggled trying to find the words. "It was left over... I didn't think about it, my body just did it." She was rambling.

He looked into her eyes from across the room with pleading, face still full of composure. "Do you love me."

She blurted out the words before she could censor herself. "I don't know." She clasped her hand over her mouth. Why did I say that? Is that how I really feel?

He stood up silently and walked over to the closet, pulling out his small suitcase, and began tossing clothes in to it.

Liv stood, "What are you doing?"

He didn't turn as he answered her, haphazardly stuffing more of his clothes in to the black suitcase. "I'm moving out Liv.”

She shook her head, unable to really grasp what he was saying. "No, no…" She crossed the room, wanting to wrap her arms around him from behind, but hesitating.

"Liv it's not just the kiss. You haven’t seen yourself. You’re still in love with him and I, I’m just the new boyfriend in the way of that.” He roughly zipped up the suitcase and turned around to face her, expression stony.

He’s wrong. That isn’t true. “No you aren’t.” Her voice faded with defeat. His mind was made up, and there was nothing she could say or do to change that, or at least, she’d lost the will to fight him.

She watched as he silently rolled the suitcase, throwing his travel bag over his shoulder, and walked out the front door.

I should have said more.

But he, he was so cold. Why didn’t he yell or scream, why didn’t he plead with me to make up my mind, or fight for me.

She pulled out a chair at the small kitchen table and sat down in stunned silence by how quickly things had escalated, and how emotionless Quinton seemed to be.

What did he see in me? How have I acted in any way, shape, or form to make him think that I still have feelings for Ville?

******

[November 3rd, 2017, Dallas, Texas]

He smiled to himself as he stepped into the shop, the smell of used records perfuming around him as the entrance bell rang. It was a small two story establishment, with rows and rows of new or used records neatly categorized. Posters and other music memorabilia hung from the walls. The shop was all but empty but for a young couple and older gentleman meandering through the aisles.

After the show, unable to stand the cramped tour bus, and not feeling like a dose of caffeine, Ville had searched up local record shops and quickly made his way by foot to the one open the latest. He only had half an hour before it closed at 12AM. Laying in bed in the moments between the comfort of a bed and sleep, or sitting in a quiet corner with a coffee, those moments when his mind should have been at ease were in fact the opposite. It was something about the calm that plunged his mind in to reminiscence, and he could not for the life of him rid himself of the feeling of her soft lips, of the taste of her sweet breath, of the sound of her laboured breathing, of the smell of her fragrant perfume mingled with the bitterness of cigarette smoke, but pervasive of all was the horror he had seen in her eyes as she’d realized what she had done.

He shook himself of the thoughts and walked up to the nearest section and began flipping through records, happy to have a distraction, enjoying the sensation of the worn plastic slips between his fingers and the 70’s punk music playing in the background.

He sighed, pausing his flipping as he approached the ‘D’ section, and pulled out his cellphone from his back pocket. He flipped past a few texts and opened up his email, scrolling until he came to Liv’s email, the one he hadn’t responded to yet.

He’d loved their correspondence, hearing updates on her career, telling her about life in Hells, and learning her opinions as they critiqued their weekly reads. He’d eased in to a comfortable fallacy so much so that when she’d kissed him he realized that the feelings he’d imagined as friendship borne from the final closure of their love, had really been a resurrection of feelings he’d thought had passed away long ago. That realization had scared him, and for once, he’d thought about things with some rationality. Instead of jumping in to the same declarations of love he had made to her three years ago in his tower, he’d thought about what reconciliation would even mean, if it were in fact possible given she was with Quinton. After much reflection laying awake in his bunk his thoughts always ended at the same place, that he needed to let her go. He’d been wrong to tell her the kiss didn’t have to change things, because it did, the moment it happened, and he’d been carrying on emailing her knowing he had to stop, knowing he had to cut communication lest he fall for her even more than he already was.

The pit of his stomach hurt as he put the phone away, unable to even think of the email he needed to send, let alone begin to write the words. He moved along to the other side of the aisle, reading out the artist names in his head. He only made it to 'J' when he was approached by the young woman who'd been standing at the front counter earlier.

"Hi there, sorry to bother you but I've got to close up soon, can I ring up what you've got there?" She pointed at a small bundle of records tucked under his arm.

He smiled, a little embarrassed, "Of course, I'm sorry for keeping you." He handed the stack to the woman and followed as she led him to the front counter. He perused the small knick knacks at the desk, trying to figure out how he'd safely transport the records back home when he spotted a November edition of Metal Hammer tucked away among other music related magazines. "Do you keep older editions by any chance?" He asked out of some inner impulse.

She finished scanning the last of his records, "We do yeah. I can quickly run to the back and see if we've got what you're looking for. What year and month?"

"April of this year please." He'd already read the particular issue, quite thoroughly, but he wanted to read it again. Masochist, he said to himself as the woman ducked in to the back of the shop out of sight.

He pulled out his phone again, swiping the screen and seeing the email light up. They hadn't picked up emailing right away after seeing each other in Anaheim, and only awkward small talk since then. The email Ville hadn't responded to was one where Liv suggested they read "Persuasion" next, one of her favorites.

The employee returned and he quickly stuffed his phone back in to his pocket. The magazine was scanned, put in a bag with the records, the bundle paid for, and the door locked behind him as Ville stepped out on to the quiet midnight.

Walking until he was under the nearest streetlight he lit himself a cigarette and pulled out the magazine. He looked into his own eyes, the cover headline read "Farewell to Love Metal: A Tribute to H.I.M.", he stood snarling at the camera, Mige and Kosmo grimacing from behind each of his shoulders, Linde to the left of him glaring, and Burton to the right, his face a mask behind sunglasses. A small smirk played on his lips as he let out swirls of smoke that danced in the spotlight, Liv had been unhappy with their expressions so she'd asked them to imagine they were wolves. At the time they thought it was silly, but the final result was great.

He flipped through the magazine until he came to the eight page spread on the band. Larger staged shots were interspersed with more candid ones of them laughing, playing chess, reading, and drinking. Next to these was her article.

"I'm sitting in a small cabin in the middle of Lapland with the world's five most famous Finns. Why are they famous you ask? Is it because they coined the term Love Metal? Is it because their relationship with Bam Margera of Jackass fame? Is it because the heartagram is a world recognized symbol? Or is it because their music, a unique mix of Depeche Mode-like beats, horror inspired chords, heartbreaking ballads, and Poe-etic lyrics has become the melody of not just a generation but of new fans discovering the unique discography every day? With a history lasting almost thirty years, and eight records under their belt, 2017 will mark the final year of the bands extraordinary career."

He had never read her writing before seeing the article, he hadn't even known her capabilities, but her ability to tell the conclusion to the bands long story, framed by the few days she'd spent reconnecting with them had touched his heart. He'd gotten a copy of the article framed and hung up in the studio in his new home.

Ville continued flipping until he came to what he'd been looking for. He took a drag and held the page closer, folding back the other half of the magazine.

The final page was a small spread on Liv herself. Front and centre was a candid shot taken by Sirii as she'd prepped the guys out in the snow, her back was to the camera as she adjusted Ville's hair. He remembered the moment, the guys goofing around beside him, the freezing cold, the sense of relief still lingering in his heart after his talk with Liv the night before, the stern words she snapped at them as she played with the curls sticking out of his beanie. He remembered looking in to her big eyes, still amazed at the change he had seen there. The photograph depicted that moment so perfectly, every aspect, especially the look of pure adoration he had unknowingly given her.

He let out a jagged breath and pulled his eyes away to a smaller photo of her, she flashed an embarrassed smile as Sirii caught her in the midst of changing the lens on her camera, ridiculously puffy coat eating her up, her cheeks a bright red from the cold, long hair in a messy bun. Below the photo was a blurb she'd written about herself and her relationship with the band. She'd asked his permission regarding a certain section before sending in her drafts and he'd obliged.

"A lot of people have speculated about how my career began, and with my connection to Ville Valo. The simple truth is that he believed in my photography, the whole band did, but what grew from a working relationship was a first love. Maybe I was a little young and naive, but what we had, although brief, was very much real and burned with the heat of six hundred and sixty six suns. I am honoured to attribute my career and foray in to love to an incredibly talented, passionate, and caring man who I can now count as a dear friend."

He wished he'd had the courage to say it, both in the past and present. He wished he hadn't been ashamed then, and that he would have admitted it now. I'd scream it from the damn rooftops, I'd stand outside her window with a boombox like some love sick idiot. I wish I'd told the world I'd loved her. His hands gripped the magazine tighter, I was such a fool then.

Friends.

That's what we are now, she said it, I said it, it's right there on the page. But it's not possible, not now, maybe in time, but I need space. Maintaining this friendship would only mean feeding the hungry monster within me morsels of the actual whole it desires but can never have. That kiss awoke something in me that I need to lay to rest, again.

From: villevalomuusikko@hotmail.fi
To: livmanningphotography@gmail.com
Subject: I hope this email finds you well

Dearest Liv,

Firstly, my apologies for the formality of this email, you cannot write something of this nature with short sentences and text language.

Secondly, I would love to read Persuasion with you and to learn why the work has a special place in your heart,

But, thirdly, I do not think this is a good idea. Although I'm so happy we were able to frankly reflect on the past back in March, and that we've come to have a friendship of sorts, it seems that I am not ready for this. I hope you can understand that some wounds require a little more time to heal, and I suppose I was a little hasty in so readily offering my friendship. I need some time and space to reflect, on what, I'm not entirely sure. I would hope you of all people would understand why I need to do this however.

Forget me for the moment, focus on work, family, and Quinton.

Warmest regards little red,

Ville Valo

******

[November 19th, 2017]

She quietly crept out of the girls’ room and turned off their lights, pausing in the doorway to spare a glance at the sleeping children. She gently closed the door, keeping it open a crack and returned to the kitchen. She found Marcus still wearing the stained apron from when he made lunch for the girls, now whipping up a salad for himself and Liv.

“They have been read to, they have been tucked in, and they are now fast asleep.” Liv smiled, sitting down at a counter stool. Marcus passed her a bowl and fork. “Now I don’t want to call myself the greatest aunt ever, but, I’m the greatest aunt ever.”

Marcus rolled his eyes as he tossed the salad, “You haven’t even dealt with half the stress involved, no, a quarter! But yes, you are a wonderful aunt.” He filled Livs bowl and then his own, leaning against the counter across from her, holding the food in his hand. “So what brings you by?” He asked, spearing a cherry tomato.

Liv fixed her gaze upon the greens in front of her, moving the salad around absentmindedly with her fork. “Weeeell, to put it shortly, I need some friend time and some advice.” Marcus kept his mouth shut, wanting her to go on. She looked up, letting out a sigh. She'd learned to become so much more open with people, but it was still difficult nonetheless. Before she could begin to speak her eyes began to fill with tears. "So I know I should have told you earlier but uh Quinton left me last month."

Marcus put his food down. "Last month? And you're telling me this now?" He shook his head, "I'm sorry that's not important." He leaned across the counter. "What happened?"

She looked up, trying not to blink, trying to keep the tears from slipping out, and trying to contain the emotions she'd been bottling since he'd left. "I kissed Ville and I was trying to do the right thing and I told Quinton but he asked me if I loved Ville and if I loved him." She grabbed a tissue from the box that Marcus scooted towards her on the counter.

"What did you say? Wait no, back up. Tell me about this kiss." His eyes grew wide with curiosity.

She began to calm down, the relief of telling someone her woes easing her heart. "It was after that show in Anaheim. I don't know why I did it. And Quinton seems to think I still love Ville."

Marcus crossed his arms, "Well do you?"

She'd been asking herself the same question ever since Quinton had left. "I honestly don't know. What I do know though is that Ville told me he needs space, that he's not ready for a friendship yet." His email had stung, not because she had blamed her kiss, not because she knew those words were coming, but because he had been right. She knew, she knew exactly what he was feeling, and he was right to put distance between them. At Least he'd had the decency to speak openly to her about it, instead of taking the cowards way out as she had done, sneaking out of his tower that morning long ago.

"Do you think he has feelings for you?" Marcus asked as he watched the emotions play across Livs face.

"I'm not sure, I can't be sure, maybe what I saw there is just leftover feelings, but I think if anything that doesn't matter. He doesn't want feelings if he's got em, he wants space." She let out a heavy sigh, "Marcus I, I don't know what I want anymore."

He leaned forward across the counter, clasping her hands in his own. "Liv, Ville was your first love, it's okay to be confused, and it's okay to still have feelings for him."

She shook her head, "It's not that easy to feel that Marcus, not after I've already mourned what we had, not after I've put it all behind me." She looked away, biting her bottom lip. "But, I, I can't explain it, back when I ran from him in Hells I, I knew in the pit of my stomach I couldn't do it again, but I just don't feel that now. It's not the same this time." She ran a hand through her hair, trying to put into words all the jumbled thoughts she'd been having. "It's like, it's like it hurts that we've taken a step back, that he thinks it's not a good idea, but I've done the same, I've felt the same. I just don't know what I want, but who cares what I want if we're not in the same place, if I'm even in that place…" She bawled her hands up into fists with resolution, “Even if I did feel something, it doesn’t matter, we had our chance and it’s done, it’s finished.”

Marcus let go of her hands. "There is nothing I can say that will magically help you figure out what you want, but I think you’re fair to be hesitant, to be cautious of your feelings. Whatever you feel you don’t have to follow, you can overcome, like you’ve done before. Just give him and yourself time."

Marcus always had a way of organizing the chaos in her mind, focusing her thoughts, and making her feel like whatever she was feeling was valid. Liv loved him for it.

She nodded silently and got up, going around the counter and giving Marcus a hug. "I'm going to give myself some time to think. The time off I'm taking to visit my grandpa and dad for the holidays will do me good, I'll have more head space." She let go of him, wiping the last remnants of her tears, "Work has just got my brain so overloaded with times, lenses, figures, contacts blah blah." She shot him a half smile as she sat back down.

She watched as Marcus picked up his food once again, a thought clearly rolling around in his mind. "Liv, did you love Quinton?"

At least that, she'd realized the answer to.

She shook her head. "No."

******

[December 23, 2017, Brooklyn]

"Now Liv, I love you honey, but I can't tell if this alfredo is terrible because you cooked it, or because it's vegan." Livs dad dropped his fork back on to the plate, giving her an apologetic smile as her grandpa began snickering from across the table.

Liv stood, narrowing her eyes at him, "You all should be happy I even attempted to cook for you!" She reached for his half eaten plate but he quickly pulled it back and stuffed the rest of the alfredo in his mouth, smiling back at her with his full mouth.

She slumped back in to her seat, crossing her arms.

"Don't listen to him dear," her grandpa smiled, clearly squishing the noodles to one side of the plate to make it look as if he'd eaten more than he really had, "it was a uh unique dish. We appreciate the healthy cooking."

"Does this mean you guys aren't going to let me attempt Christmas dinner?" She took a bite from her own plate. Tastes fine to me.

They both burst out laughing, her father speaking up between chuckles, "No honey, we're not. You can make the cranberry sauce though!"

Her grandfather nodded with amused approval.

She glared from one to the other jokingly, "but we already bought the cans?"

Her father grabbed his plate and got up to put it away, "Exactly, just need to open those bad boys up and tada, you made cranberry sauce!"

"Right" Liv murmured under her breath.

Her grandfather got up quickly and scurried away with his barely eaten plate.

Liv's father reappeared in the dining room doorway, "Did you want to take those pictures of my Harley for me today?"

She took her last bite and got up, "Sure, it's just in the garage right?"

He nodded. She quickly washed her plate, grabbed the camera in her room and found her father in the packed garage, the garage door open and the last shimmers of a winter sun shining upon a very imposing black motorcycle.

"So this is betsy eh?" She asked, slipping the cap off the camera and dropping it in her back pocket, walking a circle around the impressive piece of machinery.

He nodded, a proud smile on his lips as he began to wheel the bike out to the driveway. "Funny enough, the best part about owning this beauty is that Joan said she'd come on rides with me."

Her father had met Joan a few months ago when he'd had to go to the hospital with her grandpa for some irregular heart palpitations he was having. She was the nurse helping him. She was a kind woman of 45 with voluminous honey hair and a curvy frame. Liv had only met her once, but she could tell that this one was going to last.

Once her dad had posed the bike the way he'd wanted Liv began searching for the right angle, doing a few tester shots before crouching down and taking more photos.

Suddenly familiar musical notes began playing from her back pocket. Liv set the camera down on the motorcycles cushy leather seat and checked the caller ID. It was Bam. She beamed at the phone, knowing exactly why he must be calling.

"So?" She answered with giddiness.

"IT'S A HEALTHY BOY. WE'VE GOT A BOY. I'VE GOT A SON!" He sounded both euphoric and exhausted.

Liv chuckled, "What's his name? How is Nikki holding up?"

"Phoenix Wolf! Man Liv, he's got the biggest eyes! And Nikki! I can't believe she did that! She's resting now with the babe but dammit Liv, that was one of the craziest experiences of my life."

She paced around the driveway, cheeks hurting from her smile. "Bam I am so happy to hear that. I'm so happy for you and Nikki, and I can't wait to meet little Phoenix Wolf."

"You're in the area right? Why don't you stop by after Christmas? The place is a mess but we'd love to have you down!"

She'd thought about visiting when she'd made the plans to see her family, but knowing Bams baby was due around the same time, she hadn't wanted to impose. "Bam that would be wonderful. How does the 27th sound? I need to be flying back to LA on the 28th." What presents should I get the baby, she thought with delight.

"Perfect! I've got to go but I'll see you then!"

Liv turned to her dad, putting the phone back into her pocket, "My friend just had a baby." She picked up the camera again with a happy sigh.

"Oh that's wonderful. I heard you say Bam, is it that scruffy looking man who visited you after the hospital, the Jackass?" He began wheeling the bike back to the garage.

"It is yeah, he had a boy. Do you think you and pops would mind if I borrowed the car after Christmas to visit him in West Chester?"

"Are you off probation from your accident?" He asked, the voice of a father.

She nodded tucking the camera back in its bag, memory card in one hand, "Yeah, a while ago. I'll have the car back by the end of the day, and I will not touch a drop of alcohol, I won't even put on hand sanitizer." She crossed her heart, trying to lighten the mood. He was fair in asking, among the physical and emotional recovery from the accident she'd faced a severe fine and an impaired driving program she had to complete before her license would be restored.

"Should be fine then," he rubbed out a spot on the tank with the bottom of his T shirt. "Hey are you going to show me how to put these pictures up on my Facebook too?"

******

[December 27th, 2017]

She lowered the camera, smiling proudly to herself, “I think I’ve got quite enough now.” Liv let out a soft chuckle as she began capping the camera.

Before her stood Bam, Nikki, and their infant son, posing in Bams living room in front of his enormous chrome heartagram. Bam dressed in a black T-shirt and tattered jeans, Nikki in a long-sleeved purple, body hugging dress, and their little boy in a Jackass T shirt.

Nikki sighed with relief, “Thank god, my tits feel like they’re going to burst, I have to either try feeding him or pump. I’ll be right back.” She scurried off. During the short shoot Liv could tell she’d gotten uncomfortable near the end.

Bam plopped down in a nearby chair, contentment in his eyes, “Thanks for doing this. I know you work yourself to death with that thing,” he pointed a ringed finger at the camera in her hands, “but we had to ask the best.”

Liv sat down opposite him, a smile on her lips. She’d enjoyed watching him all day as she shot candids of his little family as they all hung out. It was like he was a changed man, and although he’d been having recent struggles with sobriety, he was being such an attentive and doting father. His smiles were touching his eyes. He genuinely seemed happy. “Oh it’s nothing, plus you guys made me breakfast this morning. And, I also was wondering if I could use a few of these shots, if it was alright with you?” She’d been all too happy to oblige Bam’s request, but admittedly she’d had another motive for agreeing so readily to be the family's personal photographer for the day.

He raised a brow, “What for?”

She’d been wanting to do another passion project for some time and exhibit her work again, but wanted to do something less abstract, more real. “I’ve got this idea for my next project. I want it to be a celebration of family, my family, the family I was given, and the family I’ve made. I’ve come to really appreciate the people in my life, I mean, I did before obviously, but nowadays I’ve really been thinking about the people that have helped me get to where I am today, and I want to thank them.” She looked down at the camera in her hands, then back up at Bam, “I count you among those people Bam, you helped with my career, but you also really helped ground me after my accident, even when you were dealing with your own shit, I’ll never forget that.”

He blushed, “Weeeeell shit, that means a lot.” He fiddled with the rings on his fingers. “Who else do you plan on photographing?”

She slipped the camera in to its bag. “My family of course, I’ve already got shots of my dad working on his Harley and my grandpa tending to his tomato garden. My friend Marcus, I imagine a shot of him in his home office but decked out in all his metal loving glory. John McMurtrie, in the middle of a photoshoot. Kat, maybe at a makeup launch. My work partner Sirii, by some Finnish monument. And uh, I’d love to actually get a shot too of Ville and the guys at Helldone this New Years. It seems oddly fitting, it being their last show ever, and Ville basically kick starting this whole crazy path my life took..”

Bam gave her a skeptical voice, picking up on her hesitation at the end, “Buuut?”

She sighed, “Buuut Helldone is a few days away and I’m not sure if I can make it” That and the man I may or may not love, who will very much be there, currently does not want to have anything to do with me.

She could tell by his expression that he knew she was holding back all the details, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything as Nikki came back, the baby fast asleep in her arms.

Liv stood, slinging the camera back over her shoulder, "I should head on back to my grandpas before it starts getting dark." She gave Nikki a hug and gently ran her hand over the soft hairs of the sleeping infants head before turning to Bam who still had a look of wanting to press her further.

"Bam I don't need you to tell me I'm a coward anymore, I'm well aware," she gave a small chuckle and opened her arms, "Now give me a hug so I can leave you guys to rest, and so I don't get lost making my way back."

He rolled his eyes with a smirk and gave her a warm hug. They walked her to the car parked out front of the large property. The air was crisp, below freezing.

"Have a good New Years!" Liv waved before the pair disappeared into the large home. She cranked the heat, putting in her grandfather's address into a GPS as she waited for the windows to clear up from the sudden change in temperature. Funny, she thought as she inspected the route laid out on the GPS, it's not the same way back as coming here. She shrugged and pulled out of the driveway, putting on an old Pearl Jam album she found in the glovebox.

She let her mind drift as she drove, singing along to the album here and there, watching the suburban neighborhoods and woodlands pass her by, giving way to more urban areas, and then again to more secluded stretches of road.

She thought about her photography project along the way, the stylistic elements she’d like to incorporate, how she’d get everyone to pose naturally. She thought about Helldone, remembering Tavastia from when she shot the guys there, hoping the crowds would have the energy to make the final night go out with a bang. She thought about Ville, inevitably, imagining him chain smoking outside and then strutting out on stage, performing with his usual quirks like smiling to the guys behind him and holding the mic way too close to his mouth. Since his email he’d been on her mind a lot, as if the lid had been taken off and there was no longer a way to contain the thought of him.

It doesn’t matter, we’d just fall in to the same old toxicity. He’s right to want distance, he’s right to be scared. I am too.

She focused back on the road, knowing she’d soon back on more populated streets. Around her the road was fairly quiet, the trees on the forested stretch swaying in the icy winter winds.

Suddenly she spotted a street sign up ahead on the other side of the road, where the shoulder sloped down into an embankment. She almost slammed her foot on the break as the spark of recognition reverberated within her, her heart the epicentre.

She checked behind her to see if cars were coming and quickly pulled over on to the side of the road, jumping out of the car in stunned silence, as she stared at the street sign. Clutching her coat closer around her she darted across the street. The air was freezing, as they day began to transition into twilight, the dying rays of the sun illuminating her path as she walked a few feet along the grass and decaying leaves of the shoulder until she found what she was looking for.
On the edge of the road, about fifteen metres away down the embankment was a snapped tree, broken at the trunk from an impact. It was already covered with dead leaves and thriving moss, marking the passage of time. She let out a deep, shaky breath that turned to fog as it escaped her lips. It was the tree that had stopped her car from rolling further. The one that had saved her life.

She took a step forward, and then another, gripping onto the saplings around her she carefully made her way down the slope of the embankment, slipping a couple of times upon the wet leaves before stopping at the tree, it's broken trunk pointing down the slope, the stump still sticking tall with seedlings sprouting from it's rotting hull; new life borne of the remnants of tragedy.

She reached out a shaking hand towards the jagged edges of the stump where the snap had occurred, fingertip drawn to the sharp point like a Grimme princess.

Flashes of the accident began to assault her mind, the car spinning out as she veered to avoid the animal, the descent down the embankment, the weightlessness as the car rolled, and then the jarring jolt as it stopped, glass shattering around her, metal creaking and groaning as it was bent beneath the weight of itself.

She began to feel lightheaded, and so gripping on to the trunk she sat down on the damp earth, trying to compose herself as the memories continued.

The warm sensation of blood streaming down her face, as the night grew quiet but for the sound of hard rain falling upon the wreckage. She'd lost consciousness then only to wake up briefly, the night still dark around her aching body, she'd tried to open her mouth to scream but no sound would come out. She'd thought she'd known loneliness before, but it wasn't until that moment that she truly knew. She'd wanted to die, and to die with happy thoughts, and so amidst the distorted metal, sharp glass, pelting rain, agonized body, she'd recalled the comfort, security, warmth, and happiness she had felt the last time she had been in Villes arms. And then the world was black again, a fleeting consciousness only coming back to her as men in uniforms yelled while a bright flashlight was pointed at her face.

She pulled back the fabric of her shirt to look down at the faded white scar on her abdomen as if wanting to see the evidence of the accident, as if checking that the vivid memories were in fact real.

Would I have done it again, she asked herself, recalling the question she had posed to Ville beneath the Finnish night. Knowing what I know, the insecurities, the jealousy, the drinking, the sleeplessness, the heartache, the embarrassment, the shame, the loss. Would I have done it again?

Yes, yes I would, because the past was a path, without it all, without the lows, I wouldn't be able to do it now. I needed it. I needed all that pain, the pain from my moms death, from my fathers addition, from my own insecurities, and from him, I needed it to be who I am, and who I am is someone who works hard, who I am is someone who's overcome loss, who I am is someone who loves themselves.

Who I am is someone ready to try again.

I can do it now. I can do it because time is linear, it pushes you forward, and trying again does not mean repeating the past. It couldn't, it wouldn't be possible. Those people don't exist anymore.

I don't know if he's ready, I hope he is, I really do, because if he could have the courage then to tell me he loved me, after everything that happened, then I can have the courage now.

"It's our time.." She whispered to herself before standing up and beginning scramble up the slope towards the car with urgency.

I loved him then, and I love him now.

******

She flew in to the house in a panic, slamming the door shut behind her and racing past the living room towards her bedroom.

Her father and grandpa looked at each other with confused worry before her father followed her. "What the hell is going on Liv? Are you alright? Did something happen?"

She was on her knees throwing clothes in her backpack. She turned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Dad I, I know this sounds a little crazy, and I swear I'm alright, but I need to go to the airport, I've got to tell someone I love them." She shook her head a little, out of breath, knowing how silly she may look, but her mind was made up.

He leaned against the doorway and looked down at his worn leather watch, "uh honey, it's eight O clock, the airport is probably an hours drive, it's the dead of winter, are you sure you want to do this now?"

She stopped packing and turned to him, "Dad I, I've never been more sure of anything in my life, and for once, for once, I'm running towards something and not from it."