Misery is my name, Emily Walton [classic romance novels txt] 📗

had been that bad, but now, seeing it almost a year later, it was amazing. I barely heard my whispered answer, but saw my lips move.

" because, I can't Andy. You know I can't love anyone, especially you. please, put the gun down. I'll leave if you want. Just don't do this to your family." I watched as well as remembered his sneer as I stood up.

" no, because we wouldn't want to hurt poor Leon, would we? the brother who gets EVERYTHING, right? Even YOU." I reached out, and the gun swung, as a gunshot rang out, he fell, and I screamed on the screen all at the same time.

I leached foreword, and turned it off before they saw what happened next- me trying to take my life as well.

After all the yelling from the TV, the quiet was eerie. Finally, when I knew I wasn't going to cry, I turned to them, slowly, knowing there terrified looks weren’t' just from the show they just saw, but from my flashing eyes.

" Why?" I whispered, deadly silent. I might as well have screamed, it would've had the same affect.

" I-I wanted to know who this Andy Guy was. I remember seeing a video with his name on it when I carried your stuff in, so we went and got it. We found this one. God, Izzy..." Chess trailed off. He made a move to reach for me, and I shrank away from him, skirting around the edge of the room, pausing at the stairs.

" Don't do it again, I mean it." I said, before running to my room, despite the yelled protests.

I pray to god they didn't see the date in the bottom of the screen- a year ago from today.

I sank to the floor in my bathroom, that door and my bedroom door locked, just in case. I felt my hands shaking, and I silently broke down into sobs, and not the snotty ones- the heart wrenching ones, the ones only the people who've seen something so horrible, so terrifying, so HURTFULL, at least to them, could cry.

Almost without realizing it, I reached in my drawer for my blade.

chapter seven

I was sitting cross-legged on my floor, working on a collage I'd started for Jenny, when I heard the knock on my door.

" Come in." I said, not looking up.

" I'm going to go pick something up for us to eat, what would you like?" Jonathan said softly from the doorway, not entering my bedroom. I glanced at him.

" a Hamburger and french-fries would be fine, Jonathan, thank You." he nodded, closing my door. I turned back to my project.

As soon as I heard car pull away, a Knock came on my door. I sighed, pushing the poster board away, unfolding my legs.

" Come in." I said softly. Chess opened the door, took in me sitting on the floor, then went to stand my by bookshelf. He studied the books for a moment, then glanced at me before looking down.

" I'm sorry,” he said, just as softly as I had. I nodded, and he frowned.

" Was it really on your birthday?" I flinched, and he nodded. After a slight hesitation, he folded down on the floor next to me, so close I could feel his body heat.

" What did you do? Afterwards, I mean." I met his eyes quizzically, but all I saw was curiosity.

" I coped." I said, sighing, not meeting his eyes. I saw him frown.

" Why didn't you let yourself cry today? I saw that you wanted to." I stiffened.

" I don't cry in front of people." he shook his head.

" Why? It would let people know you cared." I met his gaze steadily, surprised.

" No, it would tell people you have weaknesses." he sighed, and we sat in silence for a while. Finally he said quietly

" I don't think you think that. I think you think that if you cry, you'll let people know You actually care, and you don't want people to know that." I shot him a dirty look.

" You think whatever you want, even if it's in twisted sentences that no one knows how to interpret." he smiled slightly.

" Alright, fine. How DID you cope?" I stiffened, then sprang up.

" Jonathan should be home soon." I said, changing the subject. He frowned, than slowly got to his feet.

" Izzy." he said, In that same tone he'd used at the Cemetery. I turned to him wearily.

" Yes?" I said, surprised my voice was so steady. He reached over and gripped my shoulders gently, pulling me towards him, till he could turn his head and whisper in my ear.

" I never got to say, Happy birthday." then he pulled back, but only for a fraction of a second. The next second he was kissing me.

I knew it was going to happen. And I had been dead set on refusing to kiss him back, until his lips met mine, that is.

All my reproaches flew out of my mind, and I couldn't think about anything except for him, and his sweet, warm lips, and hands, and feel....

And the fact that he would soon be my brother......

Not even that could stop me from kissing him, from pressing my lips harder against his, from locking his hair in my grip in a playful way.


No, the only thing that did stop us was the phone ringing.


Jonathan was in the hospital.

By the time we got there, he was in surgery, and he wouldn't be out for another two hours- at least.

Apparently, he had skidded off the road, and made a pretzel around a tree, which ejected him. Some of his vertebras had broken, and they said he might have internal bleeding. Chess called his parents, but somehow convinced them to stay there for now, and he'd call them immediately if something changed.

When he got out of surgery, he was too doped to talk, though the doctors said he was amazingly stable. They offered us a room to stay in, incase something happened, but we declined and headed home.

I was staring out the window at a red light when he smacked the steering wheel, making me jump.

" How can you be so fucking CALM?" he asked, catching me off guard. I frowned.

" I don't know. I'm used to surprises. I learned to cope. I don't know." I muttered, shaking my head as he drove off again.

" Well, then tell me HOW to cope, because I’m about to explode." I shrugged, and he growled, frustrated.


When we got home, he fallowed me into my room. I sighed.

" Chess, I just want to be left alone. Please, just leave." I said, asking in a hushed voice. He growled.

" How do you do it? Your almost as calm as can be. And when we talked about your Foster brother, not a look of remorse. You didn't break down when you saw the home video. How do you do that? How do you cope with things like that?"

I felt something snap inside, and I'm not sure why, but suddenly I was rolling up my sleeves, baring my red and white lines, away from him.

" Do want to know how I COPE? How I DEAL with things like this? THIS is how I cope." I spun to face him, and his jaw hit the floor as I thrust my wrist, with the red puckering lines on them into the space between us. After a second I continued in a hushed, calmer tone.

" I've been through more than most people care to know. I've DONE more things than people care to know. This is just one of those things. This is why I never told Andy I loved him- because no one, not even him, can ever love me back. I'm too broken." then, rolling them back down, I ran past him and ran out side into the pitch black of the night- only because in the safety of the dark could I cry.

when I woke up, at first I couldn't figure out why my bed was so hard. then I realized I wasn't on my bed, I wasn't in my room- I was in the forest, that was towards the back of my house- err, what used to be my house.

I'd decided last night, after a long crying spell, that it wasn't good for me to stay here. I'd wait for Jenny and John to get home, then get in trouble with the law- or run away, whichever got me away faster. now that someone knew, EXSPECIALLY someone like Chess, the sooner i got out of there, the better.

I walked up the back steps, and had the common sense to look in the window.

Chess was sleeping in the middle of the hallway, to where you had to go over him to get to the staircase.

Well shit.

at the same instant, i looked up, and saw the drain pipe, and my conveniantly open window.

chapter eight

it took me 30 minutes, but I got up there.


I took a nice, long shower, and took my sweet time changing, knowing he was up. I heard him in his room, muttering to him self. Finally I opened the door quietly, hoping I'd just slip by.

No such luck.

He had his door open, and I had to go past him to go downstairs. I seriously considered the drain pipe again, but as I was turning around, he came out of his room- with nothing but BOXERS on, thank you very much- and saw me. he frowned, seeing me changed and my hair wet.

" How’d you get past me?" I shrugged.

" Drain pipe." he scowled.

" Mom would kill you if she knew that. When did you get