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jennaferz

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So this is what it feels like to have a broken heart, Deni thought as she sat on her roof, staring up at the starry sky above her.

She hadn’t seen Michael or Taylor in three months, and still her insides felt as though they were crumbling every second, as though she was dying, as though any moment she would just collapse into tears and scream that she couldn’t do this anymore.

And she just wanted to get out of this hellhole, as far away as she could get…because Taylor got out of the rehab center the next day.

And she knew that he wasn’t likely to leave her alone.

She closed her eyes against the splendor of the velvet sky; this was what she did whenever she felt she might violate her tearless resolution. It was getting easier to push away all her feelings--except the ones for Taylor.

And this she did not understand.

He had gotten her mother killed, for God’s sake--why couldn’t she hate him as much as she said she did? Why in the world did she still love him? Really, though, she knew why. He was the first boy she had ever loved; the first boy she had ever kissed; the first boy who had ever really thought her worthy of his love. And she knew that he was still influencing her; she hadn’t had sex with anyone since she’d gone to see him.

She opened her eyes and stared back up at the stars. There were so many constellations up there, so many stories, so many silhouettes of things that had happened and things that were yet to happen.
Silhouettes of pain…of love…of brokenness.

And she knew with certainty that hers was a broken silhouette.
Sighing, she climbed back down into her room and pulled out her notebook. Thinking of her heart, thinking of what it would take to mend it, she began to write. An hour later, she stared down at the finished product.

the sweet caress of twilight
left its glimmer on her arm
the moonlight played upon her face
a soft night, free of harm

but cold and dry her heart lay
inside a corpse it cried
although the light shone on her arm
its warmth, for her, had died

chorus:
oh, for another happy day
for one more smile to give
i ask another tear to shed
just one more day to live
my skin forgets the breath of air
and gentle touch of rain
just give me one more chance at life
and then its yours again

as morning dawned upon her
its beauty soft and pale
her heart strove to receive it
but its love had all gone stale

the days passed into darkness
and naught disturbed her rest
her heart longed for just one thing
to relieve her hate's distress

chorus:
oh, for another soul to love
for one kiss to bestow
i ask another life to light
just one more chance to glow
my heart forgets the brush of love
and tender embrace of care
just give me one more chance to live
the way i never dared

bridge:
a stolen fantasy evolved
into reality so hard
she keeps her heart so locked away
it remains unscathed, unscarred

and as the sun rises again
upon her pondering face
a figure lays his hand upon
her cheek, and she lies dazed

her eyes flutter and open
and her heart begins to sigh
it took just one warm caring touch
to make her feelings fly

chorus:
oh, smile upon this happy day
with many kisses to give
smile for a beating heart
and a full life to live
my heart forgets the dullness
of a life spent in shadow
just let me keep what i now have
and let the world's love grow.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tossed the notebook aside, closed her curtains, and within moments was asleep.

When Deni awoke the next morning, she rolled over and squinted against the sunlight streaming into her open curtains.

Wait…her open curtains? She had been so careful to shut them the night before.

Slowly she sat up. Sure enough, her door was open too. And the notebook that she had so carelessly tossed onto the floor the previous night was gone.

Taylor, she thought.

She stood stiffly, pulling on a high-necked shirt and sweats. Slowly she walked out of her room and padded down the stairs, stopping when she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Her father’s, and…she strained, listening…yes, Taylor’s.

Why the hell was he here?

She stood outside the kitchen and listened to what they were saying. Why was her father speaking to Taylor? He knew that he was the reason Deni’s mother was dead.

“I’m glad you were brave enough to come talk to me, Taylor,” her father said. His voice was kind, and Deni’s hands shook. What was he saying?“I think I can understand what you did. It sounds like you have the same feelings for Denise that I had for her mother.”

“Thank you for understanding, sir,” Taylor said, and Deni could hear the relief in his voice. “Now I just have to make Deni understand.”

Her father laughed. “Good luck.”

Deni shook her head, anger overwhelming her. How dare her father forgive him? He had killed her mother.

She swung open the door so hard it banged against the wall and pranced in. She was pissed and intended to let them both know that.

“Denise,” her father said, surprised. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I heard voices,” she said bitchily, “and noticed that someone had been in my room.”

Right away she noticed Taylor’s blush.

“So,” she said. “What are you doing here? And in my room, too, no less.”

“I--”

“I’d think hard before you give me your excuses,” she interrupted. “Because if you lie to me it’s not going to help you any.”

“Denise, I just wanted to see you.” His eyes were so pleading…but she just rolled her eyes.

“And do you have my notebook? Because I really don’t appreciate you taking, and probably reading, my private things.”

“I just saw it on the floor and…it’s really good, Deni, I didn’t know you could write like that--”

“Don’t suck up to me. I don’t want to hear about how good it is. I want you to give it back.”

“Denise, be polite,” her father said sternly, and she turned to him incredulously.

“Polite? Why the hell should I be polite? He killed my mother!”

“And my wife,” her father said quietly, dangerously. “Do you think I loved her any less than you did?”

She had been opening her mouth to go on, but at this she stopped short. Bashfully she bowed her head. “I still don’t want to talk to him,” she said quietly.

“I don’t care. I am your father and I am telling you to be polite, which does not mean ignore. Take your notebook, sit down, and be civil.”
Narrowing her eyes, Deni sat down slowly.

“Now,” her father said. “I am going to leave the two of you alone.”

“I am so sick of people saying that,” Deni muttered, and her father shot her a look.

“I want to be able to hear you talking in here. If you don’t work things out, that’s not really my business. But you need to at least give it a shot.”

And with that, he walked out.

Glowering, Deni stared at the table. There was a long silence, and finally Taylor sighed and ventured, “I’m sorry.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am so sick of that word.”

“Well, I don’t know how else to say it,” he snapped. “I am sorry. You obviously have no idea how sorry I am, because every time I say it you just put on a bitchy face and brush it away. I’m sick of that. I wish you would listen.”

“Why should I listen to you?” she retorted. “Think of everything you’ve done to me, everything you’ve taken from me--”

“I know it was wrong,” he cut in heatedly. “Isn’t that enough? Isn’t it enough that I apologized, truly meaning every word? What more do you want from me, Denise?”

She looked away, squeezing her eyes shut, praying to God that no tears would come. “I just want you to leave me alone, Taylor,” she whispered. “Is that too much to ask? I want you to disappear. I never want to have to see you again. Why can’t you at least give me that?”

He nodded slowly, and she looked away from the tears in his eyes. “I won’t bother you again,” he said quietly, and with that he stood and left the house.

Deni clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them, feeling her cheeks flush and her heart race. Finally--finally--he was gone, and her heart could be at peace.