CHAPTER 1 : Fear Of Letting Go

"You're expelled," two words that collapsed my whole world. They rang through my mind on an infinite loop, riddling my heart with guilt. I had truly made a mess of everything.

I sat in a chair in front of the headmistress' office, headphones on, as I waited to be picked up. Reaching up to my face, feeling the bruise that was currently forming around my eye, I groaned. It stung but the pain was incomparable to that which clutched my heart at the moment.

Jack Patterson and a woman I assumed was his mother chose that exact moment to walk out of the office. Jack looked disgruntled, a scowl forming onto his face the moment his eyes landed on me. He looked like he was just about ready to kill me.

His blue eyes turned icy as he glared daggers at me. The emotion in his eyes was raw. He didn't have to say it, I could feel it thickening the air between us. I could feel his hatred.

I took a sharp, quite breath, turning away from him. I didn't have the courage to face him. I swallowed down the tears pickling at my eyes, threatening to fall. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

I raised my gaze in time to watch him walk away. Years of friendship and this was how it ended. There was no remorse in his eyes, no sense of guilt. As if the pain currently wrenching my heart didn't exist. How could he just walk away?

We were supposed to be best friends, inseparable, yet he made it seem so easy to abandon everything we'd built. As horrible as his betrayal felt I knew the only person I could truly blame for this was me. It was all my fault; I should have kept my mouth shut.

I was alone, again. For the second time in my life I lost someone I cared about. It was more pain than I thought I could handle. I hated feeling alone, yet it's how I always ended up. Maybe I was destined to be alone. People were always going to be taken from me or they'd walk away from me.

I slumped back into my seat, as I ran my hands through my hair. I would have given anything to go back in time and make the last twenty four hours never happen. I felt sick, actually physically sick, as if my stomach would turnover at any moment. I had ruined everything and now my best friend hated me; I hated me.

When Harrod finally arrived, my heart was so riddled with despair that it took everything I had left in me to get to my feet. My body felt heavy, weighed by guilt, regret and sorrow.

Harrod helped with my bags as he led me out to the car. This was good bye.

My father had talked to the headmistress, apologized profoundly for my behavior but she wouldn't let me stay. Not that I wanted to. This place was haunted for me now. I couldn't stay, too many bad things had happened. I wanted to leave.

Walking towards the parking lot I turned back, giving the school one last glance. I never would have thought I would be pained to leave this place. From the day my father sent me here all I ever wanted to do was go back home. I just never thought it would be like this.

..................

It took a few hours before we arrived in West Chapel. I lazily opened my eyes as the car came to a stop. I'd dozed off watching the the trees and cars we passed blur. The sun had already set as I opened the car door; carefully, I stepped out of the car listening to my combat boots crunch the gravel. I looked up, the moon was barely visible shrouded by the thick grey clouds. I watched as Harrod took the bags from the trunk and set them by the stone steps to the main door.

"Welcome home, sir."

Home. It was such a weird feeling being back here. It was exactly the way I remembered it and yet so different. Before me stood a Victorian style gothic mansion, built completely of stone. It was a huge house—a huge lonely house. Did it always seem this lonely, this cold?

I helped Harrod with the bags; he said wasn't necessary but I insisted. I moved numbly, knowing full well that the weight of my emotions were being held back by a thin veil that would tear at any minute. But for the time being I would accept the temporary relief.

We walked up to the massive oak door, it was intricately carved with designs of vines, twisted trees and birds. Pushing it open we walked into the foyer. The floor was marble, the ceiling was high and had a chandelier hung from it, it was made of polished metal and tiny dangling crystals. To my left was the entrance to the parlor and to my right the was the entrance to the dining room. In front of me there was a staircase that led to the second floor.

We carried my bags up to my room, where I dismissed Harrod, telling him I was tired and I would be going to bed. He left with a simple nod and I shut the door behind him. I stood in my room alone as I took it in. I hadn't been in my own room in seven years but everything was exactly the way I had left it.

My mahogany, four poster bed stood against the far left corner, flanked by two bedside tables on either side. My walls were painted in a light green, and the ceiling was cream. The floor was wooden. A bookshelf stacked with my favorites from adventures to classics, was propped in the far right corner, facing the bed. Directly ahead of me was a bay window looking over a thick evergreen forest.

I walked over to my bed sitting by the edge as I slowly removed my shoes. I stared at the floor as a tear streamed down my cheek. It finally it hit me, in the confines and privacy of my room, I suddenly felt my heart tightening. Whatever numbness that had been keeping me together dissipated and a full wave of pain washed over me, pulling me under an ocean of guilt and despair. I was grasping for air, trying to kept above the water but my limbs were weak and I found myself drowning. I curled into myself as I sobbed uncontrollably soaking my pillow. My whole body convulsed as the pain consumed me.

It hurt so much. My lungs burned begging for air, my heart ached seeking relief and my mind throbbed as my thoughts pounded at my temples. I hated the pain.

But I deserved it.

I deserved every ounce of pain coursing through my body. If I'd only kept my mouth shut, none of this would have ever happened. I'd still have my best friend. I wouldn't be alone, again.

I had ruined everything. My best friend hated me and it was all my fault. I had destroyed the one good thing I had in my life. Not only had I gotten myself expelled, I had dragged him along with me.

My thoughts laid waste to my mind and I let them. I let the voice telling me that I was worthless ravage my psych because I believed I deserved it. I let myself be swaddled by guilt because it was only fair. I let the self deprecation work it's way through my mind till I felt like nothing.

I laid on the bed for a while even after the tears had run dry. I sniffled as I clung my bedsheets. Time lost all meaning. I could have been laying there for minutes or hours, I couldn't tell. But eventually I decided to get up.

I staggered to my feet as I blinked away the tears and stumbled to my en suit bathroom. Staring at the mirror, my eyes were bloodshot, and the bruising around my left eye had started to swell. My hair was a tousled mess and my whole face was flashed. I splashed water onto my face, then returned to my room.

Changing out of my clothes and into my pajamas I slipped into my blankets. It didn't take long before I drifted off to sleep.

.....................

"Why are you crying?" I looked up, startled by the boy who stood in front of me.

"I—I'm not," I stammered, furiously wiping under my cheeks. He crooked his head slightly to the side, his big blue eyes staring curiously at me. I shrank under his gaze I took a step back from him.

"I'm Jack," a warm friendly smile spread across his face, "what's your name?"

"Mar-cus," my voice trembled.

"Well, Marcus. I don't think you should be crying. Especially not today."

"Why?" I sniffled wiping my nose with the sleeve of my jersey.

"Wanna see something funny?" He didn't give me a second to answer, before I knew it, he was dragging me to the front of the library where we crouched behind a cart.

"See that lady over there?" He pointed to the librarian seated at the front desk, I nodded, "She's super mean to everyone, I'm gonna teach her a lesson."

I crooked a brow "What are you goin' to do?"

"Just watch."

He took a slingshot out of his back pocket and before I could stop him he was aimed for the librarian and he took the shot. He knocked the librarian wig right off her head. Every kid in the library burst into laughter and the poor woman scrambled for her hair piece.

I tried to suppress the chuckles but I was too weak. I burst out in laughter as well, it was such a strange sound. I hadn't laughed in so long. He laughed along with me. He had a goofy laugh that made me laugh even more.

"I knew I could make you laugh," he said with a rather smug smile spread across his face. I smiled back at him, shyly. "Wanna be friends?"

"You want to be friends with me?" I furrowed my brows at that. I was the weird kid crying in the library, why would he want to be my friend.

He nodded his head, his shaggy hair bobbing with him. I smiled shyly at the nice boy. I had been at the school for two weeks and been so lonely. I had no friends, no bothered to talk to me and I hated everything about this place. I missed my room and all my stuff. I missed playing in the garden, running around in the halls and hiding in the library. I wanted to go home so badly.

But the moment Jack became my friend, I started hating the school a little less, I never loved it there, it was school. But having someone to talk to made surviving it a lot less depressing.

He made me laugh, he made the most stupid jokes, that I always laughed at. We'd talk for hours about random things, from books to eight headed lizard monsters. And on days I really really missed home, he'd tell me stories, stupid ones that would always cheer me up. He was my best friend best, my only friend.

But now I'd lost him.

....................

The rising sun woke me up. As light seeped into my room through the gap between my curtains, I slowly drew my eyes open. It took a second to register where I was. Meaning it wasn't all just a bizarre dream, I had honestly returned home. With a groggy mind and a weak body I reluctantly got out of bed. I dragged my feet to my en-suite bathroom, my vision blurry.

Using the heels of my palms, I rubbed the sand out of my eyes. I started the shower and as the air billowed with steam, I stripped out off my clothes and tossed them into the clothing basket. I jumped into the shower and let the hot water spray over my body. I moved mechanically as numbness swaddled once again.

I turned off the shower and reached for a towel. Wrapping it around my waist I walked up to the mirror. Using my hand; I wiped off the steam. My dark hair was dripping wet and my skin was flushed from the hot water. My black eye was still bruised but at least the swelling had gone down. I grabbed another towel ruffling it through my hair, before I returned to my room to get dressed.

I tugged a pair of grey sweatpants up my legs and pulled down a baggy t-shirt over my torso. And without the slightest bit of enthusiasm I dragged my feet downstairs.

"Good morning, master Marcus," Harrod greeted me as soon I walked into the dining room. He stood by the lengthy oak dining table. He was dressed in his usual attire, a black suit, a white button up shirt with a black tie tied into a perfect knot around his throat and shiny dress shoes.

"Morning," I mumbled, pulling out a chair and plopping onto it. My mood was still sour. But I felt more composed than I had the previous night.

"Shall I retrieve your breakfast?" he asked and I shrugged.

"I'll just have coffee."

He returned a couple minutes later with a tray, holding a mug, a sugar basin, a preacher holding milk and one with freshly brewed coffee.

"Where is my father?" I hesitantly asked as I poured the coffee into my mug.

"He's in New York, on business. I believe he'll be back at the end of the month." I dropped four lumps of sugar into the mug then added the milk.

"Oh...okay." I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the hot liquid going down, bringing relief to my sore throat. "Did he say anything about where I'll be going to school?"

"He did have me make arrangements for you to attend West Chapel High School." I gawked at him, setting my mug onto the table.

"He's not sending me away?"

"I believe not."

"Oh," that's all that came out, I wasn't disappointed at the turn of events. I had expected my father to send me away to another boarding school by the end of the week. I guess staying wasn't bad. This was my home after all. But I also wasn't excited about staying, I hadn't been home in so long, I hardly knew the place.

Staying also meant I would have to face my father about the expulsion. I knew he wouldn't be thrilled about it. He'd worked really hard to make sure I stayed in that school but I'd ruined that. I was in for a harsh reprimanding, I was sure of it.

Part of me felt like I deserved it. This wasn't like me at all. I wasn't the kid who got into trouble. I did as I was told, I had straight A's, I was quiet, I followed all the rules, I was a good student. Now because of one mistake I had ruined it all. The school had a strict no fighting policy. I wasn't a fighter, I had no idea what had come over me. Well that's a lie, I knew exactly what came over me. I just regretted I let my rage cloud my judgment. And it got me in a ton load of trouble.

Boarding school seemed like a better option. I'd be lonely either way, so it really didn't matter where I was. At least I could hide from my father for a while at a boarding school.

...................

I needed to do something. Being cooped up in my room all day was driving me crazy. I was sick of crying, so I wandered out of my room, drifting through the house. It had been too long since I had wandered the halls of my own home, yet I still remembered every nook and cranny of it.

There was a spot under the stairs that I used to hide under when I was five and I didn't want to go to the doctor. It was a really bad hiding spot because my mom would always find me. She would promise ice cream if I went with her willing. I always caved.

I passed the library remembering how I used to sneak out at night when my parents thought I was sleeping. It was an excuse to get out of my room. I would wander through the halls, sneak into the library and sometimes I would even go outside. It was like this little game I played with myself. I was an adventurer exploring a new world.

I eventually wandered out to the garden. Every part of this house brought back memories but the garden brought the happiest. I was pleased to find that someone had been maintaining it. This was my mother's favorite part of the house. She'd planted hundreds of different flowers. They painted a vast array of colors throughout the whole garden. It was honestly the most beautiful place I'd ever been.

I walked past daisies, then daffodils, but my eyes landed on a rose shrub. Crimson roses adorned the shrub. Roses stood for love but it depended on the color of the rose. A yellow stood for the kind of love you felt towards a friend. A red rose stood for romantic love. But a crimson rose, was for the love you felt for a person you lost. They represented mourning a loved one. My fingers grazed the soft petals of the rose. I picked the rose, careful not to prick my fingers on the thorns.

A tear streaked down my cheek again, remembering the last time I'd held a crimson rose. I could still hear the hysterical cries from my aunt Jessica as they lowered my mother's body into the grave, feel the rain as it washed over my frail body as knelt in front of it, and remember the pain I'd felt that night, it was heart wrenching. I missed my mother so much.

The cemetery was only a ten minute drive from my house. Harrod was more than inclined to take me there.

In the last few years there had been boundless times I had wished for at least the chance to visit my mother's grave. Each time I found myself resenting my father a little more. Maybe in his mind he thought it would be better for me to be somewhere else. Somewhere I wasn't constantly reminded of her.

But being away only made me hurt more.

Once there, I got out of the car, leaving Harrod alone. I needed to do this on my own. The grass squished under my shoes as I passed gravestone after gravestone until I stood in front hers.

A sad smile crept onto my face as I wiped away the lone tear that slid down my cheek.

"Hi Mom," I placed the rose on top of her headstone, "I'm back."