Chapter Thirteen(Remembering)

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Chapter Thirteen   

Hello! Thank you so much for reading and commenting and voting and being freaking amazing. I just love every single one of you. A/N JASON NEVER EXISTED! I am so sorry if I confused the crap out of any of you. I had a name slip up...was supposed to be Devin the entire time.

I also wanted to warn you about the language in this chapter, even though I'm sure you're used to it. Also, this book may be persuasive with suicide and I just wanted to say if you have any thoughts on that please just message me and we can talk it through. I know what depression feels like and I would love it more than anything to help anyone going through that. You all are beautfiul and wonderful, never forget that. Always here<3>

(Remembering)

Andy

   Fuck Murey. Fuck her for being such a bitch. Fuck her for making me actually feel something. I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to the ivory wall in front of me, smelling all the paint linger in the air from my art. I banged my face repeatedly into it's surface, groaning in anger. I hated how she made me felt. I hated that with her I didn't feel numb anymore. I hated that I felt like without her I wouldn't last; as if she was this force of light keeping all my darkness intact.

   I wanted to scream at the absence of her naive and innocent personality. Had I really chased it away, because if so I didn't want to be responsible for changing her. I took a deep breath and pulled at the thin straps of my tank top. They felt too flimsy to even last. Maybe that's what Murey and I were-too brittle with each other's past that we both could see the end coming. I didn't want the end to come this time though.

   I glanced down at my Batman tattoo, hearing the annoying pounding of some lame pop song downstairs. My fingers traced it's oval shape and for some reason at that moment I couldn't function without a thought of Murey passing through my empty skull. I bit my lip and fumbled a hand through my choppy hair, as I reluctantly made my way down the short set of stairs. I couldn't put a name on this feeling that was overtaking my chest. I felt like my heart was in the need of air and space, as if somehow it was crumbling inside the cage of my bones. Why couldn't she just say she loved me? Did she? How could she though...Murey deserved so much better.

   I shook my head at the pansy ass thoughts that seemed to never end in my mind. I never thought about someone this way. I didn't care. I shouldn't care. I shouldn't fucking care about some bitch that's too young to understand life or anything inside of that word. I had to literally guide her it seemed. Who fucking wants a child in their life anyway.

   Music trickled into my ears with a louder call, one that contained the lyrics of

"You're so pretty, when you cry-when you cry. Wasn't ready to hear you say goodbye. Now you're tearing me apart-tearing me apart. You're tearing me apart."

   I cringed with the sound of their British boy accents, understanding the words, but too lost in the horrific girly undertone of everything. I scratched the back of my head, suddenly feeling a dozen female bodies grinding on my legs and back.

"Get the hell off me." I growled.

   They didn't hear me I guess, because they didn't move. They began spinning off some seductive lines here and there...which only infuriated me further.

"I said, get the hell off me."

   Again, their pathetic whore bodies never left mine, so I begin shoving them off. I watched a blonde crash into a guy to my side, while the other two brunettes fell flat onto the floor beneath them. I didn't even look back, I just kept snaking through the ungodly crowd of wild partiers. Devin was set up in the large DJ booth ahead, wearing a pair of large orange headphones.

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