Preston
Silence - a peacefully painful sound.
This is what it'll be like in the end.
In the end, the idea of peace is a temporary facade for the inevitability of pain that follows. Or maybe, it's the other way around.
Maybe, pain is the facade. The mask. The illusion. The temporary aspect of it in this life is only available until we experience that prolonged peace. The prolonged peace that can only be achieved by hope. Hope that tranquillity and serenity win the battle of torment and suffering.
But, that's all a bunch of fucking bullshit.
Hope doesn't exist.
My darkness overpowers any light in my life. Even, the luminous glow from the river below me is in a sea of obscurity.
Frustrated, I yank the strands of grass (from the ground I'm sitting on) and throw it off the cliff, watching as it floats peacefully on the surface of the river. The shards of moonlight reflect on the river below me creating a slight angelic glow and the grass, gradually, drifts away, undisturbed.
How the fuck is grass more fucking peaceful than I am?
I take a breath and the cool air of the night travels through me as I crane my neck to view the stars glittered in the night sky. It's nearing the end of winter and our winters are pretty warm here.
God, if you're listening to me, please help me. I'm begging you. Give me hope that I will survive through this.
I stay there for a second, desperate for an immediate response to my prayer.
"You're the one who gave me this and you're not doing anything to fucking help me!" I yell at the sky and that peacefully painful silence enwraps me again. Taking deep breaths, I run my hands through my brown, curly hair and rest my hands at the back of my neck. I stare at the river as everything catches up to me.
I notice the small waves of the river intensify, almost as if it's opening a doorway for me. The ripples lure me into its enchantment and I feel myself complying to it.
This is the doorway to my peace.
The end to my pain.
There is no hope for me. There is nothing left for me here. There is only pain and I'm tired of it. It pulls me into a void of utter emptiness and solitude and renders me stranded to compete with its suffocating nature.
All I have to do is let go and it'll all be over. No more pain. No more loneliness. No more misery. No more Preston Brooks.
My eyes flutter shut as I force away from the treasured memories of my miserable life and only remember the events that are driving me off this cliff. Each memory urging me closer to the edge.
All you need is one push and that's it.
I oblige to the irresistible charm of the river and call myself for the last push, to end it all.
A presence pulls me to a halt.
Her presence.
The familiar floral scent calms my racing thoughts and my mind is set at ease. A small breeze gushes past as she sits in the space next to me and all my previous, rash thoughts vanish at the pleasant sight of her.
"Blue?" I say to her without moving my gaze from the placid ripples of the river.
"Dark fucking blue," she murmurs and I detect the melancholy in her gentle tone.
Between the two of us, we created a code so only we would know what we're feeling. Blue is the explicit code for sadness and the shade of the colour determines the extent of it.
I glance to the side and her long, wavy golden hair shines under the moonlight. My hazel eyes wander down her vivid face to her small, little nose dusted by a couple of freckles. Her pink, plump lips are etched into a frown and something tugs within me when I view that.
"Avery," she hums and I call her again, "look at me."
Her head turns and I am struck by her large, ocean-eyed pupils which send a shiver down my spine at the coldness within them. Discreetly, I release a shuddered breath and continue searching the wonders of her blue orbs.
"I'm not high if that's what you're looking for," the monotone tone to her voice answers my silent question as I don't see any red within her beautiful eyes.
"I'm just checking," I inform her and she moves her head down so her golden locks frame her face.
Moments of a comfortable silence pass when she, slowly, rests her head on my shoulder, the action laced with utter hesitation. To calm that, I rest the side of my head on her one and she relaxes.
"I'm sorry...I didn't know you were going to be here," she breaks the silence and I sense she's on the verge of slumber.
"It's fine. I'm actually glad you came," I reassure her because I know her anxiety will cause her self-blame to eat her up inside.
She stirs and stays silent. I question her actions but the slow breathing informs me she has fallen asleep. I wait another minute to ensure she's fallen into a deep sleep before I, gently, pick her up (careful not to wake her) and place her in my car.
When I arrive outside her house, her younger sister, Alyssa, opens the door and steps aside to let me in. I ascend the stairs and go to her room, placing her on her bed. Alyssa follows me and tucks her in. I admire the sleeping beauty on the bed as her golden locks sprawl across the pillow. Even in her natural state, the sight of her sends butterflies surging through me.
Taking a deep breath, I calm the rising sensation in my stomach and turn to leave her room. A thought struck me and I spin on my heel. Spotting her school blazer on the chair nearby, I rummage through it, quietly, and my fingers graze against the packet filled with the herby substance.
"Wait," Alyssa calls when I'm about to leave. She walks into Avery's attached bathroom, then comes out and looks through the bedside table. I remain there patiently because I know Avery has secret stashes scattered around her room.
They both look alike, however, Alyssa's eyes are a bit of a darker blue and her hair is a caramel colour, not golden like Avery's. Subtly, my eyes run over her features and I can say that Avery is much prettier than her. But Alyssa knows that and doesn't let that affect her.
She holds her hand out and two small packets of the same herby substance are present. "She'll be annoyed in the morning when she can't find anything," she says and I take them from her.
"It beats her being stoned the first day back to school," I whisper, placing them in my pocket, "don't tell her it was me."
"My lips are sealed," her hands go up in surrender and she pulls an imaginary zip over her mouth.
"Is Layla staying the night?" I ask before leaving. She nods her head and, hastily, I make my way to the front door. It is about 1 in the morning and winter break ended today which means I have school tomorrow.
I am exhausted.
A figure blocks my path at the bottom of the grand, marble steps. "What do you want, Layla?" I sigh at the sight of my overly-concerned sister. Her amber eyes sparkle with worry and her chestnut hair sits in a messy bun.
Layla and Alyssa are both best friends and are in their junior year, which is a year younger than Avery and I.
"Where have you been?! Me, mum and dad have been worried sick about you," her eyebrows furrow in anger and she crosses her arms.
I snicker at the mention of my father worrying about me.
"It is not funny, Preston. You were gone for hours!"
"You and I both know dad does not give two shits about me. It's just him, his business and his bastard heir." I spit and feel the fire of anger spread through my veins.
"Preston!" She warns and shakes her head. Layla steps forward and embraces me into a hug, my eyes shut and I return it.
"I know today has been extremely difficult for you but, please, we are here to help you. We care about you and we hate seeing you suffer." Her voice cracks a little and I clear my throat to avoid the tightening of it. "By the looks of it, she needs you more than she knows."
Don't bring Avery into it, Layla.
"Get some sleep, Layla. And don't worry about me," I brush the subject off and hold her by her shoulders.
Her smile is small but I see it and I open the front door.
"Last thing," I turn to face her, "who was she with tonight?"
Layla raises her eyebrow as if to say, 'who do you think?'
Joan Reeves, her boyfriend and my friend.