Behind every mean girl...there's a tragedy

At last

 After half an hour of driving, I finally recognized something that gives me an idea of where I am. To think that I've lived in San Francisco my entire life but it still takes me a good amount of times to know where I am. Such a pity.

"Yes, such a pity," Kenny says. "I'm in tears right now."

I ignore her ranting. I'm out of that hell on earth so I'm the happiest girl alive now.

"Where do you want to go first, free woman?" Sarah asks, amused by my mood.

I haven't thought about this. I've been planning my escape for what seems like forever but I forgot to plan what to do after I'm out. I can't exactly go to Steven and mom's, they're the ones who put me in there in the first place. They won't hesitate to just throw me back in there for "my own good." My dad has been siding with them lately. They might be threatening him as far as I know. I refuse to believe he has really turned on me of his own will even if I have jeopardized his happiness.

A memory flashes in my mind when I stop in front of a road sign. There's somewhere I can go that nobody will think to look for me. That's not entirely true. They will think to look for me there; it will be at the bottom of the list. That should give me a few hours by myself – enough time to let a waterfall out and then some.

I stand in front of the cabin with my hands in the scrub's pockets. I should think about changing out of these. They're crunchy and uncomfortable. I might as well have been wearing a piece of cardboard.

I breathe in the fresh air in the atmosphere. The smell of summer come rushing in my nostrils. I've miss this, the smell of flowers burgeoning, pollen being released in the air, and butterflies and birds flying. There's a backyard in the hospital but I never wanted to go out no matter how many times the nurses tried to make me. It didn't feel right to be tasting freedom but not being able to enjoy it to the fullest.

I pick a dandelion from the bush by the wooden steps. I blow the small white branches away with an empty mind until something catches my attention.

There's a car parked on the other side of the house – a black pick-up truck. Someone coming in might miss it easily but I know everything about this place. I know when the slightest little detail changes.

Who could it possibly be? That place hasn't had any visitors in years – except the housekeeper who comes in once a week to keep the place from decaying – but somebody decides to come in the day I pick it as my hide-out?

I march inside like I own the place – I kind of do since my mother's husband does. I'm ready to give the intruder some piece of my mind, hopefully it's not anyone I know. There's nobody I know who wouldn't go give me away to my parents if they find me here.

Except, maybe, the boy crouching in the middle of the living room emptying his water tubes. I see somebody's ahead of me.

He scrambles up when I close the front door. "Rachel?" Brandon breathes out in-between fits of hiccups. I don't think I've ever seen a boy cry so beautifully before. I've seen them ugly cry over a broken heart, pity cry after a humiliation, and some even brave cry but never as beautiful as the sight developing now.

I stop a few feet away from him."Hi."

"I thought you were..." he trails. He wipes his tears with hands and wipe them on his jeans.

"Incarcerated in a nut house?" I finish for him. "Yes, I was."

He seems confused, "They let out?"

I giggle a little. "Not exactly but I don't want to talk about it."

He looks like he's about to argue. He watches me carefully before dropping it.

"Umm...Okay," he shifts on his feet. It's like he has no idea what to do. "I should go," he breaks the silence.

"No. Stay," I stop him in his tracks. "I want you to stay."

"Rachel?" Sarah says carefully, "What are you doing?"

I ignore her like I always do when someone else is in the room. Being classified as a nut case who tried to kill herself is bad enough, add talking to people in her head to the mix and I will never see the light of day again.

"We don't have to talk if it bothers you," I reassure him when I see his reluctance.

"I'd like that," he says.

We settle on the beige couch with our feet on top of the glass table. Brandon knocks the flower pot off with his long feet. I giggle in delight. He rushes to catch it but it's too late. Fresh Lilacs and Sunflowers fall down in a mess of water and glass pieces.

"Oh shit," he mutters as he tries to pick the glasses off the floor.

"Are you that desperate to see the color of your blood?" I laugh.

He lifts his head to look at me with a puzzled expression on his face. "What?"

I point my fingers toward the sharp objects he's getting off of the floor, "You're going to get hurt. Just leave it, the housekeeper will take care of it when she comes. This will be her first big job in weeks."

"I can't leave them broken, they're going to hurt somebody," he insists. Then he whisper, "Or themselves."

That's one way to shut all my happiness back in its box.

He gets off the floor to retake his place near me on the couch. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Flowers have a low life expectancy once they're off the ground."

He smiles, "I wasn't talking about the flowers."

"Oh," I reply as if I have no idea where he's going with this.

He suddenly turns me toward him, "I know we agreed to no talking but I've kept quiet for years. I don't want to do it anymore especially after everything you've been through. I left you broken and now you're hurting yourself to ease the pain."

I keep my face straight. My breathing is calm.

He reaches out to touch me. I pull myself away from him. I can't breathe so close to him. "You didn't do anything wrong," I tell him. "I was mad at one point but I've grown out of it. I understand now. To be frank, I probably would have done the same if the situation was reverse."

"No, you wouldn't. I know you. You're not a coward like me. You never was and never will be."

I snort. "I don't think we're talking about the same person. I am a coward."

He shakes his head. "You would have said something. You would have tried to help."

"That does seems like something the old me would have done. But I'm not the same person anymore. I've changed, Brandon."

"I've noticed," he smiles shyly.

He returns to his serious state, "I meant what I said. I want to help, Rae. Just tell me how."

My heart electrifies by hearing the nickname passing his lips. It's been so long since I've heard it. No one else has ever call me that.

I want to let him in but I think I have forgotten how. I'm too used to keeping everyone at arm's length.

"Have you forgotten what he has done to you?" Sarah interjects like a petrified mother who has just been told about their kids' crack addiction. "How stupid can you possibly be to even consider this? He left you broken without a second thought."

But he's apologizing, why shouldn't I consider it?

I miss my best friend. No matter how many years Cassie has been in my life, she has never been able to replace him. Brandon is my best friend even with his years of unexplained absence.

"Stay," I tell him. "That's how you can help. Stay with me."

He encircles his arms around me, "I wasn't planning on leaving."

I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, and letting his warmth wrap all over me. I know what I have to do now. I'm ready.

"Don't do anything stupid," Sarah warns.

I smile wickedly, "Doing stupid stuff is my calling."