How to Paint Our Skies

How to Cast Spells

Dear Fin,

Today I saw her.

Yeah, her; your girlfriend. The only person in the world that I wish I could hate, that I have every right to hate, but can't find it in myself. And I don't know why. She's beautiful and intelligent and witty and . . . everything I wish I was. I know why you fell in love with her; I know why you love her more than you even liked me.

She was strolling down the street, her pretty light hair dancing behind her in the wind. Those aquamarine eyes glimmered in the sunshine, that eager smile playing on her lips; she was wearing a tank top that matched her eyes underneath a woollen jacket, a pair of navy skinny jeans and leather sandals. She looked like perfection; after all, she was your summer girl, even here in this dire winter.

I had been your winter girl. I was pale and covered my skin with many layers of fabric; because I could be cold, because I was shy, because I liked to be alone. Because I was alone. And no one liked me, like no one likes the cold. I am nothing like your summer girl.

Anyways, she was strolling down the street when she caught sight of me. She blinked, as if confused, or hiding tears (probably not, though, let's face it) and then . . . she smiled. She fucking smiled at me. That audacious summer girl of yours whipped out those snow white teeth of those and grinned. Followed with the mouthing of the word hello.

And I followed suit.

No matter how audacious it was, no matter how much I wanted to hate her, no matter if she was yours and I wasn't . . . I loved her because she made you happy, unlike me. Because she was always nice to me. Because she was like the summer to my winter.

And she walked away, like nothing had ever happened. Like she had never been there. And for a moment, I wondered if she had.

But of course she had. One doesn't simply imagine the appearance of their enemy in their territory, do they? Well, maybe that's not true.

Because she was never the enemy.

You were.

Encounter Number Eighteen:

For the first time, anger stirred within my bones. Anger was like a beast stuck within a cage, but once it was released . . . it went bat shit crazy, for lack of a better description. And thinking of you was making that beast just explode and morph into the Hulk.

"H-how da-dare you?" I shrieked, as I entered my room.

You're sprawled out on my bed, lazily flipping through the pages of some book. Your green eyes met mine with some confusion, completely puzzled, and you continued to watch me. You acted like you didn't know . . . oh, the audacity!

"Dove?" You asked, puzzled, and for once the use of that nickname didn't warm my heart. It built the fire, threatening a massive explosion of anger and Annalise Martin.

"Yo ta-talked to m-my da-dad! You ha-had no ri-right to d-do tha-that," I hissed, not caring for once that I was stuttering. I was angry. Angry. That was the only time I was angry at you during our relationship, other than the time.

Your eyes became understanding. "Dove, I . . . I'm worried about you. I didn't know what to do, I did what I thought was best-"

"Wha-what you tho-thought was best? You do-don't kn-know wha-what's best!" I snarled as you rose to your feet. "Ho-how da-dare you, Fin-Fin-Finland Eri-Erickso-son."

"You've been hurting yourself, dove . . . I didn't know how to help you. I've been so scared that something was going to happen to I asked for help. I- please don't be mad," you pleaded. "Please, I need you."

At that moment, though, those words weren't enough. Usually, they're, but at that time they weren't.

And maybe, that was the first warning sign, showing that we weren't meant to last. Unlike with her, you weren't completely hypnotized by me and at that moment I definitely wasn't by you. And that . . . that just shows. Because lovers are like magicians, like those wizards you and I love. Love is a spell you must place on another. You and I were never really under that spell, or if we're it was a weak one, because you and I weren't destined to be together.

But when it comes to love . . . if we're being completely honest, you're like Albus Dumbledore (arguable the greatest warlock of all times) to my Hagrid (technically a wizard, but isn't allowed to practice magic).

"Go," I whispered. "Le-leave m-m-me al-alone."

Your lower lip started to tremble. "Annalise-"

"Go," I snapped.

And you did.

But of course, that didn't last long.

End of Encounter Number Eighteen.

I hate you . . . I love you.

I can't stand to be near you . . . I miss you.

-Annalise.

*

Hey Reader!

Chapter's Song: "Figure 8" by Ellie Goulding. The song is about a relationship where the girls loves the boy more than he loves her, so she's "chasing his love around a figure 8." I think that's a beautiful representation of this story. I chose this chapter specifically for this song because this is the first chapter that Annalise realizes that things weren't always perfect between them. Also, Ellie's (do fans have a right to call their idols by first names?) has a beautifully haunting voice.

Thanks for reading!

Love Your Favorite Liar