Born To Die

IX: To Paint The Pain Away

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To Paint The Pain Away

Bradley started to piece together everything. The girl he loved, the girl who he saw daily, had faded from his grasp. Gone. Gone like the autumn breeze, never returning once winter's cold, sharp wind hit. He was fine before everything, but hearing the words that left her lips hurt him in every possible way. I was never there, he thought to himself. I'm always never there. The burning passion to cry rose, his eyes watering and his lips trembling.

The rain began its descent to the earth, the sound filling and erasing the silence. It brought a sense of relief, making the muted colors deeper and almost more vivid. Maybe the clarity of the rain was why they both released a breath and opened up. Bradley sat next to her on her bed, both comfortable under the sheets and blankets.

"How long?" Bradley asked, "How long have you. . . kept this to yourself?"

Rose stared at her hands, clutching the sheets that covered her legs.

"A year," she whispered, the rain almost drowning out her words.

A year.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't—"

"Because I couldn't," she didn't shout, but her words overpowered the rain this time, and all the pain she had been carrying seemed to break forth, "I was afraid. I was afraid of what he'd do."

A sob escaped her rose, blush lips, and tears streamed down her blooming cheeks. She covered her face with her hands as if she was ashamed, her cries quiet yet painful.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't be afraid to cry," Bradley told her, "Just cry."

For the first time in a long time, she allowed his arms to secure her in his embrace. She didn't think of the consequences as her walls fell.

"I don't know what to do anymore. Why would something like this happen to me? What did I do wrong?" Rose sighed, burying her face into his chest.

"None of this is your fault. He can't hurt you anymore," Bradley said, anger and hatred blooming in his heart for the person who had done something so horrible to someone so innocent and undeserving.

Rose flinched, coming to the realization of how close she was to Bradley. She held her breath before making eye contact with the said boy. He gently grasped the sides of her face, his fingertips brushing against the skin on the back of her neck.

"Love is not abuse," he said, smiling softly with the hope that he could give her a little comfort in her darkness, "Love isn't what you've described to me. Don't equate love with what happened to you because I promise that you don't deserve that."

Bradley stared into her teary eyes until he could see her finally accept his words. Her eyes looked bloodshot and tired under the warm light, but she seemed more at peace.

"Will you be okay?" Bradley asked, and the look in Rose's eyes told him otherwise, so he decided to stay, "I'll take the living room."

Rose looked like she was going to protest, but then she agreed.

"Goodnight, Bradley," she said quietly.