#ehrptask

November 22nd 2016 1:23am

Trembling libs desperately wrapped themselves around Payton’s stomach, thighs, calves — anywhere she could physically grab to drag her back down to the reality at the foot of her bed. His blood drenched the front of her dress, seeping through the fabric, sticking to her damp pale skin, spatter painting the right side of her face in random array as she gripped her skull in agony on what the next step of action was to take.Her phone slipped through her hands, knocking against her knee as she tried collecting herself enough to think a contact on her phone that could possibility help her in this situation. 

She thought about Louis—a dry laughed crackling out from the back of her throat when she realized he was dead just like the man she had just killed, Philip, his name is — was Philip. She thought of Stan— whom she knew would see her in a completely different light if he knew she took away another human lie. She thought of her father— it seemed like the most logical person to call and yet her fingertips purposefully danced away from his name. Her last resort was Harry— “oh god.” She couldn’t bear the look that would be edged into his features if she called him for help. She guessed— no she knew Harry wouldn’t love her anymore for such a heinous barbaric act preformed. She scraped the idea, fingers unconsciously typing in the number 9-1-1.

Shock overtook Payton’s petite body, anxiety bubbling up in the pit of her stomach climbing up her spine as she began retching. “What have I done?” she whispered, pulling herself toward the bathroom in the hotel room, wobbly legs guiding her to the toilet to throw up. Her body collapsed to the floor, bloody handprints dressing the toilet lid as she lifted it. “What have I done?” she repeated to herself, curling up into a ball on the tiled floor of the bathroom, tucked into a corner, drowning in guilt.

Her windpipe burned with fingernail imprints seared into her irritated skin like half crescent moons. She cautiously inspected the area with her filthy hands, vision blurred as she frantically made her way to the sink to wash off as much of the blood from her body as she could. She scrubbed her skin raw with the bar of soap provided to the room, obsessively feeling as if not an inch of blood was removed from her skin even through it had all been washed away down the drain.

Payton had never been one to defend herself whenever someone laid an unlawful hand on her body. For years she had been abused by the fists of her father for free; she was not about to let someone pay to do the same. When Philip’s hands enclosed around her throat, restricting the airflow to her lungs all she could do was thrash her legs in protest as his weight crushed her body. She remembered hearing a sharp ringing in her ears, a severe pounding against her temples as she suffocated. When you’re drowning, you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out. It is a phenomenon that is called sleep apnea. No matter how much the person is freaking out, the instinct to not let water into your body is predominant. Your body will fight until your head feels like it is on the brink of explosion. Even though Payton felt like she was on the very edge of passing out, she did not allow Philip the satisfaction of stealing her own life from her. She did not inhale.

Her hand reached out to the nightstand on her left, stretching desperately to grab anything to assist her, muscles aching in desperation. The object that was eventually won happened to be a fork. The fork was jabbed into Philip’s neck, piercing the skin and ripping open his jugular vein, spurting blood all over Payton’s face as if he suffered a gun shot to the back of the head. His body jerked for a good minute, quaking against her own trembling frame as his spark dimmed, body completely inert, motionless.The severity of her outburst weighed in on her conscience, tipping her morality scale to a less favorable side. Her past medical trained self jumping into action to attempt to save a person who was already long gone. However, she did not give up in trying to safe the man’s life, not until she had hot salted tears covering the body, diluting the blood that pooled into a silhouette on the floor around the body. After the initial realization of the act, she pushed herself as far away from the lifeless corpse as she could. She pushed her body up against the wall opposite the body, sobbing onto the off white wallpaper in pure anguish. There she laid until she had the audacity to call the police and in essence confess to a murder she did wholeheartedly commit, even if it was a sheer act of self defense.

A gloved hand rested on the back of Payton’s neck as she ducked her head to slip into the back seat of the police car. Her body shivered as her eyes remained glued to the tenth floor of the hotel building. The image of the young man’s body burned into the back of her eyelids, so all she saw when she blinked was the censoring visual. Her knees knocked against each other on the bumpy road to her prison cell, fingernail picking at a spot of dry blood covering her upper thigh as she replayed the night’s events as a marathon in her mind. She could not have been more terrified and alone in that moment. She now questioned her entire character, feeling out of her own body and mind the minute she jammed the fork into Philip’s neck during his paid session.

“Do you want your one phone call now?”

“No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

You need to get done done done at work ’n come over. We just need to slow the motion, don’t get out your way for no one. Long distance I need you, when I see potential I just gotta see it through, if you had a twin I would still choose you. I don’t wanna rush into it if it’s too soon. But I kno-

Stan groaned at the sound blaring from his phone, the alarming waking him up from the nap he so desperately wanted and needed. Rubbing his eyes, the boy clicked on the power button on his iPhone, dismissing the alarm that interrupted him. The brunet wasn’t too happy with this rude awakening, and the reason for the intrusion was even worse. He was going to an interview, one where he was sure that what he said would be held against him, well, what more could be think when he’s put in a room with the very person he despises and despises him right back. If the Charity Fair said anything, it was that he wasn’t in the mood to play nice with someone who he honestly hated being around. Stan was the type of person who had little patience for individuals whose sole purpose and source of happiness was the pain and struggles of others. The Doncaster boy was feeling quite uncomfortable as the thoughts of the kind of questions that would be asked started to run through his head; he was sure his relationship with either Payton or Louis would be brought up, and those two are people he didn’t want to talk about, or even think about right now. After a late night at the set of Supernatural, Stan found himself wishing he was scheduled for another day of shooting, wanting to postpone this whole thing as late as possible. Though when talking to his co-workers, they did tell him about something that intrigued him and his dedication to completing this well task per say: the sooner you do the interview, the faster it’s over. With that mindset, Stan got up and started to get ready, slipping on his black jeans and a white shirt, throwing a flannel over and his sunglasses on his face. “After this shitty interview, we’re going out to eat,” he told himself in the mirror, pointing at the boy in front of him as he smiled.

Following the directions sent to his phone, Stan found himself at the Hamptons club, soon entering the Voulez meeting room. He looked around, said hi to a few people as they greeted him, enjoying the view the club was overlooking. It was similar to a resort one would go to in Mexico, the DR or even Florida. Stan was sent to the room the interview was being held immediately since he left his flat late enough that would deter any extra time in a place he didn’t want to be in. There were a million other things Stan would rather be doing right now, one of them involving alcohol and a local bar, but his day wasn’t going the way he wanted. Looking at the blonde in front of him, Stan sat up straight and gave her his best fake smile, his eyes wandering around the room they were in before focusing on the girl interviewing him. You know you’d rather be here, at least this person wants to talk to you, though I really don’t know why — you’re nothing but a piece of shit, left around for someone else to pick up. Stan trie to shake his thoughts off, tried to plaster on a happy face, and he was starting to dread this interview.

“Hello, and welcome to Voulez. I’m here today with Stan Lucas. Thank you so much for coming in on such short notice. First things first, how are you?”

Stan took a look at the individual, giving her a simple nod to acknowledge her greeting. Earlier in the week he had met with his manager and asked her just what he should do in interviews, not only for this one, but for the few he had set up over the next week. She had told him over and over again that despite how he feels about the interview or the questions being asked, he must have a positive look on his face. Any interview can be used against him in the future, and choosing his words were something he definitely had to pay attention and think. Think before you speak, Stan. And if you’re not sure, just say it. Don’t make a fool of yourself, it’s harder to come back from something shitty than something good. He looked at Cher, licking his bottom lip, “Oh I’m great, a little exhausted, we had a late night at the set so I got home around 4 in the morning. You don’t know how happy I am that this was scheduled later in the day, I definitely would not have been in a good mood if it was earlier,” he said with a smile, before looking at Cher.

“Oh that’s right, Supernatural! I watched the first few episodes in the free time I’ve had,” she started, looking at the camera and then back at Stan, “It’s definitely a hit. Congratulations on making it to Netflix.”

Stan smiled, a somewhat real smile at the compliment he received, “Oh thank you,” he said with a small chuckle, sitting up and rubbing his legs with the palm of his hands. “Yeah we have gotten a lot of reviews from fans, they’re bloody nuts, most have already completed the whole first season and,” he chuckled again, “I have woken up to endless tweets asking me when the second season will be out,” he started to share, “We’re shooting the third episode of the second season right now, and it’s definitely been nothing but fun and endless amounts of action. Please do give me your thoughts once you’re done with the season, I love hearing back on what people think,” he admitted, crossing his arms as he saw her nod her head in agreement, and in a way that shows she was listening to what he was saying. Stan didn’t get too much reviews or comments from his friends about the show and the season, so hearing anything from anyone who’s in his day to day life was definitely a small light getting added to the end of the tunnel.

“So Stan, let’s get right to it. I feel like people see themselves one way and other people see them another. Have you ever felt that? Like, you probably have a lot of words you would use to describe yourself, but how would you say other people view you?”

Stan took a deep breath, raising an eyebrow, “Oh we’re getting right into it,” he said with a short laugh, before taking a breath and looking up at the ceiling, thinking about her words and trying to take them in. “Well, I definitely do think that people - upon first meeting me and then getting to know me - they have two distinct impressions on who I am. I have.. there’s a…” he stopped himself, really wanting to see how he can answer this question without being too in depth on his personal life. That was something he really didn’t want out in the open right now. Sure there was Twitter and Instagram that was going to out certain aspects of his life — the fact that he was Louis’ childhood friend was also going to always be there in his biography, but how did other people view him. “I think that people, when they first meet anyone they’re very cautious and hesitant in being open and just trying to understand who they are and what they’re about. I’m sure the same could be sad for me. I mean, I’m not necessarily the brightest or the smartest person here, and I do act a little.. well childish in regards to certain situations, but who doesn’t. After getting to know who I am and what I’m about, I feel like people get more understanding and less judgemental of the little things I do like take my shoes off at the front of the house or flat and how - regardless of who I’m with - I always like to pay for things, as if treating them to whatever it is we’re having that day. Stan didn’t believe a word he was saying, because he knew that no matter what he was always looked at the same way, especially with the people he was surrounded by. No matter what, he felt like he was going to be that child who always yells with things get bad, who makes a scene, and apparently does the wrong thing at the right time. He hasn’t spoken to Louis since being kicked out, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could speak to Louis again. There was something about the way that things between them have been since Stan had told him about the cancer that made Stan not want to be around him, for the sake of Louis. From experience, Stan knew that when he held grudges he gets angry and says the wrong thing, but maybe Louis just didn’t need someone like Stan in his life, and being away was just going to be good for his old roommate and neighbour. Stan was brought back to reality when Cher asked him:

“Can you explain what you mean by the first impression? Why do you think people have that first impression of you?”

Stan looked at the girl and shrugged, “How else do you want me to explain the first impression I feel people get upon meeting me? It’s simple, I act like a twat and get labelled as a moron, which doesn’t affect me. People can call me what they want, because whoever stays past the crazy, and whoever matches my crazy then they get the real Stan,” he stated, referencing Deadpool once again. He laughed a little to himself at the quote, not even sure why he would mention that since there was nothing crazy about him. He was nothing more than ordinary, nothing special about him. He was sure that he was replaceable, and by the way his friends, his family was acting towards him, it only re-affirmed the nasty thoughts circulating his mind. There wasn’t even anyone to talk to, when thinking of this topic, because he was sure that if he brought it up, he would just be considered an inconsiderate, self-centred and absorbed individual. It bothers Stan a little how when certain things happen, there couldn’t be more than one problem going on. He found himself wondering if things would have been different if he didn’t show up to the Hamptons, if he decided to skip it and instead more to California or even back to London. He found himself concerned with how his thoughts wandered to situations that related back to the cancer scare he had earlier in the month, how he managed to keep it hidden from tabloids, from people, from his mum for over two months, not even telling anyone but Louis and Payton that there was no reason to worry anymore. What if he had cancer though? Would people treat him differently? Of course they would, he was facing one of the toughest diseases to beat, one of the toughest diseases to overcome, and the fact that he never once thought about having someone by his side at chemotherapy. He went to all the endless appointments and meetings with doctors and technicians alone, not wanting to be a further burden to anyone he’s around, not wanting to put yet another weight of to do lists onto people. It probably didn’t matter anyway, and if Stan did end up getting the scare again, he would — without a doubt — take the same actions he did the first time around.

“Makes sense I guess, it was a stupid question,” Cher admitted as she smiled at Stan and nodded her head, “So Stan, do you listen to a lot of music? We have quite a few big name musicians passing through the Hamptons these days and it has me thinking. What would you say is the theme song that perfectly describes your life?”

Stan nodded his head, a small smirk forming in his lips as Cher muttered how it was a stupid question for her to ask. He honestly didn’t like her, he didn’t like how she placed herself on a pedestal as if she’s someone that was better than the rest of them. If anything she was the worst out of the group, especially since she was the one who went around placing rumours on people left and right. He honestly didn’t like the whole tabloid aspect of being famous, and at times he wished he stayed in Doncaster and away from all of this drama that he had gotten into over the years. Sure there were benefits to all of this, having had his relationship with Payton and then finding his old friend from university, but almost 80% of this trip had become something he despised and found himself regretting on a daily basis. “What would be the theme song of my life? Well it depends, do you want old school or new school?” He asked, trying to make a slight joke and then taking a deep breath, holding a finger as he took his phone out, humming a little made up song as he took out his music, holding it up for the camera to see, “I have to look at my phone, there’s too many songs that I would repeat on different days.” He looked back up at Cher, nodding his head, “Honestly right now, Chainsaws by Nick Jonas is something that definitely describes my life,” he muttered with a shrug.

Stan saw the smirk on Cher’s face, as if she knew something he didn’t know about. He honestly wasn’t sure why she was giving him that look that confused him, “That’s an interesting choice. Why did you pick that song? Anything in particular going on that makes you relate to that?”

Stan furrowed his eyebrows and then shrugged, “Who wouldn’t relate to the Nick Jonas?” He said, before huffing as he sang the lyrics under his breath: When I get home, TV on drink in my glass, better make it strong. Some nights wanna fill this space, a tight dress and a pretty face. He looked back at Cher and coughed a little, clearing his throat in a way. “Uhm honestly? I don’t know how I can say this without bluntly putting everything out there,” he admitted, locking his phone as she song continued to run through his head. “I-the last few months haven’t been the greatest for me. I resented a lot of people, blamed a lot of others and held others accountable for things they shouldn’t have been held accountable for. I uh, actually pushed some people away, from family to friends and this song it well, it just brings everything to light. I made my mistakes, and I really can’t say anything to make it better or even start to lower the effect of the problems that were caused,” he shrugged, trying to stay as vague as possible. He saw the pout form on Cher’s lips, as if trying to encourage him to go into more detail and rolled his eyes. He honestly just wasn’t sure why couldn’t just make up some story, and he was confused as to why he even thought of this song. The lyrics, they were too related to what was going on with Payton and how he was starting to feel about her. Now that he admitted - to himself - that he did have feelings for the girl, that he did in fact fall in love with her, and that it wasn’t just puppy love, he realized what he had lost, he realized what he’s going to forever be missing out on. Stan despised himself for the words that he spoke out in anger, and not being able to take them back was the only thing that kept him from really moving on, or truly putting all of his effort into getting her back. He cleared his throat as he sat up, sniffing and looking at Cher, “I guess the fact that it’s catchy and it relates back to my last relationship and how I feel about the girl and everything, well I guess it’s just great timing.”

“Your last relationship?” Cher asked, earning a nod from Stan, “Is this you saying that the theme song of your life is related to a girl?” Stan shrugged his shoulders, “I’m just saying that right now, the song that describes who I am right now is ironically a song about my feelings for someone.” The boy looked at Cher, giving her a forced smile as she rolled her eyes, “Okay then, diving into something a teensy bit more personal. How would you describe your relationship with your family?”

Stan’s body grew rigid as the question rang through his ear. He hasn’t talked to anyone about his family, at least, no one in the past few months. Was he supposed to lie and talk about a great relationship with his family or should he tell the truth. He wasn’t exactly sure, though he knew that if he lied, someone was going to come up to him wondering what he was going on about. At the same time, Stan was sure that no one would actually watch this interview, at least no one in his immediate circle would. A year ago Stan would have said that this relationship with his family, both blood and in everything but was good, it was great and healthy and striving, though now it seemed like that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t sure why Louis wasn’t talking to him, he wasn’t sure why he was getting tweets and chats with Harry and Payton, “It’s.. as a relationship with a family would be,” he started, deciding in lying about what was happening. “My mum’s engaged, I think the bloke is absolutely great for her, makes her happy, shows her attention, treats her right.” Despite the fact that the was lying on his immediate relationship with his mum, all the words he said was true, “She’s an amazing woman, and her food, I honestly want to go home just so I can have her lasagne,” he said with a chuckle, before taking a breath and looking down at his hands, clasping them together. “My sister’s out travelling the world, doesn’t have much time to talk to me unfortunately. I see her posts on Instagram and Facebook though, she’s definitely having a good time. Deciding to take a year off before starting graduate school was a massive decision for her, but I’m glad she did so. She’ll learn a lot on the road,” he finished, looking at his thumb and then at Cher, his attention directed to the corner of the room. He hadn’t talked to his mum or his sister for almost four months now, and it bothered him. After talking to them every day for years, not being able to keep in touch with them pained him. He gulped and then looked at Cher, smiling at her, “But that’s really all there is to my family,” he started before Cher could speak, “No dad, he’s dead.” He said shortly, not wanting to bring the topic of his father.

Cher gave Stan a knowing smile, before looking at the index cards in her hand. Stan made a mental note to ask her about this, but was soon distracted by her next question. “There’s a number of things we do for the people we love when we think they’re in danger. You know, I’m not saying you’re going to catch a grenade for them — Hey, you might, you never know — but there are certain acts of bravery, you know? Pushing someone out of the way of a car, taking a bullet for someone, getting into a fight over someone, just to name a few scenarios. Would you say you did something to protect another person recently? I want to hear everything about it, and spare no details.”

Suddenly, Stan was put into a mood. He despised having to get personal, especially when it means that he has to compromise himself, his integrity and his personality for the sake of Cher and Voulez getting some dirt from the donkey’s mouth - as the saying goes. He took in her question, laughing a little to himself at the irony of it and shook his head, “Unfortunately, I wasn’t lucky enough to do anything recently, at least, not physically.” He started, wondering if he should take the question and turn it into something different, into something that would make him look stupid, but at least it would save him from having to own up to not being there for someone when he needed it. He wasn’t there for Louis, he knew he wasn’t. He shouldn’t have let him go out alone, he shouldn’t have left him alone in the first place. The fact that Stan actually thought he would be okay, and had gone off to bed because of the long day; the fact that Stan didn’t - even in his drunken state - put his emotionally abused friend first, it bothered him. He should have spent the night with him, despite what Louis wanted. He should have been there at the scene of the crime, to jump in front of the bullet and to take in the shot instead of having Louis go through it alone, instead of having Louis hate himself and blame himself for what had happened. He should have been there for Payton too, the frantic look on her face when he found her, the way she brokenly commented on the way he found out, he should have pulled her into a hug, he should have tried harder to comfort her, to keep her around him and close by. He was failure as a friend, and it was a wonder people stayed as long as they did. It was a wonder they didn’t drop him as soon as they realized what kind of person he was. “I did save Noah from going home with a girl the other day, she was absolutely droning,” he started, chuckling at the memory. “It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, but she was one of those try hard girls. You know, the girls at the club that intentionally pull their shirts down when they talk to you so that you can see down their shirt?” He continued, biting his bottom lip, “Oh that was an interesting night, he did end up going home with someone, the same couldn’t be said for me unfortunately, he’s a terrible wingman.” The boy couldn’t answer the question honestly, especially because he was supposed to be the person who was there, he was supposed to be the boy who in a heart beat would protect. He definitely wasn’t, and reality was something that Stan, on occasion was glad for. Despite his tendency to want to be there, he never truly followed through with it, and it caused less heartache, less guilt and less burden on his end of the bargain. He couldn’t be held accountable for anyone who is there for him, for anyone who would drop something in order to save him. Time after time, years after years, Stan never did think that he was worthy enough to be taken a bullet for. If anything, he was the person people should use to block a bullet. Maybe this was a negative way of thinking, but he frankly held no care for that; nothing in him told him that he shouldn’t feel this way. “I mean if worst comes to worst, and it’s a matter of life and death I’ll jump in if I truly are about the person. They would have to do their share though, in being there for me despite me not being caring or understanding…” He trailed, not wanting to finish the sentence. The brunette was the worst kind of friend, the antagonist to everyone’s story; he found himself wanting to be the antagonist, wanting to be the person that never gets what they want, because nine times out of ten, it meant that he was going to get hurt, that he was setting himself up for failure.

Cher rolled her eyes at his extremely irrelevant answer, causing Stan to smirk as he got to her. He never did find any sympathy or connection to people whose soul purpose is to cause the torment and downfall of others, and with no offence, he’d rather see Cher having her own failure and watch others make fun and bully her about it than tell her anything that she could use against him. That’s rich coming from a guy who can’t remember anything, his mum had told him in their most recent conversation, making Stan grimace at the thought of how that conversation went. He just gulped away the memory, keeping on his brave face as he looked at the girl again, trying to decipher whether it was a good idea to continue speaking or not. When she moved on, he let out a breath he didn’t know he held. “Okay then, that doesn’t help at all. Is there someone you wouldn’t protect under any circumstances? What kind of personality trait or aspect to a person’s character do you find indefensible?”

Stan knew he could answer this one, it was vague but he instantly had to speak. He found himself wanting to say this out loud, as if keeping it in, “Anyone who’s honest, anyone who doesn’t lie to me, doesn’t try to put me down, just.. supports me in any way they can, even if I’m wrong. I’m the kind of person who’d rather fail trying than give up without even glancing at the obstacle.” Stan on many occasions surrounded himself with people who he knew wouldn’t stay with him in the long run. He was broken - in both metaphorical terms and literal ones. There were significant events in his life that not only lead him where he is, but forced him to change, forced him to become a different person. He find himself in his seat, sitting up a little as he tried to think of what to say, how to say it and how to make sure it was said properly, carefully, not wanting to out anyone on public TV. “Someone I wouldn’t protect would be someone who does the exact opposite of who I want in my life. I mean, if someone’s way too into himself, if someone is way too involved in themselves, I really want nothing to do with them. I like to think that I’m this person that no matter what will help someone in need, but that’s only if like, I don’t totally hate them,” he ended, shrugging his shoulders at the look Cher gave him. “That’s all for that one,” he simply stated.

“Okay, well you get boring sometimes did you know that?” Stan shrugged his shoulders, looking at the girl with no hint of hurt from her words. “Anyway, you’re here right now and obviously we think you’re hot enough to fill our airtime. I mean, I don’t see it personally, you’re as attractive as a whale, but someone somewhere finds you worth it. What would you say is your best feature? Your eyes? Your hair? I mean, what would you say stands out the most about you, looks wise? You know,, what attracts others to you? Your laugh maybe? Your smile?”

Stan took a deep breath as he heard the girls’ question, rolling his eyes as she commented on why she was unsure he was chosen, biting his tongue from speaking out. He could have said that she didn’t have the face for TV, or that her personality is as shitty as her looks, but instead, he kept back, wanting to stay on the safe side of things with her. She seemed to have authority over him, she knew things, and he wasn’t even sure how she knew them. So instead, he kept his comments in his head, knowing that they could backfire on him. What would you say is your best feature? The question rang in his mind, they pondering on it for a few minutes before sitting up and lacing his fingers together. “I think it’s.. I think it’s the eyes,” he started, closing them slowly and then re-opening them. “I know when I meet people in the streets, they always compliment my eyes, telling me that they’re brown, but not the ugly brown. In the light, they have this.. glow to them, well according to the people.” He remembered one night when he was laying in bed with Payton, his mind taking him to the moment, the boy missing her company and warmth now more than ever. They were just talking one night, Stan’s hand mindlessly running along her spine, it being his favourite thing to do about her. He couldn’t remember what the comment was -though he was sure it was a joke she tried to make - but it made him laugh, really loudly, it was quite scary, especially since he had never made that sound before. But what Payton said afterwards might have been the reason he allowed himself - unwillingly - to fall for her. I love making you laugh, or smile, she had told him as she sat up, her chin going on his chest as she spoke. Like my jokes aren’t even that funny but.. you just laugh. Stan could have said his laugh was the best feature, but that was Payton’s thing, she was the one who loved to make him laugh, or smile, or even blush. His eyes were generic, normal brown eyes, there was nothing special about them, but making up that little fib about what was told to him on many occasions kept the memory to himself. If it’s one thing he hated, especially now that they’re not together, is the moments he shared with Payton that no one knew about. He cherished those moments, and they were things he looked back on when he needed a small pick me up. Sure they’ve been hanging out, talking again, but what she had told him when he visited, how it took her landing in the hospital for him to notice her, or rather, talk to her, it definitely did bother him. Was he really not there for her? He remembered asking her a few times to eat, noticing how she was barely eating around him, but she always brushed it off, and he didn’t want to push her into thinking he thought she was going through something when maybe it was him imagining the situation. Maybe he could have tried harder. Maybe when he saw her at the Hamptons he shouldn’t have been rude and put off. Maybe, just maybe, he could have approached everything that’s happened the past few months differently. But what happened, happened, and he couldn’t exactly change that. “I think it’s the eyes,” he concluded with a simple nod of his head, waiting for the next question.

Cher nodded her head, agreeing with him, “I see it, I myself love brown eyes. Sure they’re common but.. they’re great on some guys, one of them just happens to be you,” Stan let out a laugh, shaking his head, “Is that a compliment? Wow, I got a compliment from Cher. What time is it? I need to record this.” He teased, earning a simple buzz off from the girl. “Okay, so you’ve come this far in life and you’re in one piece. Do you think you’ve achieved many of the goals you’ve set out for yourself?”

Stan groaned at the question, shaking his head a few times. Goals? Stan has stopped putting goals for himself since he never went through with them. He was 24, single, struggling to get a proper and steady job and lost some people he truly cared about. What kind of life was that. Without Noah, he was sure that he would have left the Hamptons and not look back. He really was lonely, and sure he was starting to get Payton back on his side, and it was his fault Louis kicked him out of his place, but the fact that Louis wasn’t even acknowledging him anymore bothered him, especially since he wasn’t sure why. He has tried to text him, but it was as if he was blocked or his messages weren’t going through, and going to see him isn’t even an option. But, from the run in they had, he was sure going out to see Louis wasn’t a good idea. “I have set a few goals, and I have accomplished some,” he stated with a shrug, knowing he didn’t accomplish any of them. “I mean some of them I didn’t accomplish in the time I set myself, but I guess they weren’t smartly done,” he admitted, before taking a breath. Stan actually hated himself at times for the goals he didn’t get to accomplish, for the goals he gave up on, for the bucket list that had almost nothing crossed out. At times, he did think of himself as a failure, and maybe that’s why his dad walked out on him. Maybe because he gave himself to the studies he put himself through, because he didn’t participate in too many sports except rugby, he was a disappointment. He found himself missing his dad, but at the same time despising him for not being around, for not seeing him accomplish all that he did through high school. “I have though put some new goals for me to accomplish, so hopefully I get those done.” He finished with a nod of his head.

“So, what would you say is your ultimate goal? Have you already started paving your way towards it? Do you think you’re holding yourself back in any way?”

The boy was surprised at the question; he was never asked this, never even stood a few mere minutes to figure out if what he can use as an ultimate goal. “My ultimate goal?” he repeated, his thoughts coming out as he asked himself the question, trying to figure out if there’s an answer to that. “Honestly, as cheesy as it is, my ultimate goal is to have a family that makes me proud, in more ways than one.  I want to have a family that’s proud of me, a wife that supports me and I her, kids that know I love them, that I’m not leaving, no matter what,” he continued. Stan grew up loved, he grew up in a  family that continuously supported his every decision. But he also grew up without a father. He didn’t see what love can do, how love can change a person. He only saw what marriage will do and how it will end in heartbreak, how one person is always more invested than the other. It got him thinking about his latest relationship. Was he doing that to Payton? Was he making her feel like she was more invested than he was? He was sure he was. On a constant basis he made it about him, he talked about his own problems and neglected hers. He failed to see that she needed support, that she needed comfort and that she needed his help. He failed to see that the girl he woke up to on many mornings was a girl he would later want to spend his life with, that she was a girl he was going to fall for. His mind then turned to Louis, and how lately they just weren’t the same, they weren’t friends, they weren’t brothers they were just, there. He couldn’t believe that the only person who had chosen him had left him. He couldn’t believe that the person who decided to be at his side, that the person who he wanted to be at his side through all the milestones decided he just wasn’t worth the effort. Stan wasn’t making Payton proud. He wasn’t making Louis proud. His mum wasn’t even proud of him, how could he say he was achieving his goal? “I think I’m holding myself back. Everyone’s got this part in them that tells them they aren’t worth it, that they aren’t special or that they don’t deserve to be happy.” And at times. Stan would let that part of him win. He didn’t want to continue on in this subject because he knew he wouldn’t be able to finish the interview. Instead, he looked at Cher pleadingly, hoping she would move on.

“Okay then,” Cher stated, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why he was glancing at her weirdly. “Now for the big question. Have you ever been in love? What do you think it feels like? Is it true when they say you feel like you’re floating?”

Stan took a deep breath as he heard the four letter word he didn’t usually address to anyone but his family. Though, a few weeks prior, he did slip up and say it when talking to Payton, when mentioning something she does that truly did make him fall for her deeper. He wasn’t sure if he fell in love per-say, but he did believe that if they lasted, or if he felt like they were a possibility, that he would let himself fall for her in that way, that he would be intimate in his feelings with her, and not just his actions. He wasn’t jus pretending when it came to Payton though, he was constantly pushing himself to be better for her, knowing that if the future ever came into question, he wanted to be able to provide for her. “I don’t think I’ve been in love no,” he started, adjusting his posture and sitting up straighter, “But I do think that I was close to being in love, or rather, that I cared about someone so much that falling in love wasn’t all that scary, just.. hard.” He continued, taking a deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. “I think it’s more.. I think it’s more like feeling at home, or at peace. I love my mum, and I know that when I go home, smell her cooking, or just smell home, I’m loved, I’m safe, and I’m protected. I remember going into Jay’s home and feeling the exact same thing, you know, the feeling of acceptance for who you are, quirks and all,” he stated, smirking a little. “I think being in love is tough, there’s tons of expectations set on you on how to act, how to treat her, how you’re supposed to always post pictures of her, and sure, I cared about a girl so much I thought I was in love with her, but it was only after we were done that I realized my feelings were more than just caring. I think love is a need to have someone, it’s.. craving someone that without their touch, without their scent, you can’t function. It’s the moment when you give your hoodie back just because it stopped smelling like her,” he continued, getting distracted by where his thought were taking him. He swore that sometimes, he could smell Payton’s fresh smell on his pillows, despite the fact that she had never been to his place, or rather, on his bed since their fall out. He would be at a restaurant, and he didn’t know how but he felt her presence, felt her in the room, somewhere, just not with him. He knew better than to let himself think these thoughts, and he knew better than to stay hung up on the girl that thought of him as a friend. He never felt as rejected as he did when he visited her at the hospital, when he kissed her. Granted, he didn’t allow her the chance to reciprocate, but he knew she wasn’t into it. He knew - in that instance - that she had moved on, that he lost his chance with her, that well, despite trying, he really didn’t succeed. It upset him, it truly did, but he also thought that she deserved better. He thought that there was someone else out there, someone more fit for her, someone who can understand her better than he ever did. He was sure he wasn’t enough, that he would never be enough.

Cher cleared her throat, trying to get Stan’s attention. “Christ he keeps zoning out it’s making this longer than it should be,” she muttered, before looking at the sheet of questions in front of her. “Have you ever had a broken heart? Have you ever broken someone else’s heart?”

Stan looked back at the girl sheepishly, his cheeks red as he realized he zoned out again. He truly didn’t mean to, it was just that he got so lost in his thoughts. He nodded his head at her questions, “I have had a broken heart, and I did in fact break someone else’s. It’s the worst though, knowing you did that to a person, broke their trust, shattered their hopes and dreams.” He still remembered how Payton looked when she spoke the sentence that haunted his mind day and night. How her eyes were filled with distrust, but honesty, all at once. What happened to the boy I fell in love with? That’s when he knew he lost her, that’s when he knew that there was nothing he could do that would change her thoughts, that no illness, no sickness, no accident would bring her back to him. Hearing those words shattered his own heart, but the fact she said them, the fact that she said that four letter word he was afraid off, well, it broke his confidence. Sure he was acting like a dick towards her, but in a way he was testing himself, trying to see if he really wanted this girl around. How she acted towards him, how she treated him, he was.. so surprised she had done so. He was so surprised he had gotten the balls to act negatively towards the girl he wanted, he craved. But, when that sentence was spoken, all hopes of getting her back was shattered. If it’s one thing Stan despised, it was letting someone in only to have them leave in the end. If they leave due to work, or family, he understood, because it wasn’t in their ability to change the course of life. But when you let someone in, when you let yourself fall for someone who you think would stay despite all that happens, and they walk out of your life, they treat you differently, talk to you differently, even think about you and things that concern you differently, well it wasn’t good for Stan to deal with. He had gotten used to his dad’s anger as a kid - because the man would come back, regardless of how bad he was beat up, and try to talk to him, it caused Stan to let him in. When he disappeared, when he died in that hotel room, well it made Stan want to hide away, it made the boy want to corner away and keep everyone out. But there was still Louis, and afterwards, he let Noah in, and finally, Payton. Payton was hard, he admitted things to her that took years for him to admit to Noah and Louis. Louis has been hard on him. As they grew up, they talked about how nothing would ever cause them to fall apart, that no argument, no girl, no war would cause them to pull away from each other, to ban each other from their lives. It seemed that something did happen, and Stan felt oddly weird about the fact that him talking ill about someone caused such a reaction. Stan really was confused as to why the two weren’t friends, but overtime, he stopped trying to bring it up, because it just wasn’t going to happen, the conversation was not going to end well and Stan knew it. Instead, he just hated on himself for letting him in initially, for letting them both in, knowing that if he didn’t his life would be much different, and the he wouldn’t have to worry about needing to be a certain person in order to have people in his life. He grew up being told that true friends will hang on, regardless of what’s going on, and stick by you, keep you grounded, but Stan felt like he was underground, that he was buried alive with no one to go to. He felt himself start to tear up, taking a breath and laughing a little, “Anything less morbid to talk about?”

“Yes there is,” Cher started, “Though it seems like we’re going back and forth,” she admitted. Is there anyone you have your eye on right now? Describe them to us. We’ll forgive you if you don’t want to give any names, but we’d love to know what they’re like and why they’ve caught your attention.”

“I was waiting for this question,” Stan admitted, “I mean, what kind of interview would it be if you didn’t ask me who I liked right?” He asked teasingly, trying to lighten the tone and pull his thoughts away from the dark place they were going. “Uhm, honestly, I don’t think I have anyone on my eye right now. Well I do, but I don’t think that’s going anywhere. I mean, she’s beautiful, and not just physically. Mentally she’s got this way of thinking that surprises me. She knows a lot, knows a lot about things that most people would find odd, but I find fascinating. She’s got, her heart, it’s one of the greatest I’ve seen yet. She’s loving, forgiving, caring, nurturing. She always tries to make others feel good, even if she’s feeling poorly herself. I mean, she would come home from work and ask me how my day was, even though she had the more exciting days. She puts others before herself, she worries about people when she should worry about herself. She would risk her life for someone she had just met, just because she’s that kind of person. You know, it’s not true what they say about where you come from shaping your personality. This.. this gorgeous girl came from a harsh background, and she needed the getaway from reality when it came to them. I’m not sure it’s because of who she knew, but she really didn’t grow up the way society said she should.” To Stan, Payton wasn’t just another girl, she was the girl who he wouldn’t be able to live without anymore. He was currently living without her in his life the way she was and he was failing at everything. He wasn’t concentrating, he hadn’t been sleeping and he was sure that he wasn’t even trying anymore when it came to anything. The words I love you wouldn’t even begin to describe why he loves the girl, because it wasn’t just love, it was safety, it was home. She truly made his life feel complete. She was that half that he’d been looking for, the half they talk about in the movies. If he could tell her anything, it would be that he loved the way he knew she’ll never give up on him. “I love her eyes, they’ve got this glow to them that makes me feel wanted. I love how we would cuddle, watching Netflix, and even if she had the show memorized, I would be more focused on listening to her than to the movie. “ Stan knew he was rambling, and he found himself thinking about the time he had told Payton that he didn’t like her rambling, but when they say you don’t know what you love until it’s gone, well it’s true. Stan missed having the girl ramble to him at night as they laid in bed, tangled up in the sheets. He missed conversing with her about daily routines, knowing that although their days weren’t exciting, they still wanted to share with each other. Stan missed the girl telling him random facts, or see her get excited over a movie, or a show, or anything in general. There were a handful of shows  and movies that he started watching just for her, Orange is the New Black - because she always talked about it; Grey’s Anatomy - so he can have some kind of idea of what she was doing; The Walking Dead - also because she talked about it. He even watched the Marvel movies, and tried to grasp the different story lines that were being revealed to him. He remembered one time that he was told him and Payton were cute, the boy telling them, she’s Spiderman and I’m Lois Lane. She teased him for that, explaining to him that Lois Lane was with Superman and Mary Jane was with Spiderman, but he didn’t want to admit he was wrong, instead teasing her and shaking his head, Nope you actually suck. “She’s great, the girl I have my eye on, but that isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so,” he admitted, looking at the girl knowingly.

“Well, I’m sure whoever she is, she must be lucky,” she turned to the camera and shrugged, “I mean he must really like you. Anyway, let’s try to embarrass you and get you feeling awkward. Have you ever faked an orgasm, or faked liking someone just to make someone else jealous?”

“Yeah she doesn’t know anything though, so if she watches this then she’s definitely going to know who she is, but I really don’t think she’s going to watch,” he admitted with a laugh, before taking a deep breath at the question, laughing a little as he thought about an answer. “Make me feel awkward? Oh you don’t even know me, now do you? I don’t get embarrassed easy.” He lied, just like he always did in situations like this. Stan was a firm believer in not letting others know your business, not letting others know what it is that makes you question little things, that make you blush, or make you feel nervous. He also believed that no one should know things like tickle spots and turn on spots, but those were also down the drain, especially since he let himself open up to someone who he was n’t even sure was going to be with in the future. Stan wasn’t sure who he could have a future with anymore, especially because he was scared to open up to people, especially since whoever he let in disappeared. He was confused, trying to get his thoughts back on track in order to answer the question. “Well actually, in grade school, about the tenth grade, and there was this girl I really liked. So I asked one of my mates to flirt with me to see if she’ll get jealous. Now when I told her later on, on like the fifth or sixth date that I asked the other girl to help make her jealous… well let’s just say I know why they call it the cat claws,” he smirked. Ever since then, him and the girl dated for a while, quite a few years until she broke up with him to leave the country with her dad. “But to answer your question, yes I have done it before, the faked liking someone. Faking an orgasm? I don’t think so. I’ve soberly slept with a handle of girls, and even if I don’t get off right away, I always do get off,” he stated with a nod to his head. Sometimes, he was sure others faked orgasms when it came to him, and though it should bother him, he really didn’t care. It only mattered if it was with someone he truly cared about, if it was a significant other. But when he was drunk, when he was in that mood, he really just needed to finish and leave. It was a system for him, fuck, climax, get dressed, and leave all before the girl wakes up and tries to make him stay. It was a system that worked, got him through university and was soon going to get him through the next few years of his life. He wasn’t about to change that.

“Well, you truly are interesting Lucas, who knew?” He asked, earning an eye roll from the boy being interviewed. “So Stan, I’m curious, do you have any cool scars?” Stan nodded his head, then tilted it, wondering if his scars will cool or just stupid. “Where are they? How did you get them?” She asked.

Stan took a deep breath, pulling his shirt up to show a scar that was by his kidney, “I got this when I was about 16. I was just learning how to board, you know, uhm, skateboard I think they call it. And I fell,” he started, reliving the story he told many times over throughout his college years. Changing in front of others, going swimming, spending time out in the sun while washing his car. Over the years, he realized that the skateboarding story was the easiest way to keep the story consistent. He found himself saying the lie a few times to his family and to Louis’ so that he doesn’t get told about. In reality, the massive scar on his side was from his dad, an accident with his dad that he was surprised he made it out from. He spent a few days in pain after the incident; ignoring everyone else, pushing everyone away. That was Stan’s thing, pushing people away when things got tough. He hated confrontation, but he also loathed being put in a position where he had to be responsible for things. His dad always made him feel like he wasn’t enough, that he wasn’t ever going to amount to anything, and that eventually, everyone he knows, everyone he befriends will leave him. His dad did speak the truth, especially since right now, everyone was gone. Other than Noah, Stan knew he was alone, that he was lonely. But he wasn’t allowed to be lonely. His dad consistently told him that feeling lonely was one step closer to becoming weak. He never let anyone know how lonely he was, how broken he was. There’s a ton about Stan that no one knew about, no family, no friends. There were parts of Stan that Stan himself wished he didn’t know about, and other parts that he was clueless about, they were just there, they just happened, they just took over. Stan was never allowed to feel pain; whenever he would even get close to letting himself feel the pain, whenever he would try to speak to someone about his feelings, he was shut down, he even felt as if he was not going to be heard. It was just like how whenever he tried to say something he was feeling, someone would tell him that it didn’t matter, that he doesn’t have any entitlement to feeling any sort of way but wrong. 

The sixteen year old ran towards the kitchen in shock, having been woken up from the nap he had been looking forward to for the past week since he had been overwhelmed with not only work, but also his courses, exams, spending time with his own friends and everything else he had to take care off. He needed this half an hour nap, but, the second he heard the crash of the plate, the plate that he knew his mum was so keen to bring out with guests were coming over. Stan looked at the man with horror, shaking his head furiously, “You can’t keep doing this, she loves this set you can’t keep breaking it,” he stated angrily with a broken tone.

He really didn’t want his mum to come home to this mess, so he instantly moved to clean up the shattered china. Leaning down as he grabbed the pieces, putting them on the side so his sister doesn’t step on anything, Stan felt the pain in his stomach from the blow. “Stanley you’ve really got to stop being such a mummy’s boy,” the older voice stated as he towered over the boy, looking at him with dark and hooded eyes. “You’re a little shit, you know that? Always a fuckin’ child. You were never my son,” his father spat, looking at the son that resembled him who was on the ground. “Never going to amount to anything.” Stan heard the words, the words that he didn’t only hear at school but now at home as well. It was like he could never get away from all the comments. He knew where this was coming from, he knew that his father was getting enraged from Stan doing what his mum wanted. He knew that his father was getting furious with Stan hanging out with a guy, and well most of the time behind closed doors.

Stan started to stand up but ended up feeling the force against his body. It wasn’t just hands, but it was the feet, it was the shoes and dreadfully, it was the belt. There was no holding the man back once he started, and on many occasions, it ended up with Stan wearing long clothes and sweaters, even in the middle of summer — he remembered one time being questioned because of his attire, and he continued onto say, “I feel extremely sick and cold, hence the sweater.” He opened his mouth to speak up, to try to get his dad off of him but ended up getting slapped again, “Don’t you think you’ve done enough talking?” He heard the indignant voice whispered as he leaned down, an evil smirk evident on his face

Stan started to stand up but ended up feeling the force against his body. It wasn’t just hands, but it was the feet, it was the shoes and dreadfully, it was the belt. There was no holding the man back once he started, and on many occasions, it ended up with Stan wearing long clothes and sweaters, even in the middle of summer — he remembered one time being questioned because of his attire, and he continued onto say, “I feel extremely sick and cold, hence the sweater.” He opened his mouth to speak up, to try to get his dad off of him but ended up getting slapped again, “Don’t you think you’ve done enough talking?” He heard the indignant voice whispered as he leaned down, an evil smirk evident on his face, as Stan held his side, unable to move from the pain he was undergoing.

“I mean it’s a cool scar, got six or seven stitches, was in pain for a long time, but the morphine was totally worth it.” He started to look at his arms, “I’ve got a few others, from that same fall, but they weren’t as big as this one is, and they’re pretty much gone now.”

Cher looked at the boy with a laugh, “You fell while you were skateboarding?” she asked, smirking, “So do you know how to board?” She continued, Stan nodded, “Now I do yes, but I like surfing more.” Cher stood up a little, “So have you ever faked a story about a scar or exaggerated the story just a bit?”

“Well I mean, as a kid I did yes,” Stan started, confused with the question. He wasn’t sure if it was an actual question, or if the girl was asking questions just to get to him. “I mean my mum would ask me things like how I got something - I’d just lie,” he shrugged. Stan was faking the story through his life. His entire life was fake. Barely anyone knew how fake Stan was at times. He faked his happiness, he faked him being ‘ok’. He couldn’t not fake it; who would be there for him if they found out how broken he was, how much he hated himself, and resented himself for his life. He resented everything about his life, resented how he treated others, but nothing will change when it comes to Stan, nothing will change when it comes to how he treats himself, how he thinks of himself. People expected a certain attitude when it came to Stan, he was supposed to be the kind of person who was always there for someone else, but not ever need to have someone who was there for him. The last time Stan broke, the last time he needed someone to ask him what’s wrong, or to genuinely want him to open up, it ended in him using the girl he ended up loving leaving him, eventually moving on from him. “But I still think that if someone didn’t exaggerate a story, then they’re lying about their entire life in general.

“Would you say you have any emotional or mental scars?”

Stan started to realize that the girl was getting restless, and he was hoping that the interview would end, that he didn’t have to stay here any longer. He himself was starting to feel restless; he hated interviews, he hated the fact that he himself wanted nothing more than to leave, than to go home and spend time alone, or with the dog he had befriended. Stan became good at pretending. Eventually, he became so good that after a while the lines blurred between truth and fiction. And sometimes, when he did a really good job of pretending, he even fooled myself. Lately, those sometimes have become often, and it was day after day that Stan felt unwanted, unappreciated, as if he was living out a movie, and his life was the life of a villain, a life of someone who everyone hated, who the children booed and the adults told not to be like. “There are some things from my childhood that caused me pain, and those scars, those memories haunt me on different days,” he admitted,leaving out any details he could.

His father kicked his legs, pushing Stan to the floor and starting to kick at his stomach and at his body, leaving as many bruises as he could. “You’re a little shit, you know that? Always a fuckin’ child. You were never my son,” his father spat, looking at the son that resembled him who was on the ground. “Never going to amount to anything, all you’re going to do is chase your stupid dream, chase this fake reality you’re making for yourself.” Stan heard his fathers’ comments, and he wanted to talk to him, tell him that no he wasn’t going to deal with this, that he wasn’t going to let him speak to him that way. He wanted to yell at his dad, tell him the way he was treating him was not fair, was not good especially since he didn’t do anything, but as his dad kicked, as he bruised his body, well Stan was left helpless. “Fuckin’ coward,” he spat, before walking back to the living room in order to continue watching his show and drinking his alcohol.

“Who doesn’t have scars from their childhood? I mean, I look at pictures of me when I was young, and was surprised I was even let out in public.” She laughed, before looking at him, “Anyway, obviously we know what you doctor a living, but why don’t you tell us about your job in your own words. Are you happy doing what you’re doing right now?”

Stan gave the girl a soft smile and then nodded his head as she spoke, questioning him and then taking a breath as she waited for an answer. “Well I am happy,” he started, knowing that he was doing something he wanted, something he achieved himself. Although he studied and managed to graduated with a first class, he still wasn’t able to do anything with his degree. He needed to continue studying, but when he did, he truly couldn’t do it, he couldn’t sit and get the marks he needed. He had no motivation to study. He didn’t have any source of income, and it was bothering him. During university, he had Noah who was constantly telling him to push through and that he could do it. During grade school and until he graduated, he had his mum and sister support him and tell him that no matter what they loved him. But then, when he was studying, he didn’t have anyone tell him anything, not that many people even knew that he was studying. People didn’t ask, they didn’t question him, and why he was doing certain things. No one even noticed when he was going through his medical scare, and it only set in his mind, it only wrote and itched into his brain. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t wanted, he wasn’t needed.

Stan was about to speak up to continue, but Cher sat up straighter, “We’re almost out of time, but do you think there’s something in your past, be it a previous job or anything else that will always affect the way you want people to see you now?”

Stan stood up, trying to think of what to say, but only found statements being thrown at him:

“You’re a dick who wants to be in with the crowd but really you aren’t.” “All I want is to fucking drop you off the planet.” “You’re temporary, like anyone wants you in their life forever.” “You’re an intoxication, you hurt whoever you love.”

Stan couldn’t take the thoughts that he was thinking off, he couldn’t even stop them from repeating, from getting worse, from forcing him to break down.

You know, babe, for a human being, you really don’t have a shred of common decency. You’re nothing but a shitpile, Stan. Stooping low enough to insult someone who isn’t as privileged as you are just because I got mad you disrespected her. God, no wonder your mother wants nothing to do with you. I mean, fair enough, my mum hasn’t rung in a while either, but I know why she’s mad at me. She’s mad at me because she thinks I’m not taking care of my mental health. That thing I’ve been dealing with that you’ve somehow managed to completely ignore. Eh, not surprising though. You didn’t notice your own ex-girlfriend was going through things. I was so confused why yours bailed, but now it’s really too obvious. You’re nothing but an ungrateful, selfish, hole of a human being. I can’t believe it took me this long to see what a waste of space you are.”

Stan’s body shut down, and he sat up a little, trying to control his mind. He frankly didn’t think he could do it, listen to these words anymore. Was there something that will always affect the way people see him? Of course, his attitude, his personality, his actions, they all affect how people see him. People hated him. Everyone hated him. Payton didn’t even want him anymore, and frankly, he felt as if sitting down and listening to this was going to drive him crazy, that sitting here and taking in what was going to happen in his mind. He instantly felt the loss of control, he felt like he was going to puke. What was happening, what was he going to do? Was he just going to listen to this, was he going to take this? Not anymore. He got up and grabbed his jacket, taking himself out of there.

As he was walking out of the building, ready to get out of the Hamptons and to a place where he felt safe and belonged, where he felt most at home, Stan’s life literally flashed before his eyes. Sure he had re-lived through most of his childhood and young adult life through memories, but something about this instant really did make him truly see his life once again. It wasn’t that he was given this new sense of life that would help him fill the gaps he had been feeling, now more than ever. It was more of Stan seeing himself in a different light. He didn’t find himself as useless as he thought he was, in fact, he was trying now more than ever to prove he was more than what people perceived him to be. He was more than the idiot who continuously made mistakes, and he was definitely worth more than what he’d been called by his former friend and his friends. He wasn’t sure what was going on, or why he suddenly felt pain in almost every part of his body.

He was crossing the street, his phone out as he looked through some snapchats a few childhood friends had sent him, laughing to himself at what was going on. He made a mental note that he needed to make a trip back home, Stan heard the loud horn that was trying to catch his attention. Not sure what’s going on, Stan turned to the direction of the horn, knowing there was no way he was going to get out of this without at least breaking something. The driver wasn’t looking, and didn’t notice that the light had actually turned red as he reached the traffic intersection. Just as he looked up, Stan was standing there, frozen in spot at the car that was probably going 50 miles an hour straight towards him. The man tried to stop, he really did, but it didn’t help. It didn’t stop Stan from getting hit, and it didn’t stop Stan from hitting the windshield with his elbows and back going straight against the glass.

Soon enough, he was on the ground, his face bruised and cut and his body, well in simple terms, he couldn’t feel anything. He heard people screaming, yelling for him. He even felt someone beside him, trying to keep him from loosing consciousness, but nothing was helping, he was in too much pain, pain he couldn’t believe was possible.