#selfpara01

Cry. Eat. Get mad at reality show stars. Think about Raf. Repeat.

It was a vicious cycle and it was the first time she broke it when she finally dusted herself off, actually took a long shower and drove to the flower shop to get this bouquet. She figured her conversation -- or confession -- was overdue and Sam had to swallow thickly as she sat down in front of Rafael’s parents’ tombstones. “Lo siento,” Sam said, immediately bowing as she closed her eyes and shook her head. 

“Lo siento. I... I know I promised you both that I... that I’ll take care of him, but I-I don’t... I don’t know if... if I’m the person for the job. I don’t... I don’t think he’d want me to be,” Sam said in a small voice, hating how she could hear the way her voice was wobbling. She really wanted to be strong for this, but even the mere thought of Raf was enough to make her crumple down. This was the most fragile state Sam ever felt herself to be in and she thought she understand what a broken heart was when Raf broke up with her over the prison phone, but this? This was much worse. This was her knowing he was working a couple of streets away. He was here but he wasn’t hers. 

For all she knew, he was probably fucking a different sweetbutt every night. 

The bitter thought came at her so suddenly and Sam had to shake her head because even with what she saw, she couldn’t think of Raf that way because that wasn’t him. It fucking terrified her to know that she didn’t really know him as much as she thought she did. Maybe she was just trying so hard to paint him in the light that was familiar to her that she was blinding herself to the truth. Maybe Raf wasn’t who she thought she was? 

Wiping the tears away from her cheeks, Sam focused on the flowers instead. She had read somewhere that bringing flowers to a grave was the same as having a shrine for the deceased in their home. It reminded her of the table Sam and Raf had in their home where they had pictures of Rafael’s parents and Seth. There were candles on there too and Sam made sure the flowers planted on that table were fresh every morning. 

Some even said that the tradition started during the Greeks, when they placed flowers on the graves of Greek warriors. It was believed that if the flowers took root and blossomed on the graves, the souls of the warriors were sending a message that they had found happiness in the next world. She wished it was still like that, that she could have some way of communicating with the dead to make sure that they were okay. Before coming to Rafael’s parents’ graves, she had placed a bouquet over at Seth’s grave too, even did a ceremonial shot and left one for him, which is something she always did whenever she visited him. 

More than anything, though, Sam just wanted a conversation. Funny how that was the exact same thing she had wanted from their son, which had barreled into something that brought her to tears every time she thought about it. She wished she could still talk to his parents, laugh with them, eat his ma’s cooking and listen to his dad complain. Even though she knew Rafael’s relationship with his father was strained, it was obvious that his dad cared for him so much. He and Raf probably just shared the trait of not really knowing how to express that care for other people well. 

“I wish things were different,” Sam whispered before swallowing thickly. “I love your son. I’ve never loved anybody the way I loved Raf, and I... I wanna make sure he’s okay as much as you do but I--” Sam paused as she heard the crack in her voice, knowing a fresh wave of tears was bound to come. “I don’t think he wants to be around me anymore. I don’t... I don’t even think he wants me anymore,” Sam admitted, feeling as if someone literally ripped her heart out from her chest just because it was hurting so much. 

How? How could anyone find the words to explain how lost she felt without him? How stupid she felt for trusting someone with her entire heart because now, here she was grasping at anything to keep herself afloat. She didn’t know how he was doing but she could only hope that he was faring better than she was, because as angry as she was with him, she had only ever been concerned about him, and if this was her rock bottom then there was no fire in her heart to wish the same upon him. “I can’t really blame him, you know?” Sam said, exhaling shakily as she let the tears fall down her cheeks. “He... he said I made him feel like.... like-- I don’t even know. But he’s angry at me. Apparently, I like to play the victim card a lot,” Sam said, a mirthless chuckle escaping her lips. 

“And... maybe... maybe he’s right, you know? I may have fucked a lot of things up but I... I really thought I was getting this relationship right. I... I tried to be patient and there were fights here and there but I... God, I was trying so hard and maybe... maybe he took that as me belittling his efforts or... or something. Maybe I... I didn’t try hard enough? I don’t... I don’t know,” Sam whispered as she hugged her knees close to her chest, remembering how angry he was at that clubhouse as he yelled at her, remembering the way his hands were on that sweetbutt’s thighs and she had to suppress a yell that was bubbling in her chest. The sight of it still made her want to punch somebody. Mix that in with being sleep-deprived as hell and it just made Sam want to pop another sleeping pill so she can escape all this pain. 

“I’ve got friends in the MC,” Sam said with a little shake of her head, reminding herself why she came here in the first place. “It goes without saying that they already look out for each other because... that’s what they do, you know? But I can... I can talk to Marcus. Roman’s there too. Stray too. They’ll... they’ll take care of him. I know they will. I--” God, just how many times can a person feel choked up talking one person? Dammit. “I’m sorry,” Sam breathed out as she bowed her head in shame. “I made you both a promise and I don’t... I don’t know if I can hold it up but... I’ll... I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? He’ll be safe. You know, tio, I always told you he’s smarter than he seems, so much stronger than you give him credit for. He’ll... he’ll be okay without... without me,” Sam murmured, clearing her throat as she stood up and dusted herself off. “I’m sure he already is,” she said, unable to hide the bitterness from her voice as the thought of that sweetbutt on his lap popped up again, causing her to close her eyes tightly.

Golden boy.

From a young age, Ryder was deemed as such. Son to the Mayor, a respected family with a perfect lawn, a nice house, a pure bred dog in a safe neighborhood. It was picturesque, a vision of what a put together family should be all topped with a seemingly perfect son. But with expectations came pressure, seemingly building and building over years from small mistakes. The grades were the starting point, never hitting the mark, always trying and never succeeding. Like there was some glitch in this perfectly structured game that someone built, and he was the bug that was seemingly messing everything up.

His mother at least tried to look past it, his father however, couldn’t wrap his head around it. How something so right ended up being so wrong.

So, in came the sports. It was easy for him, less thinking, more ways to get out all that pent up anger at himself for never quite reaching the potential his father had wanted him to be. This was he was good at, and Ryder felt that with every pass of the ball, with every throw that spiraled perfectly out of his hand. This was the way to regain the respect his father so seemingly lost, he’d never seen his dad more proud of him than his first big win, or the day the scouts came and he played so great that several colleges reached out almost immediately. Finally, it felt like he had a purpose, that he wasn’t a problem but instead someone who made his family and town proud.

High school was almost a walk in the park, somehow he was passing with a high enough grade to keep him on the team, he had the most popular girlfriend in the whole school, his best friend and him were running the halls and the field, he felt like he had things under control. No stupid mistakes, no slip ups, he was finally on top of everything. And then in came Rachel Berry. He couldn’t begin to tell you why he did what he did, why he threw away his relationship with Bree for someone who most considered way below his league. Maybe it was because of her infatuation with him, the attention she seemingly showered him in was nice, plus she was older. It also didn’t hurt that it had been a power move to piss off Puck, and it had worked just as well.

But it was a stupid mistake, one he realized far too late, and one that he was determined to fix.

Senior year was when things came into perspective, walking down the hall of his home to hear his father on the phone with someone discussing Ryder’s future. The amount of money it was taking to keep his son afloat, to ensure that he was sent to a good college, to “make certain that his dimwitted child could survive on his own and spell his own name correctly”. A shot to the heart and proof enough that things weren’t as great as Ryder had believed to be. It was a tough pill to swallow, realizing that your whole life had been planned and paid for by a father you thought you could make proud. But, for the sake of his family, he pushed past it. Or more so the sake of his mother, who was always worried about him.

First, he had to fix things with Bree, which was a lot easier than expected. Then, throw himself back into sports. If anything, the one thing he was good at sure did help with his pent up emotions, and it was enough to win them a championship and get him crowned homecoming king next to his girlfriend. Rachel was a mistake in the past, one impulsively decided on jealousy and power, but things were good with Bree. Soon enough he got that scholarship, one that he wasn’t entirely certain he earned with the grades, but he knew he snagged with the athletics at least. The proof was in the pudding there, after all, there was a trophy for crying out loud.

But, once again, every up had a down with Ryder Lynn.

The breakup, it was unavoidable. Ryder tried the long distance, he wanted to make it work, but it wasn’t enough. Bree said it wasn’t enough, that her trust in him was broken long ago, and that they were kidding themselves.

He felt useless.

Then came Hunter’s overdose. Ryder had been so wrapped up in football, in making an impression, on impressing the coaches and getting drafted that he hadn’t been checking up as he should’ve. He still remembered that night, sitting in his apartment after blowing up Hunter’s phone with no response and then getting a call. His stomach dropped and he felt the room spinning, but he was miles away. Ryder had guilt, he should’ve been checking up on his best friend, making sure he was doing okay, but he hadn’t done a thing. The only thing he /could/ do was tell her to call the police and then call Hunter’s father.

Useless.

Sweat dripped down his temples as he tightened the gloves on his hands, boxing tended to ease the pain in his stomach. He felt uneasy this whole week, anxious beyond control that he’d never felt before, pacing, not getting any sleep, slipping up in practices, but that couldn’t happen. Ryder couldn’t fuck up the ONE thing he’d tried so hard to keep a grasp on. Leaving Castleport was supposed to get his mind off one of the biggest regrets he’d had; letting Rachel back in. Because it had seemingly come back to bite him in the ass, the letter she sent with the short clip of that video haunting him every step. She had him in the palm of her hand, only solidifying that he was in fact correct but rendering him unable to do anything while his friends took the blame for crimes they didn’t commit. Sugar being behind bars when he could help, when all he had to do was show that letter and free her but he couldn’t because of that stupid tape. Blackmail that ultimately made him....

Useless.

A heavy sigh left his head as he shook off the thoughts that had made him sick to his stomach, fist connecting with the bags in quick one-twos. With every hit he tried to push away his cluttered mind. Rachel. Bree. Hunter. Sugar. Each one having some sort of past mistake that he wanted so badly to erase, to be that golden boy that people respected and loved. But it was hard when he felt a lack of respect and love for himself, keeping it together with a charming smile and a carefree attitude when inside he was crumbling.

Another quick one-two, arms still aching from an all day practice, but the burn reminded him that he was able to control a pain. That this right here was something that he had a power over, something that didn’t make him feel useless. Besides, he couldn’t sleep anyways, so why not burn this energy until he collapsed? However, the next hit that connected to the bag sent a burn through his knuckles, making him yank his hand back as he hissed out under his breath. Time was something that escaped him often, and he unwrapped his hand slowly, peeling back the bandages to see the crimson red that was leaking through the white material.

“Fuck.” He muttered, eyeing the small injury, thankful that it was at least on his left hand and not his throwing hand but still grimacing at the sight. But at the same time, a small rush coursed through his body at it for some unknowing reason.It was some sort of control he’d craved, something that made him feel something other than mental pain, and he sighed under his breath as he pushed himself off the bench he’d plopped down onto to tend to the wound.

There was a reason this was done in third year, Hunter grumbled to himself as he made his way to the front of the classroom. 

When he’d first faced a boggart his deepest fear had been so simple. A zombie had come tumbling into view, which had been expected after he’d discovered horror films and had nightmare after nightmare about flesh falling off of bones and sickly yellow teeth coming after him. Three years later and he had no clue what his biggest fear was. His parent’s disapproval had faded to a dull roar in his head and he didn’t think he had any other fears tucked away anywhere.

Sucking in a deep breath Hunter tumbled towards the front of the classroom and waited in front of the cabinet, knuckles white and hands shaking as the door to it slowly creaked open.

When the boggart first started forming into Sebastian Smythe’s figure he almost wanted to laugh and call the whole thing a failure. Then the voice spoke and it was Sebbie the child in front of him, the first person to truly give a shit about him outside of what he could become one day, leaning in with a menacing tone that belied the sweet features. “You’re going to be nothing,” it - he whispered.

“You’re already so unimportant. When you leave the castle, who will remember you? When you enter the real world, what wizard will know who you are besides Cubicle #4? You have nothing special. You are nothing special.”

Toddler Sebastian swirled into Clara, and then Marley, and Roderick, and Albus James and Gracie and everyone who’d ever mattered chanting the same words in his face. “You were never more than a name,” and that was his parents, his mother’s somewhat kind face twisted into an ugly smile and his father’s usual condescending stare turning downright disgusted. Then back to Sebastian, the face he loathed (the face that drove nails in his heart everytime he saw it), flickering for a few moments before settling on his image.

Every word the boggart spit out was a hit straight to his heart. When he finally managed “RIDDIKULUS!” and Sebastian turned into a monkey-version of himself clanging away on toy symbols, Hunter only managed a sharp bark of laughter before pushing his way back to his seat. 

Stefan and Katherine had lived together since they were sixteen years old and now were they eighteen. All these years had he lived a double life that now could cost him the life he could continue to live with the love of his life. But to risk their life because of something he was doing wasn’t worth it. If he only disappeared then their baby could grow up safe and in the future think that she never had a father. Which he would do. Not because he hated them, or that he wanted to leave but it was for the best. For their own good if his enemies came after him. To be a drug dealer was dangerous but he couldn’t stop with it. He could hide and still deal drugs to people who needed it but he could have a partner who could deliver them. Perhaps even the forbidden potions Katherine had learned him to make. Now he had to plan everything so it would go smoothly so none could identify his body and knowing he actually was dead for real. Something good, real good so none would have any suspicions. “Stefan?” A very familiar voice said behind him and he jumped, almost dropped the cup he was holding. He turned around to see his beautiful girlfriend Katherine Blye. The woman he soon had to leave and the baby she was expecting “You scared me” He chuckled lightly and set down the cup to the side then he wrapped his arms around her “Our child is going to be beautiful” Stefan smirked and gulped at the same time. How could he know when he was going to leave? Katherine smiled brightly to him and nodded her head. She was happy. More happy than he had ever seen her on a while. It had been up and downs for her the last few weeks but perhaps was it normal for pregnant women. What could he know. He leaned closer to her and kissed her lips softly, then whispered “I love you” and smiled against her lips as she whispered the three words and eight letters back to him. I’m sorry, he thought to himself when she looked up into his eyes. “From where did I get the luck? To meet you” She said to him and he shrugged his shoulders. “And I ask you the same, Kate. If I never had moved here when I was fifteen then we would never had met” What a relief it had been at the same time because then he wouldn’t feel guilty or sad for leaving her, but then at the same time, would he then have the so called ‘career’ as he had now? Probably not. But all of this wasn’t what he had planned.“That’s true” She confirmed “I remember it as it was yesterday. I couldn’t understand a thing what you said, but with time I learned. To understand irish English is hard, you know” Katherine laughed softly and continued “But you turned out be a charming guy whom learned to speak properly English after all and still with that accent” Stefan couldn’t help to laugh and he nodded “That’s why you fell in love with me?” Katherine nodded her head proudly “Iontach” Stefan said in a low voice.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

The day had come, the day when Stefan was going to disappear. This had to be done. It was now planned and this plan couldn’t fail. It wouldn’t. First thing he did in the morning was as always kissing Katherine good morning and go to the kitchen to take his morning coffee, but not today. When he woke up this morning he walked straight into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror for a few minutes before he walked into the shower. As the water hit his body he closed his eyes. This was the last day he would shower here. The last day he would see her being pregnant with their child. Everything he had here would be his last day. Forever.   A few minutes later he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his body. With only eighteen years old was he going to fake his own death. How many did that? But on the other hand, not everyone was a warlock and/or lived such a dangerous life as he did and hadn’t gone through everything he had since he was sixteen. “Honey?” Her voice again. Her sweet voice. It echoed in his head. Honey, handsome, my guy, my love. The words who made him smile would no longer be in his life. He walked out from the bathroom and saw Katherine sitting on the edge of the bed “I have a feeling it might be a girl” She looked up at him when he came into the bedroom. “How?” He asked her and walked over to her. Katherine grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, then slowly slided her hand inside of the towel and smirking up to him “Just a feeling I have” She replied and then stood up and looked him straight into his eyes “It’s a shame that I want you so badly right now. You’re always so handsome when you’re wet” A fake smirk appeared upon Stefan’s lips “Oh really?” He teased and winked to her “Too bad you can’t have me right now” Katherine gasped and digged her nails into his stomach “Ouch!” He groaned and glared at her. “Stop teasing me when you know we can’t have sex” She murmured and walked over to the door. Stefan turned around to look at her as she walked away “And for that you had to dig your nails in my stomach?” Katherine shrugged her shoulders and walked out from their bedroom. Amazing. First thing that happened was that he made her angry with him. How sensitive was the women? It was a joke and she joked too, but when he said something then it was all of sudden not okay. With her being pregnant wasn’t fun. Not fun at all and he hated to be around her when she was in a bad mood. At the same time he thought it would be a relief to stop hearing everything that sucked about being pregnant, what she couldn’t eat, do and everything else she whined about. How could some men stand out with it and be there 24/7 for their woman? But perhaps wasn’t other men that. “Oh well.. Good thing you don’t have to live another day with me then” He murmured angrily to himself as he changed into his favorite clothes. Jeans, a red hoodie and then his leather jacket. The perfect outfit. He could buy new clothes later anyway. Then with only a few minutes later he walked out to the kitchen. Not looking at Katherine as he walked past her to go and grab a coffee after all even though he had planned not to take one. “Stefan, I’m sorry” Katherine broke the silence and Stefan looked up at her from his coffee cup. He leaned against the kitchen counter and shrugged his shoulders “It’s fine” he lied “It’s nothing we can change now” he continued and drank up his coffee. Then for the last time he walked over to Katherine and kissed her lips passionately and told her how much he loved her, then put his hand on her stomach “Love you too, little one” He smiled to Katherine before he left “Will you come home early or late from work?” He heard her shouting after him. Stefan turned around when he was at the front door. He grabbed his leather jacket from the hanger and took his car keys from the key hanger “Late” He finally replied, but that late would be never. “Alright. Love you!” He heard her saying. The last words to him. This wasn’t going to be easy for him. Not to leave her like this and to lie to her. Lying about his job a bit outside town and to now lie to her and everyone else that he was dead. It was going to look like an accident. A car accident. “Gheobhaidh tú ar do bhealach ar ais” He said to himself as he sat down in the car and put in the key then turned it until the engine started. Then he drove away, pretty far away from the motorway he usually drove whenever he was going out of town. Not many was out at this time in the morning. Stefan took a deep breath and turned off the engine and stood there on the motorway on the bridge and looked straight before him. No cars neared him and he could walk out to do what he was going to do. Yet again, same as before he let the engine starting for the last time as he turned the key and stepped out of the car. Then he walked to the backseat and took out the gasoline container and right after he had opened it he poured the gasoline all over the car ”Farwell Lightwood” He said out loud and looked at the car and to the man who sat behind the steering wheel. One of his enemies that he had picked up late last night. A smugly smirk crept upon his lips as he pulled out the matches from his leather jacket. Then he threw one after one on the car until it exploded and he walked away. Hopefully would Stefan’s phone and id card still be safe in the little bag he had hid and perhaps with luck would the police find them, if they were smart enough. Eighteen year old Stefan Lightwood was now gone. It was time to live as an adult. Act like nothing had happened. Move away to city after city. Europe was the destionation. The beautiful city London, in England. A favorite place there he had been as a child with his parents. It brought back old memories.

CHEERS TO THE NEW LIFE

"Leave me alone" Dean murmured and slammed the door in his younger sister's face but once the door was closed he heard a scream outside and a kick on the door, another one then another one. He locked the door and walked over to his bed and wrote a note then a few minutes later threw the paper under the door "Do you understand what it stands, you fucking idiotic freak?" He sat down on the floor and leaned his head against the door, listened to if she was still there "Dean, what is cunt?" she asked curiously and he could hear her sit down on the floor "Please open up and tell me" His sister was only seven years old and she didn't understand much of what he said but he only said it when they were home alone and he had to babysit her.

"It means fuck off so do it. Fuck off and let me be alone. What do you want?" He stood up and opened the door quickly and she fell down onto the floor. Dean looked down at her and raised an eyebrow "What is your problem, Jen?" He was furious and could barely control his temper when he was mad "Just.." he rolled his eyes and lifted her up from the floor and held her tight in his arms "If you want me to watch movies with you then I can do it" A wide smile appeared upon the little girl's face and she wrapped her arms tightly around Dean's neck and hugged him tightly "Thank you Deany" she giggled and looked at him "Whatever" He murmured and walked out to the living room. He put down Jennifer on the couch and walked over to one of the cabinets they'd in the room, there they had all the movies. 

Dean picked her favorite. The one she always wanted to see with him and now he probably could tell what everyone in the movie said. It was starting to get really boring but he did it for her and she was that type of person who told their parents everything they had done. If he had said no to her or swear around her or calling her things then he knew that his father was going to beat him up. Times like this he ran home to his friends so he wouldn't get into trouble. It was more now and the bruises on his arms was more visible now, also on his legs. He had a scar on his left wrist because of his father. The man was crazy. Someone who was thirteen shouldn't have a life like this. Almost thirteen in seven days. He hadn't done anything except from that he swore at every word he said but he thought it was cool since his friends did it and he also had friends older than him. 

Was this his punishment? But for what? All he had done was being nice ever since he arrived to the family. Not so much lately since his depression grew each day. None ever believed him that his father hit him and when he showed them his bruises they only said that he was the one who had caused it and not his father. This man who he never could call a father was many afraid of therefore none had the nuts to say anything "Jen?" Dean said all of sudden and turned his head to his little sister "I need to go but don't tell mom and dad alright?" They were back home in fifteen minutes and he had to hurry out from the house since he had a feeling she would ask them what the word cunt mean "Where will you go?" she asked with her sweet curious voice and her puppy eyes. Dean always melted for that and he took a deep sigh before he replied to her "A friend and I are going to meet in 10 minutes so that's why but you'll be okay by yourself here right? It won't be long until our parents arrive home again" He leaned close to his sister and kissed her cheek softly "Love you, little one" He said with a smile on his face and ruffled her hair.