Chapter One


I was home schooled.
I had been ever since the age of thirteen, and planned on keeping it that way. Nothing was ever going to persuade me to go back in to High School, not with all the torment I had to put up with, not ever was I getting used to that again. I was different, still fragile as f***, but different, I knew that I didn’t deserve any of that, and nobody would ever give me a break if I did go back, so I did the safest thing, opted for Home schooling.
“Sweetie, Mr. Connors is here!” My mother called me, and I closed the novel I was reading – Withering Heights – and put a fluffy pen to mark my place, and scuttled down the stairs, reluctant to do any Geometry today.
“On my way,” I murmured, fixing my blouse, the sleeve kept on falling off, revealing my black bra strap, was it meant to do that? I had no clue; not a single friend meant not a zilch of fashion sense on my part.
“Ahh, Aria!” he smiled, shaking my hand and I returned his smile, more hesitantly though. Three years with the same teacher and I still couldn’t bring myself to act normal.
“What’s it today Mr. Connors?”
“Geometry,” he neatened out some papers, taking a few out of his folder whilst I opened up my book.
Sigh. Why am I not surprised?
After an hour of shapes my mood came to an ultimate low and Mr. Connors realized this, so, being the nice guy he is, he let me have a go at my favorite subject for the other hour - English.
“Shakespeare?” he raised an eyebrow, fixing the glasses firmly on the bridge of his nose. I have him a genuine grin that he seemed pleased to see.
“God bless you Mr. Connors! Yes please,”

















***

I went outside, to get a little fresh air, straight after I was done with education for the day, and Angel, my gorgeous kitten followed along.
“Sweetheart!” Mom called, walking with me; the silence verging on awkwardness. “Your father and I need to speak to you,” she whispered, not staring at me, not daring to, and I begun to wonder why.
“About?” I questioned, my hands in my jacket, the breeze sweeping away the crisp golden leaves.
“We’re placing you in Therapy Aria,”
“Why?” I whispered quietly, not entirely shocked, just sort of… speechless. I expected this, ever since I became a teenager I had become different, distanced myself from everything I had loved, become somebody else, I wasn’t the girl I used to be – and my parent’s finally caught on.
“Why?” she was surprised, she expected shouting, but I wasn’t going to be giving her that satisfaction, because that was too normal, it was what teenagers did, and I was anything but a normal teenager. “Well because, let’s face it honey, you’re not you… you’re not the same girl your father and I spent loving and caring for,” she sighed and Angel wriggled around my legs, causing me to stop in my tracks, not wanting to fall, and Mom doing the same. I looked at her, observing her for the very first time in so long.
Her dark curly hair was flat and dull, her amazing hazel eyes were lifeless, and she had bags under them, her skin was raw and uncared for, she was a wreck. Is this what I had turned my family in to? Things they promised themselves they would never be?
I was an evil child. I hadn’t realized what my actions were causing.
“I understand, OK; I’ll do it, for us, as a family. I’m not going to deny not needing it, because the truth lies right before us,” my voice flew with the wind, but Mom heard and nodded, smiling gratefully, hugging me hard.
“This is for the best, we want the best for you, your father and I love you, so much. We want you to be the girl that you and I know deep down you still are, and are desperate to reconcile with,” she wiped the tears from her eyes and Angel purred, rubbing herself against my leg.
“I love you Mom,” I murmured.
“I love you too my love,”
“When do I start?” I asked.
“Tomorrow, your therapist is eager to meet you, we’ve told him a bit of background information, so he knows what to expect, is that OK?” she asked uncertainly.
“Yeah, no problem,” I tried to reply back cheerily, but it just sounded distressed, and hurt.






***

I was sitting there, in the waiting room, tapping my converse against the floorboards, poking at the holes on my jeans at the knee.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.
F***, I’d even be lying if I said I was nervous – because I was beyond that. I hadn’t spoken to somebody except my relatives in a long, very long time.
“It’s going to be alright sport,” Dad smiled, trying to reassure me, though I’m guessing he was just as nervous as I was.
“Dad, how many times do I have to come here?” I sighed, gulping my breath.
“Twice a week, not too much, is it?” he smiled.
“No, not re-”
“You may come in,” there was a voice from the other side of the door and I swallowed, so bloody anxious I thought I was going to have a break-down.
“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Dad scooted out there faster than you could say therapy. I got up, shuffling my feet and opened up the door, closing my eyes and walked in.
“Ahh, Aria?”
I opened my eyes, only to be met with amazing grey ones, staring straight back at me. I tried to control myself from exhaling the large amount of breath I had been holding in.
“Yes,” I nodded, refusing to stare at him.
“Please, do sit down,” he ushered to the seat in front of the desk he was behind, and I did, finding it highly awkward.
“My name’s Aaron,” he offered his hand, which after thirty seconds of deciding whether or not I should, I finally thought that I should suck it up and do so, and I did.
“Well Aria, tell me a little about yourself,” he smiled encouragingly.
“I’m seventeen…” I muttered.
“And I’m twenty-six…” he was copying me! Wait, he was twenty-six?
“You’re twenty-six? My God! You could pass for nineteen,” I exclaimed, and then flushed, sounding so pathetic it was hard not die of embarrassment.
“Why, thank you,” he snickered. “Are you a guitar player?” he asked. My eyes went wide, how did he know? He seemed to know what I was about to ask, because he suddenly said.
“Oh well, your hands, they look like the type that must be awesome at some instrument,”
“Ahh, do you play?”
“The drums,” he chuckled and I smiled.
“I was never great at that, always had a problem remembering which drum was which,” I grinned; I was starting to feel slightly comfortable.
“It’s not too bad, maybe I could show you sometime?” he laughed.
“I’d like that,” I answered honestly. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his tanned arms, and he caught me staring at them.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he gazed at me, quietly. Were these the questions that were asked in therapy? I had no clue. I stared straight back at his amazing face, his large grey eyes complimented by thick long eyelashes, his smooth glorious skin, his dark hair messily etched over his head and his jaw firm and tight.
“No, do you have a girlfriend?” and as soon as I said it I wished I could take the words back, reel them in, and not sound like such a moron.
“Just broke up a few weeks ago after a five-year relationship,” he sighed and I winced, I was never good with sorrowful stories.
“Sorry to hear about that,” I whispered, and it was quiet for a while after that.
“No worries, why’d you think your parents put you in to therapy?” he posed the question so quickly I hadn’t really caught on.
“I guess I’ve just become different, from the person I used to be, I used to be like every other kid, content, happy with life, living without any worries, now it’s just… not the same, I’ve grown apart from everything I once knew, and I think my parents just want me to reconnect with the girl I was,” I played with the hem of my shirt, staring down at it. What he said next took me by surprise and I never quite considered what he was asking.
“Is that what you want? To reconnect with her?”
“To be honest, I’m not even sure anymore, it’s like, I picture myself being that girl, that I was, all over again, and my life seems to be going so great, but then I feel, deep inside, I can never match up to whom I was, and it’ll always bug me I suppose. I’m confused, always have been, and I’m guessing, I always will,” I chuckled, my mousy brown hair falling in front of my eyes – and before I could even get it out of the way, he was leaning across the desk, and doing so for me, his eyes locked with mine, and my breath was caught in my throat as his fingers hovered there, at my cheek which was burning crimson.
“My God, you seem to be in such a state, and you’re so young, you have your life laid out in front of you and you’re worrying already…” he shook his head, retrieving back in to his seat and there was a part of me that sank as he did so, though it had no reason to.
I shrugged, staring out of the window, the sunset taking control of our surroundings, the vision of red and purple painted across the infinite sky catching me off guard.
“I’ve become used to it, it’s a part of my life now, without worrying I really have nothing else in my ridiculously boring life!” and without thinking, I walked towards the window, trying to indulge in a better look, to soak it in, let my eyes envision more pleasure and embrace it.
“Worry isn’t a hobby, it isn’t something you do for fun Aria, it’s a psychological function that occurs when you’re stressed, and you have no reason to be stressed, not at your age,” even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was frustrated, the strain in his voice was clear enough. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I felt a voice at my neck and I gasped, shocked that we were at such close proximities. Goosebumps became apparent on all of my bare skin as I shook my head.
“I… I know,” I turned around, so my chest was against his, and I glanced up at him, my heart hammering wildly under my ribcage, praying he couldn’t hear it. His eyes were firm on my face, like he was trying to memorize all of it, from my light brown eyes to the way my lips (like a gift from God Mom would normally say) pouted out the slightest, being a mellow pink.
“You’re so incredibly beautiful, you have nothing going against you Aria, when will you be able to see that?”
At this point I had to look down, and I fixated my stare on my black converse, not wanting to answer the question, but always my pale cheeks I could feel, were being warmed up. He said I was incredibly beautiful? Was he insane?
“Aaron, I’ve never been to therapy, in fact, I’ve never been anywhere out of my house for an excruciatingly long time, but even I know that therapy doesn’t go down like-”
He kissed me. He was kissing me. His strong tanned arms wrapped around my waist, and his lips firm on mine, and surprisingly, my lips melded with his, and my arms were being draped across his neck, both of our bodies so close. After a few blissful moments of my very first kiss he looked at me, his breath heavy, like mine.
“Oh come on Aria, take a chance, you and I know it wasn’t just me that was dying for that. Ever since you stepped in here it’s taken a lot for me to control myself, physically and mentally. I want to reach out to you, help you in every possible way. I want... I want you to trust me,”
I was stunned. No, scrap that, beyond anything I’ve ever felt. Butterflies rippled in to my stomach and my blood was rushing with adrenaline.
“Aaron, we can’t… do this, technically it’s illegal,” I whispered, looking away.
“That hasn’t stopped many people,” his voice was equally low, and his hands were cupping my face. Oh how I just wanted to kiss him again…
“Well it’s enough to scare the s*** out of me!” I was always such a little sissy when it came to anything about breaking the law. I had led a safe life, never taken any risks, never done anything that wasn’t supposed to be done. I had led a safe, but s*** life – and I knew it.
“You’re eighteen in a month,” he kissed my nose. How did he know? “I have your folder, and I’ve read through it,” he seemed to answer my question.
“You’re insane, you know that? We barely know each other!” I shook my head. He was so different, so open, so open to take risks, to be hurt, but I couldn’t do that to myself…
“So let’s get to know each other. Ever since I’ve been single I haven’t met a girl that actually makes my heartbeat race and my fingers tingle when I touch her,”
Oh boy, I was flattered, to say the least.
I did that to him?
Me?
Wow. He was so gorgeous though, he could get any girl he wanted, and he’d rather waste that on an insecure seventeen year old.
“I’m in Therapy, isn’t that enough of a reason for you to keep away?” I half-joked. He was quiet for a while and I began to get worried, what if he never thought about that?
“Listen, Aria, I know a lot about you, not just the folder I was given, but behind those eyes, I can see the pain, and frustration, the hurt, and the incapability to trust and love – and I want to be the one who takes that all away,” he whispered, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized that I formed.
Just like that, right there and then. For the first time in many years, I knew what I wanted. I realized that in life, risks needed to be appreciated, and that’s what I was going to do right there and then, to prove everybody, and myself, wrong.
So I kissed him.