Was it her beauty that reeled me in? The mysterious, deep, color her eyes contained? Or her addictive smile, smell, or even her personality? It was none of these things. The reason she's to afraid & too sad to even to talk is what made her even more mysterious & captivating to me. Not talking for 6 years as a side affect from a tragic accident is what I learned had caused it; her sisters & mothers death traumatized her. And my goal is to keep her brake free, to help her gain the courage to keep her life to the fullest. To speak to me.


2. Lonely Days; Frank Sinatra


Another day of doing the exact same thing. Getting up at the same time. Going to work at the same time, getting home from work at the same time. Cooking dinner by myself, and them just going to bed. And do you know what I miss? Piano. My mom had me take lessons when I was younger and I actually loved it. My teacher told me I was a fast leaner and that I was actually pretty good at it.

But after they died, I kind of pushed it away because it reminded me of them. I pushed everything away. When I had to take therapy, my councilor told me that I needed to do something that I liked to do, something thy got my mind off my mom and sister. Something that could just help me escape. I didn't even mention piano, because although I did feel world while I played; it reminded me of them too much.

So instead I got stuck into some painting class that I sucked at, my therapist saying "put your feelings into the paint brush." I would just laugh to myself because I didn't relate to painting at all. So instead of attempting to copy what the teacher was painting in front of me I would paint animals, and flowers, sometimes even getting the children to do the same as me. So that's why I got pulled out of the class only after a week I joined. But of course I didn't mind, because I never stayed in the same place for too long. Kind of like families. That's why, when I came of age, I went on my own, because that's how things have always been. Just me and my own thoughts, my own cooped up mind that I never have the guts to speak out loud.

I pry myself from my thoughts as I flip to the next record on my shelf, a frank Sinatra album catching my eye. If you can't tell, I like old music. I somewhat prefer it over new music, it just speaks to me more. And I've never been the one to have CD's, I don't even have a CD player. I walk over to my record player, slipping the record in, and setting the needle down on my favorite song.

But beautiful

A small smile forms around my face as the lyrics start to float around my apartment.

"Love is funny, or it's sad, or it's quiet, or it's mad

It's a good thing or it's bad

But beautiful"

I walk into the living room, mouthing the words to the song that I know every word to. Although I won't sing.

"Beautiful to take a chance, and if you fall, you fall.

And I'm thinking I wouldn't mind at all."

I start to take out supplies to make me dinner, something I do each night. As always.

"Love is tearful, or it's gay, it's a problem or it's a play.

It's a heartache either way.

But beautiful."

Every time I listen to this song it makes me wonder what it would feel like to be in love. Love contains every emotion possible. Happiness, excitement, sadness, heartbreak, and even more than that. That's why maybe I'm afraid of it, because you never know what's to come with love.

I believe in love, I do, because I know my mom and dad were in love. I know love exists, I know you can fall I love if you'd let yourself. I just don't think I would allow myself to, because I don't want to be broken again.

"And I'm thinking you were mine, I'd never let you go. And that would be beautiful I know."


I watched. And I know this sounds sort of creepy, but I watched the girl that I still don't know the name of. After a week of is living across from her, none if us have spoken to her again. She just seems so mysterious. Like there's so much about her, to where you can just sit there and listen to her talk to for hours about anything and everything. But she doesn't talk. And that's what makes it even more intruding. I see her go to work each day, to the library. Except for weekends. And on those days it seems like she stays in her apartment all day.

I've tried a few times to go knock on her door, but I loose my gut. I sit on the couch with louis, Niall in his room, watching tv. And I do t see why he's not out here with us since we are doing the exact same thing. It's probably because he's on the phone with Ariana, his so called 'best friend' that we have met several times. But we all know that they like each other. They haven't said it yet. I perk up as I hear a familiar song coming from the hallway. I recognize the song because my mum used to play it around the house. She loved frank Sinatra, & he kinda grew on me as well. As well as tony Bennett.

That's when I have an idea, hopping from the couch. Louis sits up, "what are you doing?" He asks as I pull out the records that I had brought along with me from home. Which is only just a few.

I don't answer him, a smile on my face as I head to the door. I shake my nerves out by wriggling my arms, still ignoring Louis questions as I slip out the door. The other times I've cone to talk to her, I've never had an excuse. But this is one.

The same song still plays, the song seeping under the door, and out into the hall for people to hear.

"And I'm thinking you were mine, I'd never let you go.

And that would be beautiful, I know."

I smile at the familiar lyrics, as I now stand In front of her door, the Tony Bennett record clasped in my hands. I nervously bring my hand up, knocking on the door softly. When I hear the music stop, my heart races, and when the door opens it almost pops out of my chest.

"H-hey." I stubble over words as she scans over me with her blue eyes, her face looking of pure curiosity.

"I heard you listening to music, and I though you'd like this." I tell her, handing the record with my clammy hand.

Her lips pull up in a shy smile as she takes it from me.

"Listen to number 7, it's my favorite." I add on. Her small grin grows a little wider at my words.

She nods her head, brown waves slipping across her face. When she waves goodbye to me, I smile like a fool, admiring her smile and rosy cheeks, before the wooden door blocks it from me.

Authors note: pretty please tell me what you think! You know the drill! Like, comment, & favorite! Thanks!!! Oh and does anyone know how to upload a profile pic?? I can't find it! Xxx -Emily

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