Diary of Secrets

Calum thought soccer was everything.....until he read Sam's diary.


9. She's Broken// October 8th

Why is it, that every morning after a party; everything's silent. The only sound I can hear is someone mowing their lawn, and the motor running as they let it sit. Looking over to my left, I see the sunlight streaking through an open window. Sighing I can feel my head throb, hear the blood pump in my ears. Swallowing down the urge to vomit, I breath out through my nose. I move my leg, stretching it out and hit something soft.

"What the hell?" I ask, with sleep still in my throat. Looking over to my right, I see a half naked girl with long brunette hair, lying next to me.

"Fuck." I mutter, rubbing my fingers over my forehead, while my thumb lies against my temple. How the hell did I end up in bed, with the girl I wanted more from? Yes, I was in bed with Regan. Muttering profanities in my mind, I shift to sit up on the side of the bed.

Grabbing the clothes that lie on the floor in front of me, I get dressed swiftly. Once I'm dressed, I hang my head in my hands. Letting my mind rest for thirty seconds, as I fight off the nausea hitting me. Getting up with my shoes in my hands, I make my way down the hall and through the large house, with drunken bodies lying all over sofas and the floor. As I step over another beer bottle, hoping not to wake anyone, I walk out the blue door into a cold morning.

Mentally kicking myself for not bringing a sweater or jacket, I rub my arms in the hopes of warming myself. Walking down the sidewalk toward my car, I sigh once more as I realize it's on the next block. I can't help but think of last night in spurts. Starting with the fight Sam and I had, over what; I'm still confused. Not long after that is when I ran into Regan again. I don't remember much of anything else, except the smell of strawberries and the taste of sweat.

I have no excuse as to why I did what I did with her. So I can't use one, but I hope this doesn't get awkward and I think it will. I'm not even sure what I would say if she texted me. If she does, I think I'll just pretend I didn't get it. It seems simpler that way, at least to me. But I want to know how I can fix whatever it is I broke between Sam and I.

The mower is quieter now that I'm almost to my car. I can see the blue paint job in the distance, as I stumble over my footing. There's not as many cars down the long suburban streets, as there was last night. Quite a few people must have went home before the dawn came. I realize to as I walk in my socks across the lawn, that it rained sometime in the night. My socks are now soaked and freezing my toes.

Unlocking my car, I get in still thinking about Sam.

"Fuck." I say low enough for me to hear. Setting my shoes on the passenger seat, I start the car and drive off. Maybe today's a good day to stake out the bridge. Driving slow down the rain slicked roads, I turn onto the main road that'll take me to a left turn, and onto the small road leading to the bridge. There's not too many cars on the road today, I assume it's because most everyone is sleeping or working already.

Turning onto the small road, I hear the rocks and leaves crunch under the weight of my tires. I drive until I see the clear opening, and then I park along side the woods. Sitting in the gray driver's seat, I stare out the windshield over the steering wheel. Dropping my hands into my lap, I stare down the small road. Sam and I drove the full length of it once.All it lead to was a broken down Chevy, rusted with years of rain and mother nature taking over. We stayed there the whole night, sitting inside on the weeds that caked the seats that were still there. That was two years ago, but today I still remember it like it was something we've done every day. I always will too, because that was the day we found Peep Toad Mill. From that day onward, we always met up at the old bridge. Whether it was to vent, or get away for a few hours. We were there for one another.

What did I do Sam? How can I tell you how sorry I am, what can I apologize for? Just give me something. Please. In the back of my mind, I keep thinking of new scars enveloped on her wrists. I don't want that. Dear God, please don't let that happen. Not to her, not ever.

I open my door, and while I sit in the driver's seat adjusting to the cold, I throw on my shoes. Not caring that my feet are still freezing, or that my laces aren't tied. As I tuck them away in the sides of my sneakers, I step out closing the door behind me. With a loud exhale, I begin walking over to the trail. With my hands in my jean pockets, I pretend the cold isn't seeping through my Green Day shirt. That I can't feel the wind blow it towards me, making it feel as though bits of ice hit my chest. It makes me think of being a child, reaching a hand out to grab a snowflake; not realizing that it'd melt in my hand. That feeling of when it lands in your palm, a burst of ice replaced with a cold water drop, that slowly turns warm in your hand.

By the time I see the bridge ahead, I'm basically numb. My toes are frozen, while my torso feels as though it's caked in icicles. My teeth chatter, while the leaves crunch beneath my feet. Straining my jaw, to stop the chattering, I trek forward. Looking ahead, I see a figure sitting at the pond. They're hunched over, facing the pond. But I can't make out who it is.

As I continue onward, they must hear me coming, because now they're scrambling their things together, and trying to run.

"Wait!" I call out. I sprint over to them, following the hooded figure into the forest. They seem small, but the jacket they wear suggests a bigger frame.

"Please! Wait!" I scream after them, dodging branches from dead trees. They may be small, but they're fast. I stumble uncontrollably, as my sneakers continuously try to fall off my feet.

I can't hear anything, except the sound of our feet smashing onto the leaves below us. An explosion of crunching, and snapping as twigs and fallen branches break under our weight. Breathing in, it smells like wet leaves and a sweet scent that seems familiar. It swims around me, engulfing itself in everything it passes. Fuck, what is it?

I try to pay attention to where I'm going, as I unconsciously see fallen leaves and gray dirt lying beneath dead logs, and overgrown bushes. There's so many trees. Every time I get close, I have to dash to my right, or left to avoid collision with tree trunks. My lungs are tightening from breathing in so much of this cold air. It hurts to breath or speak, as I scream out

"I want to help, stop!" but I lose my footing. I fall forward into a bush, my face taking the full brunt of it.

Groaning, I lift myself up. Taking care to not further injure myself. Looking up, I see the figure has vanished. Sighing lowly, I stand looking over myself. My arms are full of hairline scratches, and burs that are caked into everything. My clothes, hair, even my arms. I brush off as many as I can, hanging my head forward to run my hands through my hair, hoping I'm shaking out all the burs. I stand erect, looking around once more for the hooded figure. But like before, I see nothing but dead logs, fallen colored leaves, and bare trees surrounding the area.

When I make it back to the bridge, I see the brick not fully pushed in. It hangs from the hole, half on the rock ledge. Sitting next to it, I take it out and grab for the diary. Setting it on my lap, I let myself relax against the bridge. My mind racing with who this is, why I can't help them. I pleaded, yet they continued to run. How many times am I going to miss out, on helping the people I care about? Yes, I think it's safe to say, I care about whoever writes in this diary.

It's not about only talking to them anymore. I want to be their best friend, introduce them to Sam, Luke, Ashton and Michael. Take them with me to my soccer games, practice with them before the next game. Talk with them whenever, sitting up late on the phone till three am, letting them know; I'm there. Everything. I just want to know, that I still can do these things with them. That maybe it isn't too late.

I've thought about turning this in to the cops. But all I keep thinking about is Sam. I imagine, just like her, this person wouldn't want their business, put on display. Laid out for everyone to see. So I'll keep it to myself, until I can't anymore, 'til I can figure out who this person is, until the very last entry.

Another wind blows through, and I shiver. My teeth begin to chatter uncontrollably again. Groaning from frustration, I curl into myself more, in the hopes it'll help shield the wind. As I open the diary, I feel something hit my shirt. Looking down, I notice it's a blade. Carefully, I pick it up examining it. Looks like I really did catch them off guard this time. I stick it in my pocket and look for the newest entry.

Once I find it, I almost cry out. It's longer than the others, it's also got blood between the pages. Almost as if, the person shoved the blade inside the diary after cutting. So while the blade is clean, it was used. The blood that was once on it, now lays in the spine of the little black book. I skim through the pages, and the words are still eligible, just written on stained paper.

October 8th

I hate him. I fucking hate him. I know you can't answer me, but tell me this; am I a toy? Something that can be thrown around, played with, and used only to be tossed somewhere, when something or someone prettier comes along?! Because as it stands, that's exactly how I feel. But I'm not just any toy, no. I'm his toy. When his friends come over, I get stashed under the bed, so no one sees. When he needs his ego boosted? I get dug right out again. But my personal favorite? Is all the torn and broken pieces he's made through the years we've had each other. Sure. He's fixed me several times, more than I can count. But it doesn't fix the cracks, visible to the outside world. It doesn't shield the kink he's put in my armor.

I've never said or written that I hated someone before. It's always seemed so hurtful, cruel, unnecessary. Yet for the first time, I know I mean it. I hate Robin.

(What did he do? Fuck. He was what kept her together. How is she going to be able to hold on, now that she won't let him in anymore?)

Do you want to know what kills me? What further deepens the hole in my heart? Is that yesterday, he made me feel so loved. It was only four words, but they lit me up inside, like a candle inside a Jack-O-lantern. You know what he told me? 'I just need you.' Do you know how much that made me smile? It was what made me decide to go to that stupid party.

(She went to the party?! I have to stop reading. My mind tries to remember anything about the party. But I was so wasted for half of it, I can't think of anyone who sounded like this, or anyone who wasn't talking at all! I hit the rock ledge, ignoring the shooting pain that went up my arm. Not caring that it feels like my hand has shattered into several fragments.

I also can't help but think of how Robin used the same words I did. I dig out my phone, checking the last message I sent to Sam. Right there, 'I just need you.' with a smiley face attached. It can't be Sam though can it? Maybe it's just a coincidence, my mind forcing the pieces together, because Sam left me. I shake the idea out of my head, and check it off as coincidence. Before I'm reading again, and trying hard not to cry.)

I wanted so badly to be his. Everything seemed to be falling into place again, just like before. But history always repeats itself, and now here I sit, broken once again. The smile he gave her, the kiss I desperately longed for; all given to her. She told me. That's what fucking kills me. 'I bet I can get more from him, than you ever could. Just watch freak, I'll have him wrapped around my finger, by the end of tonight.' those were her last words to me. It was the main reason why I didn't want to go! But feeling hopeful, I went and had to see the whole thing go down.

He was no longer mine. She had gotten more from him, in the five minutes they exchanged words, than the years we'd been together. So here is where I sit. Blade at the ready, for when I carve seven new lines into my skin. Each one representing the years wasted with him. I should be careful though, I'm running out of room, maybe I can move down to my thighs. They'd be easier to hide, surely.

Or maybe, maybe I should just finally let go.


Release everything I've been holding onto.

(Fuck, please no!)

I could finally say, that things would look up for me. Right? They can't possibly get worse, with where I'm going. You know, the devil was an angel once too. I guess we can bond over the fact we're now broken outcasts, shunned out from the rest of the world. This pain used to hurt, now it's a dull pinch. A simple prick of the skin, like a needle injection. The burning afterwards, is what calms me. The butterflies in my stomach, fly away as I long to lie down into an eternal slumber, that no one can wake me from.

What hurts, is that my secret was almost brought to life. Made to lie there for Robin to see. He almost learned I love him. That would shatter me, faster than I could release my last breath. He shouldn't be aware of the secrets I hold. He might not care like he does, if he did know.

That's where it ends. The pen mark, sliding across the edge of the page. This is where I walked up. Maybe my coming here was a good thing. Maybe I saved her. For one more day at least. How can I save you from yourself, when I have no idea how to help the person I've known for years?

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...