b r o k e n | record { lacy

[hunter townsend]

Just one more drink
And then go to bed.
You stared at your glass
As I emptied my head.

It was another one of those nights at the Yellowstone cabin, beer and a live conversation. Tonight was one of those down nights; none of the boys felt like going out, so staying in was the only other option. However, it didn’t stop them from having their fun. A couple girls dotted the bunks; enjoying the free alcohol and watching each person make a fool of themselves in their game of ‘truth or dare’, actually, it was more appropriately named ‘dare’, because no one told the truth anymore. It was the game with a small twist, one person was the victim, one person came up with the dare, and the rest bet tequila shots on whether or not the person would do it. If you lost, you were one step closer to being the drunken kid in the corner. The game was only amusing to watch, which was what Hunter had taken to, lounging in his spot on the floor, his back resting against the cabin wall. He’d made a goal for himself to take a step back from drinking, but clearly that hadn’t subsided. The blond boy was still drinking; a beer nestled comfortably in his right hand. Every so often he’d lift the plastic cup to his lips, letting the liquid slide right down his throat.

The previous night had been pretty hectic, after almost getting caught by one of the counselors; they took their little party down to the lake. By that time a lot of the campers were pretty buzzed up, Hunter was getting there, but the motivation just hadn’t been there the past few days. He assumed it was a certain depression revolving around the familiar party spots at home, not that they didn’t party here, he just never felt like he was having fun. Danger was fun, breaking into the high school’s pool after hitting the clubs was the kind of fun he yearned for. Sneaking out didn’t seem to pose the rush it had when he’d first attended the camp. A lot of the guys felt that way, so they found ways to make their own trouble. Tonight was a scheduled down night, a night for simple fun, not that he was having any.

The seventeen year old silently watched the games unfold, one of the guys nearly falling as he struggled to get down from one of the bunks. The kid kept his balance for a moment, but once he reached for his beer, all of that was gone. He stumbled backward, falling directly beside Hunter, who didn’t budge. He only glanced in the kid’s direction, a smile crossing his lips, trying to put on a straight enough face to speak. “You good?” He questioned, holding back a laugh as the boy climbed to his feet, swaying a bit as he attempted to walk. He looked to be nothing more than fourteen, an age even he’d been drinking at, but his body took a hell of a lot better to it. He’d started drinking at thirteen, and was still going pretty strong. Anyone would tell him he’d once been an alcoholic, or still was, not that Hunter would believe them. He had his reasons for drinking, but it soon developed into pure fun, not so much a way to drown away all the pain. This kid was drinking for fun, something he wished he’d done at that age. He couldn’t remember half the nights of those couple years, including what he’d done, which was somewhat scary the more a person thought about it.

Sighing, the blond pulled himself to his feet, stepping over another camper curled up on the floor. He needed to clear his head, think for a little while. Weaving his way around the many people dotting the cabin, he pushed the door open, stepping out into the warm summer air. It smelled of pine, the cool mountain breeze washing over him. It was hard to believe everything outside could be so quiet, and inside the noise was almost overwhelming, though you couldn’t hear it out here. He dug into the pocket of his jeans, his fingers preparing to close around a pack of cigarettes, but they didn’t. Confused, he tried the other pocket… Nothing. “Shit,” He mumbled under his breath, rotating the lighter through his fingers. Someone had to have something inside, not that he wanted to go in search of them. Another sigh emitted from his lips, and his figure sunk back into the shadow of the cabin, his frame resting against the building. Now he remembered where they were; over the cliff and into some weeds. He’d made his best friend a promise not to smoke, and they’d thrown the pack from the cliff. He suddenly regretted it all, but a promise was a promise. It was a promise not to be broken, and he knew that. The bottle was lifted to his lips, the liquid slowly disolving his troubled soul.

(( ohohsee;; this sucks sooo bad, it shall get better, promise. ))

[lacey callahan.]

[click above]

She walked slowly, her eyes full of tears and her mouth clenched tight. Fists were loose, but her right hand grasped a small picture. This shouldn't have been such a big deal, and she can't just keep feeling for the guy. He was over, and he wanted to end it. So it had an ending. The only thing it lacked was Lacey's willingness for closure as such. Her mind wandered to his face, his gorgeous face always gaining her smile of approval. His own straight smile in return; Lacey thought she could hear her heart break in her chest as she plod across the brushy path, the night setting in and the darkness consuming the settings and drowning her once bright spirit. It had not been put out, but it was dim and barely visible anymore. This day hadn't been her favorite. In fact, it had been quite dismal in itself. Today was the day she remembered Avery Matthews.

ONE YEAR AGO; ". . . I don't . . ." a finger was pressed to her lips as the boy shook his head solemnly. "I don't expect you go understand. I expect you to move on." tears sprung to the girl's eyes once these words hit her ears, they burned her heart and seared her soul. The boy's eyes softened and he kissed her lips gently, he pulled away. "I have to go. Take care of yourself," he said, moving away from her and into the cabin. She turned around after ten minutes of hoping he'd come back out, and walked to her own cabins, tears tumbling down and onto the minerals of the ground. That night she dreamed of their memories together, and it pained her. She left the camp the next day, never to be heard of again by Brunswick. Before she left, she had slipped a note into Avery's cabin. It stated something all too simple. Three words that were tossed around far too much in so many cases. Things were hardly easy in this world of creation, and words were even harder to erase. That note held words that were far beyond explainable to anybody when true, but the human life chose to use them to define the essence of compassion. That note held words that were far more complicated than the human mind itself; yet they created it.

Snapping back to reality, Lacey found herself on the Yellowstone grounds. How she knew? The many figures that were in the distance, drinking for fun, perhaps. Maybe wallowing in the alcohol to ease the pain. This was something Lacey could hardly understand. Why would anybody pain themselves? Why not just try and toss the memories into the pits of the foot of the mountain, over the cliff they would fall, down down down. Just as the tears spilled down Lacey's face. She hated alcohol with a fiery passion. Straight edge was her way, and always would be most likely. Tonight, however, she was drunk of the pain. The agony she went through; maybe it wasn't worth his love. A sigh potruded from her mouth as she neared the cabin building. It was odd; the serene atmosphere of the outdoors, when inside was dotted with wasted teens just wanting the crazy life. Lacey could be crazy without the damn booze. She didn't notice the blonde, she noted that nobody was there and kept walking towards the cabins until she was within range of the cliff near it. She stopped, not caring to wipe the many tears that clung to her face despreately. She began to throw the picture over the cliff, but somebody whispered in the darkness, muttering perhaps. Lacey looked up to see a blonde boy, searching his pockets.

His face registered a sort of understanding of something. He didn't notice her yet, but Lacey looked at him with a downed face, flecked with drops of tears and dismal with cloudy mood. Her red hair was hard to miss in the day time, but a little less so in the night when the sun wasn't making the hair as bold as the sun itself. Her mind wandered to the picture in her hands. It was still clutched between her fingers. The boy leaned into the shadows, but not before Lacey got a good look at him. He was handsome, his blue eyes longing for something he couldn't have. Blonde locks were what he called his own. A face carved by the angels themselves, perhaps. It was no lie that the boy was gorgeous. Lacey began to think; she could simply throw the picture over the cliff anyways. That would raise an immense amount of questions. But if she simply tucked the picture away, there would be less or no questions. She took the ladder of the decisions and shoved the crinkled paper-like picture into her pocket, the two figures still identifiable; one with plain red hair, the other dark brown. Lacey and Avery. Now, of course, things had changed; back then she was only 16. Now she was 17. He was 19, and he was now 20. Things had changed immensely. The picture itself was very wrinkled, and the date was a year or two ago. It was loved by Lacey, but it was a memory that had to be destroyed.

Lacey frowned a bit, and turned to the boy. Maybe he wouldn't notice her, but Lacey knew he had seen her try to throw the picture over the cliff. She knew that the tears were visible, and she knew that her eyes were red and puffed when she had been crying. She knew that she'd have to face his questions; but until then, she would let more tears spill. Her eyes wandered off across the wide vast of bottomless cliff and to the other side of the mountains. More tears fell down, visible and crystal like, the moonlight sparkling off of them. The boy would ask questions. . .but Lacey asked herself a question she knew she had no answer to. Her mind was wandering back to the flashback she had earlier. The one of her departure from the memories here at Brunswick. That note held those words that she hadn't spoken since then; she was so afraid of them. Maybe she'd have to overcome them later. The words crossed her mind; I love you.

[hunter townsend]

Call it what you like,
but you know you want to admit.

The night had started like any other one in the Yellowstone cabin, quiet and mellow. The staff and counselors were watching them like hawks, waiting for the moment that one might happen to step out of line. It was a favorite thing to look for in many staff members, including one he happened to dislike the most, partly because she hung around their cabin all the time, and party because she happened to find him the perfect target. Hunter wasn’t an angel, by far, but she seemed to think he’d make the perfect poster child for a living devil. Each time he stepped out of the cabin, he was questioned, one time actually pursued as he made his way to the showers. This woman happened to be taking her shift on walking the grounds when Hunter decided upon taking his nightly run. His goal had been to have a little peace and quiet, which a guy didn’t get very often while living in Yellowstone. The constant chatter of excited boys always got overwhelming, especially to a boy who was used to a large house where no one even spoke a word. Home was much different from here, and he liked that, but once things got on his nerves he needed to find a way to expel that frustrated energy. Running had been his prime choice for that evening. So, he’d head out, his sneakers grinding up the dirt, grass, and gravel as he made a couple rounds around the grounds. Mistake. He’d run right into her, literally. Darkness had washed over them, and had gotten the best of Hunter’s eyesight. After a quick spat about how he shouldn’t be ‘disturbing the entire camp’ at such hours, mind you it was only about eight, she insisted that she walked him back to the cabin.

Anyone who got to know Hunter’s true personality knew that he was a very sweet guy, and you’d be grateful to have someone like him to talk to. Staff and counselors never seemed to get that about him, and immediately wrote him off by his appearance and previous actions. So what if his past was filled with some skeptical activities, none of which were proven to have been committed by him, he was still a gentleman, whether you liked to believe it or not. The boy had his moments, and when he wanted to be, he could be a real asshole. However, it never stopped anyone from getting to know him better in the past, so why should everything be held against him? His father had pushed him into coming here his first year, and he’d probably said some things about his son that weren’t so desirable. Mr. Townsend liked to brag, but something always told him that he liked to warn people as well, as though he was around to watch all the crimes unfold. Well, he wasn’t. If his father hadn’t brought up all the bad points about him, he’d surely bring up some of the more… Townsend related aspects. For example, the fact that Hunter held one of the most impressive records in high school basketball as of his senior year, or perhaps the fact that his family was loaded with money. Leave it to his father to bring that up, because you could always get someone wrapped around your fat little finger when money was practically handed to you on a silver platter. That was true, and Brunswick did their money from the entire Townsend family, because his father always wrote a decent sized check to the camp for ‘changing’ his son. You’re probably thinking, yeah right, because you’d be right. Hunter Townsend didn’t exactly go around changing.

So, the woman had walked him back to the cabin, and thankfully he was glad they hadn’t had too far to go. Hunter disliked any form of reprimand; it always made him want to defy the rules even more, as if there was any rule against heading out for an eight o’ clock run, anyway. However, he’d been on his absolute best behavior, smiling brightly whenever appropriate. One thing about a Townsend, you could never turn down their smiles. Always gorgeously perfect, and so pearly white you could almost see them gleam in the moonlight, you simply couldn’t hate them forever. Like always, his charm had worked, and the woman had softened a little bit, perhaps getting to know the real him, not the outer layer everyone seemed to judge so harshly.

He’d quietly returned back to the madness, glad to have rid the sour women from returning to the cabin. After a quick shower he rejoined the group. The guys were each in their own bunks, staring at the ceilings while they talked. Here was chatter about girls, new counselors, staff, and always a favorite, gossip about their hometowns and schools. Hunter particularly favored that area, because it was something he could relate to, and honestly, he loved hearing about other people’s problems, even though he didn’t know the guy/girl being mentioned. As usual, he felt the need to breathe a bit, get some fresh air, and hopefully escape the loud talking of the other guys. So, here he was, standing there in the shadows.

He hadn’t picked such a spot, it had just come so easily, and he found himself accustomed to resting against something while he stood. Looking out at the vast wilderness, he took to thinking, just as he’d done so many times before looking out at the stars and natural beauty of the woods. Something caught his eye, movement. The glimmer was still there, a bright spark of interest as he looked on. Just by seeing, he could guess the figure was upset, or maybe that was just a natural position. Their shoulders were slightly slumped, as any person’s would be if they were in a bad mood. He continued observing, just watching the shadow from where he stood. Possibly he’d come to approaching, but that would come later, once he got a better understanding to whom it might be. Even though he was quite the social person, it didn’t mean he’d be up to just walking up to the figure, it would definitely be less awkward if he could wait it out.

The figure turned to face the cliff, and then seemed to throw something, a lot like he high that night at the peak. His only pack of cigarettes went down the drain, unused and wasted. He was grateful for that, something he’d been working at quitting ever since his brother passed, but hadn’t succeeded. Maybe this was overcoming it, because he felt it, the craving was gone, or maybe it was just his interest that was keeping it away. The form turned to face his direction, and that’s when he could make out all physical traits. It was definitely a girl, one with fiery colored hair, the hue of the sun itself. She had a unique aura about her, just the way she stood, the way she seemed to carry herself. Possibly that was just her mood, but it was something. She was pretty in her own way, or so the moonlight gave way, surely one that would capture his interest, even in the daylight.

He could sense she knew he was there, the perfect opportunity for him to approach her. The night was boring; a conversation of some sort might brighten things up. Pushing off the side of the building, he was revealed to the light again, proceeding toward the girl standing at the edge of the cliff. A tight fitting graphic t-shirt hugged his torso, revealing a physically fit build, compliments of all the basketball he played at home. A pair of slightly ripped jeans hugged his waist, perfecting the simple nightly outfit. As he grew closer, moisture became more noticeable as it dotted her cheeks, the first sign that she’d been crying, or still was. Hunter was never one very good at comforting, but the least he could do was try. Sighing quietly, he halted a few yards to the side of her, leaving her some space, but enough to where they could still talk. His gaze drifted out over the cliff, not wanting to be intimidating by watching her steadily. “Ridding your troubles?” He asked nonchalantly, gesturing to what was in her hand, what he suspected she’d attempted to throw, but seeing him had held her back. “Makes you wonder how much of it’s down there,” His voice was calm, gentle for a change, possibly almost reassuring. For a guy that wasn’t very good at comforting, he was doing pretty well.

[lacey callahan.]

She caught the picture as it tried to flutter down to the depths of the pit, and tucked it quickly into her pocket, wrinkling it and possibly tearing it. The boy came over, his look curious and Lacey couldn't help but wonder if he was drunk. He wasn't intimidating, because Lacey knew she could fight. Even if he tried to over-power her, he probably couldn't. Anyways, he came over anyways. He seemed to walk in a perfectly straight stride, even if he did have a beer in his hands. She stayed, her limp figure slouchig a little. She straightened up and cleared her throat as he approached her with the questions she had preddicted he would ask. She didn't know how to answer, he seemed to know what she was doing. She didn't know why, because she usually didn't feel for 'those drunk Yellowstones', but he had a certain glow about him that told her he was okay.

"Yeah. . .I guess." she replied, wondering if he saw her save the picture from fallin. "I just wish I could get rid of it for good." her voice was calm, stretch beyond its usual potential. She had been crying for some time, and now her voice was whispery and cracked. Stretched beyond the usual capacity of sound. He made a very factorial statement that made her even more surprised he belonged to the Yellowstone Cabins. "Yeah, it does doesn't it." she contemplated this statement. 'It makes you wonder. . ' she was thankful he had said this, and suddenly greatful that she had put the picture back where it was before instead of over the cliff. "I don't think I want my memories to rot down there. I'd rather them rot somewhere special." she wasn't making much sense, and her voice still gave off a stretched, whispery tone. She closed her mouth and pursed her lips, taut with the thought he had just given her. What did lie down in those seemingly endless depths? What was at the bottom? Possibly more than just rotting memories. It made her want to possibly through herself over the cliff. She steppd closer to the edge. What did she haev to live for anyways? She thought again and sighed, looking over the cliff. "Maybe I should just jump." she said this more audibly than she meant and sighed again. She had to do something with this mess she called her life. Maybe it was best she just ended it. Found out where all those memories went. She knew that she wouldn't do it, but she possibly wanted to scare him just a little. Test the limits of his comfort. She shook slightly in the cold, her jacket not with her in this night. Her life was cold now, and she felt shameful of herself.

Why was she even alive? Because, her parents cared. She wished they didn't, sighing slightly before shivering again in the nippy breeze. She wondered when it was going to rain? It should've rained today; it would match her dismal mood. It had been a horrible day. She spent most of the day alone, just crying and thinking of how her life should be. Her heart was probably torn into so many pieces it may not be taped together again. Who knows, but when she looked over at the boy she was suddenly a little comforted. She stepped forward again, sort of teasing the boy into thinking she were thinking about jumping. Who knows, maybe she was thinking about doing it.

[hunter townsend]

I'm the filthy one on Bourbon Street, you walk on by
I'm the little boy that pushes, pushes, makes him cry.

Hunter hadn’t spotted her catch the picture, he just assumed whatever she’d been holding it was long gone by now. Plenty of people did it, it was just another way of ridding some anger, but in the end it just made you want it back. He’d thrown a bunch of things down there, and he’d always found himself wanting them back once they were gone. Like the old saying went, “You don’t realize what you have until it’s gone,” that was completely true. It was no way to take all his anger out, and his possessions really didn’t deserve the treatment they got from him. He glanced back to the girl, looking down at the beer in his hand, figuring that that was what she’d been looking at when he’d approached. A lot of the Yellowstone’s had a bad reputation when it came to alcohol, but Hunter wasn’t one of them. When you’d been drinking since you were thirteen, alcohol didn’t bother you, well, at least beer didn’t. Matter of fact, this was his first drink of the night, and he’d only taken two sips from the bottle.

The blonde nodded lightly, taking another step forward to look over the edge, slightly surprised at how large the drop was, but the emotion didn’t register on his face. Whatever was down there probably was wanted back, just like all the things he’d thrown. Her next comment came quickly, an understanding half smile crossing his lips. “You never can, memory is a tricky friend to have,” He responded, knowing exactly how tricky memory could be. Even when you didn’t want to remember something you always did, it was like the weather, you knew it was going to happen, and couldn’t control or prevent it. This time he allowed himself to look over at the girl, sensing that didn’t feel at all uneasy about his presence. Her voice sounded weathered, like she’d been crying for a while, but he didn’t bring anything of the sort up. The best medicine was always a distraction, or so he always thought. His previous vocals made him think, did all campers throw something down there? Was it like some secret burial for special memories you just wanted to erase? He sighed, content with the thought for a moment. Sometimes he wished it were he down there, all in pain and wonderment. Every time you said that’s who you’d be, the kid who actually jumped, you weren’t. No one had the courage, life was just too important. He’d rather create pain in some other way, or maybe just not make himself miserable at all, why not enjoy life? He was pulled abruptly from his thoughts, her words hitting him harshly, the concept just registering in his mind. He shook his head lightly, nudging a rock over the edge, trying to see how far the drop might be. You could hear the quiet tone of sticks and leaves crackling, but after a moment or two more it drew silent. Either it kept on going, or it stopped at the bottom, wherever that was. “It’s not worth it,” He said finally, shifting his gaze toward the sky for a moment. “Once you’re up there, or whatever, you’re going to be wanting a redo.”

Even Hunter was a bit cold in the midsummer breeze, goose bumps forming on his forearms. It was a rarity to ever see him chilled, being cold just wasn’t an option, there were better things in life to worry about than that. He should know, he’d spent one too many days sitting on the balcony in the cool air, overlooking all of London, the lights dotting the city. Those were the days when the insomnia started, about seven years old, and then he was named a night owl for life. It was nice, though, watching all the lights go out in the entire city, and yours was the last one. For once, it made him feel special, like his grandma would always tell him, that he was the prince of England. A prince’s light always went out last, because once the rest flickered black, you knew your duty was done.

[lacey callahan.]

She glanced down to the bottomless pit of the cliff, wondering where it ended. The beginning was apparent, and the end was annonymous. Down the object would go, and down her fate would be. It would rise in death with every millisecond she fell. The brush would cloud her fall at first, and then she might pass out. Maybe she wouldn't. Thinking of the sickening crack her body would create almost had her shudder. Instead, she shivered slightly in the cold. She looked at over the ledge again and wondered how many times people threw their own personal belongings down there. Lacey herself had once thrown a cellular device down there, since it had nothing but Avery and Lacey pictures on it, happy and smiling. Avery sometmies biting Lacey's hair, chewing on it playfully. She then regretted it later, wishing she would've written the contacts down first.

Somehow she wished her memories would be gone. She didn't want them to stick with her; why did people have memories if they were going to cause pain? They shouldn't. Angry at this thought, Lacey kept her eyes on the pits of the cliff, wondering if it even ended. Maybe it went on forever. What was life anyways? Did it even matter if you lived or died? Of course, it might all just be nothing to anybody. Maybe you didn't matter to the world at all. Just maybe you didn't need to live. Shaking these horrible thoughts from her mind, Lacey took another step forward, nearly at the edge and looked over fully. She shivered slightly at the drop, the branches of shadow reaching out and waiting to sear your skin. You may not know what was happening, and she doubted you would even care if you got cut. Falling all that ways. . .

Sometimes Lacey wondered. If it were so important to stay alive, then why was there so much pain? Of course, this was probably just like the question before, of the 'why memories'. Memories are what make up our hearts, our feelings, and our future. They are the threads that pull together to create our lives, our past, our future. Still, sometimes you can pick a thread out and toss it away. In this case, the object was the thread, being tossed down through the dark depths of dismality. She looked towards the boy as he spoke to her. "I know what you mean." she said, almost scoffing at him for saying something so obvious. Memory was a very tricky thing to have. But what would you do without it? Live without a memory. Live in forgetfullness. You would be lost. Nobody would save you, because everybody would be the same. Lost; in the dark about who you were, who you loved, and what your life was. If you didn't have memories, you didn't have the nessacary material to live your future. She sighed at this variable in the equation of life, and looked back to the boy.

"Life is too precious," a small smile placed on her lips, her voice still stretched to its limit. She contemplated his words, but that was all she said. Life is too precious, and how true it was. You had to make the best of it, and prove yourself or you wouldn't live to the potential you could. The full potential of life. Lacey liked this thought, and somehow it made it seem easier to get over Avery now. It was a minor bump in the road, but oh how she had loved him. With all her heart, she would've died for that boy. Still, that was over now, and nothing could change it. All regrets and now action, it would have to be that way forever. Or would it? Either way, Lacey was getting wary of standing right on the edge of the cliff. She backed away slightly, but her foot slipped. A small yelp left her lips as she flailed in the air for a moment, the rocks moving beneath her feet. She fell hard, slipping off the edge. Her hand grasped something; a thing twig on the ground. Still, her body was flung over the edge, the only thing holding her from the fall was the twig. She didn't care, as long as it was keeping her from falling down. So there she hung on for her life, not sure if the boy would care to help. She was dangling off a cliff's edge, what would you do? She hoped it was her imagination when she heard something start to crack, and she tried not to look down. She did, of course, and saw the depths. The depths of death. She struggled to try and pull herself up, but the branch cracked even more so than it had before. Her toes balanced against the wall slightly, and found an edge to support some of her weight. "Help." was all she could muster as she clung for her life, hoping she wouldn't have the same fate as her memories would have.

OHOHSEE, I wanted something exciting to happen. :] I tried to make it as least dramatic as possible, so she's not going to die or anything. It may seem like it, but she's not. But she is hanging onto a branch. With her toes on a ledge. Over the cliff. Which isn't a good sign at all. xD

[hunter townsend]

Death was a definite if one ever fell from such a height. If it wasn’t just the height that killed you, or the instant impact when you hit the ground, it would be everything on the way down. Sticks and stones could do more than just break your bones; take it from someone who’d been pretty accident-prone his entire life. Wherever trouble was, there was always Hunter. He seemed to gravitate anywhere something dangerous was, even as a kid. He’d broken his ankle at four years old when he jumped from the very top of their stairs in their house, and had landed wrong. However, that was nothing compared to this. If one lived, you’d surely not be able to move. He’d rather die than live as a vegetable, or paralyzed to the point he felt useless. He wasn’t the type of guy who just sat back and did nothing, he liked to be needed, and if he couldn’t do anything, then his will to live was definitely gone.

Memory was just plain painful for him, even more than the memory of anything else he’d ever experienced. His most vivid memory was of the day his brother died, the day he was shot to his death. It’s funny how you could remember everything about the day, what you wore, what time in the morning you got up, what you ate for breakfast… Everything. He’d never gotten over the fact that he was the one who was supposed to die that night, but Christian had spoken up, and the guy moved the gun a fraction of an inch, and then fired. His brother was dead because of him, he’d said some things to get the guys angry, even though Chris had owed the guys some money in the first place. Hunter had had the money saved up, if he’d known they’d needed it right there and then, he would’ve brought it. He’d of done anything to save his brother’s life.

Life was so important to him after that day, he just decided to live like the two of them planned. He knew his brother was tagging along in every adventure he had, and he could almost hear him laugh, almost see him standing there next to him, smiling that trademark Townsend smile. What would he do or say when he found out that his girlfriend’s little boy was growing up? What would he say to Hunter if he could? Thoughts constantly swarmed his mind, and he felt himself wishing the familiar black haired boy was there beside him. He still couldn’t imagine going off to college without him. They’d planned on going to the same college, spending their days having nothing but fun, living life like everyone dreamed of doing. They had once talked of road tripping the entire country once, but how was he supposed to do that without him? He would, because he knew his brother would want him to. They’d imagined sitting in the familiar black 1967 Chevy Impala, revving the engine, and bolting down country roads, winding through city streets. They’d had so much planned, and now it was gone.

The male nodded in agreement, a half smile forming at the thought of his brother, but it quickly faded. You could be anything you wanted to be, and you could make anything you wanted out of your life, it was just a matter of going for it. He’d go on without his brother, making his parents proud, living up to everything the boy set forth. He’d go to college, study in a Business Management major, and become the author he’d always wanted to be. He’d create his own business, a successful one, preferably a club to blow all of Maine away. He would’ve died for his brother, and he almost did. Another fraction of an inch and that bullet would have killed him. Except it didn’t, he was given another chance at living life, making his parents notice him for the right things, not just that he got himself into a fight the previous day. He wanted to be known for something besides Christian Townsend’s little brother who can play one hell of a game of basketball. He wanted to be known as Hunter, not just a sidekick that always came along with the superhero’s name.

The boy glanced to her as she took a gradual step back from the edge, near where he was standing. He hadn’t thought anything of it, really. The moment he saw her height decrease, he made a grab for her, dropping the bottle that had been in his hands. She slipped past his grip, a concrete feeling settling in his stomach. Losing one person in his life was plenty he certainly couldn’t afford another. She wasn’t going to die on his watch, even though he’d just met her, and actually, he didn’t even know her name. Instinct kicked in, and he immediately took hold of the trunk of a tree growing on the edge of the cliff. Reaching toward her hand, he extended his arm, acting quick just incase whatever she was holding on to decided to give away. For a moment he thought it was before he even got there, because he heard it snap slightly. Straining, he managed to get his fingers around her wrist, gripping tightly. Hunter was a strong guy, anyone could see that, it was just a matter of trusting him, and that just depended on you as a person. “Let go,” he instructed, knowing it would be a lot easier If he got a head start on lifting her up, rather than having the branch snap and all the weight forced on him. He forced himself to be calm, it was going to work out.

[lacey callahan.]

She was filled with doubt before this. All her memories, she wanted them to disappear. To go away and to leave her alone to make new ones. Now, however; she was clinging to a cliff for her life. If the memories were to be emptied now, she would have nothing to hold on to. Sure, maybe she would remember this time, wherever she went. Maybe that kid was right, you'd be wanting a redo. A faint smile was placed in her mind, her lips too frozen to display it. It's funny, twenty years from now, if she's alive and well, Lacey would remember this whole thing. What she ate that day, how the air played in her hair, the boy's smile. His kind, comforting words. Even what she wore. Your worst memory became the most livid, and it was this that she hated most. As he said, memory was a tricky friend to have. It would always been in the back of your mind, the most tragic and desperate event of your life. It would always be there to haunt you, to make you uncomfortable and to kill your happy moods. Still, it was something we cannot stop, and even if it means a happier life in the end, Lacey was all for the bad memories.

Lacey never really had any tragic life. She hated it too; why did her parents care? But she'd look back and at some of her friends; how cruel their lives had treated them, and how filthy their own parents were. How disgusting and vile their memories had to be. How happy could they be? How truly wonderful could their life get if it was filled with nothing but itching despair? This is how a certain Lacey was always a great friend. She wanted to be able to show them all how great life could actually be. It didn't have to be all about dwelling on the lost elation, but something more than that. A friendship that was stronger than any relationship could be. Thinking back on all those friends; it just made her realize how lucky she was to have a family. She didn't know this boy's past, but it was the one's with tragedy that were always kind. He would give his own life for somebody he barely knew; if she fell, he would be responsible for her death. Whoever this boy was, he was a kind and soulful spirit. For this she was glad.

Hanging there was something that Lacey had to take into consideration. Did she really want to fall down to her death? The depths of a cerrtain perishing would be the answer to her equation. The one she fell victim to an almost impossible way. She loved life, but at the moment it wasn't treating her well. Not well at all. Her eyes squeezed shut, she pictured what her family had given her. Her friends, her memories. She wanted them to go away just a few moments earlier, and now she clung to them as if hopeless to see them again. Lacey did not want this punishment. Then the boy, to her half-suprise, moved towards her in a swift motion as if he had been taken over by his superhero ego, and reached to her hand. The branch kept cracking, and he wanted her to let go. Let go? Did she want to do that? She had just met this guy, and she didn't even know his name. Well, if he dropped her, he dropped her. Death was an option she was willing to take to save her own life. She squeezed her eyes closed, nodded once, and let go.


OHOHSEE, sorry it took so darn long and doesn't make much sense. i'm going through a 'get back into roleplaying again' phase. i haven't done very many long posts lately, so i'm trying to stretch my ideas again. i'll get better. feel free to powerplay with getting her up. :]

[hunter townsend]

Hadn’t this been what the Townsend boys were always famous for? Always doing stupid things at the expense of someone else, it was just the moment when the person took advantage that he’d let you hang out there and die… Well, not really. Hunter went as far as he knew he could go, and id he hadn’t felt confident about being able to get this girl up, he probably wouldn’t have bothered. He’d of tried, but the sense of knowing he was probably going to fail would have killed him first. Being a sensitive guy when it came to the fact of life or death, he was always willing to step up and play the part as some kind of superhero in the eyes of the other. He wasn’t looking for recognition, or the pride of knowing he’d saved the person, he just cared that he/she was living. Wasn’t that what you were put on this earth for? If you weren’t going to make something out of your own life, you had to help someone with theirs. Everyone needed some help every once in a while, and this seemed to be one of those moments. She was scared to death, most likely, just as he’d been when that gun had been pointed straight at him. He knew the feeling of having a short period to live, and you just wanted someone to take your hand and lead you from the darkness. His brother had been there for him, and he was going to be there for this girl.

Even if he hadn’t had the experience with death, he knew he’d have done the same thing. Could someone possibly so heartless as to leave someone hanging by a thread on the edge of a cliff? You’d be remembered as the guy who left her there to die, and no one wanted that. He didn’t know anything about her, where she came from, her name, or her history… Nothing. It was simply instinct that had brought him to the edge of the cliff, making a grab for her again, desperately determined to succeed. In a moment like this, you’d be glad to have someone like Hunter on your side helping you out. An image of the gun flashed before him, the blood, the small smirk on the guy’s face when he’d turned to bolt from the scene. Pushing the image from his mind, the blonde boy focused on this moment, his attention forced on keeping himself calm, but underneath the surface he was a nervous wreck. Having complete confidence in yourself was one thing, but knowing that if you made one mistake this girl was done for, and he’d probably end up in the same jail cell he’d been in those times before. Times. Yes, he had a certain criminal record in the States and overseas, but that didn’t mean anything now.

No one wanted to die, not even the most insane person on this entire earth. You simply wanted a way to rid all the pain away, and for suicidal beings, it seemed to be the last resort. Anyway, he wouldn’t be the one to kill this girl, if she wanted to die, she’d make a point to do it herself. Hunter’s grip tightened around the tree he’d been holding onto, making sure they both weren’t going to be plummeting to their deathbed. His fingers clasped around her wrist, his muscles tightening, prepared for her to let go as he’d instructed. There seemed to be a pause of hesitation, but just as he’d expected, she let go. He held her weight with ease, his eyes darting down to her for a moment, but then focused on a still object, ensuring that he wouldn’t lose his balance when he began pulling her up. Sharply inhaling, his muscles flexed as he began to lift her weight, suddenly feeling the strain on his shoulder. His jaw clenched in a determined manner, and then put in the extra effort to finally pull her up. He was forced to take a stumbling step backward to regain his balance, but just as he’d hoped, her feet were firmly planted on the ground.

Ohohsee;; Ick, mine sucks too, no worries.

[lacey callahan.]

Breathing heavily, it all happened quickly. Lacey was short, and weighed almost nothing. It was times like this that she loved herself for not eating all that much. She wasn't one of those girls obsessed with their weight, but she had a fear of becoming fat, and she wouldn't stand for it. Anyways. She was standing, feet firmly planted and her heart almost stopped. She closed her eyes, took a few steps forward, and fell into the boy's arms. She rested her head on his chest. "I was so scared. . ." she breathed to him, tears springing to her eyes. She needed to hug him, she needed to cling to somebody. The boy didnt' even know her name, and yet he had saved her life. Lacey wasn't sure she'd do the same for him. But somebody so cold hearted at times had to certainly have some catches about her. Lacey's one, was that she didn't feel anything for the almost-dead. If somebody was dying, she'd give him the last shot and just kill him on the spot. There was no use into clinging so something that was already gone. Lacey's tears fell on his shirt, and she didn't want to let go.

Though she may have looked like an idiot, she was more than greatful. He was an angel that came to save her. It may sound a little cheesy, but that's how Lacey had looked at it. A blessing in the form of the judged boy Lacey had taken for granted. Standing there and crying on him was the only thing she wanted to do. Avery was past her mind at first, but when she had a flashback of this same crying deal with Avery, she spilled more tears. If it hadn't been for him, she might haven't of even gotten herself into this. But that's what life was all about, wasn't it? Chain events to lead up to a vivid memory you would always be haunted with. This was certainly a memory that Lacey wasn't going to let go of. Nor was the boy's face, or his warmth on her cheek. Lacey didn't even take into consideration of what he might do. They didn't even know eachother's names, for goodness sake. Still, it felt like she had known him a lifetime.

Lacey kept her cheek on his warm, deeply heaving chest. She sobbed lightly once, breathing slightly. "Thank you. . ." she said to him, not moving her position but simply comforted by his presence. She had lost all sense of respect for his personal space, and later she would hope he wouldn't freak out, if he hadn't already. Still, she needed this right now. She had almost lost her life, and she had thought to tease him with jumping? How cruel could somebody be to somebody like this blonde boy. She didn't know her past, or where she came from, but she knew that he had saved her, and right now that was all that mattered to her. She thought back to many times where she wished she could die, and the only other life threatening thing. Nothing compared to this moment was a life-death threat. She felt like she was in a movie, and it seemed all so dramatic; somehow it fit together like a puzzle. One piece next to the other, next to the other. Until it all made sense, and the picture came together. The image of that long drop came to her mind. Nothing would ever make her want to die again. So there she was, clinging to a stranger, hugging him, and coming to realization. Life was too precious.

[hunter townsend]

If it had been his other arm he’d been attempting to pull her up with, that pain and silent struggle wouldn’t be there. It had been one simple accident that had crushed full use of the right shoulder, a football accident, to be precise. He’d always been great at the sport, but one too many throws and a hard sack made him end his career with a torn rotator cuff, and one pretty messed up shoulder. Refusing therapy, the pain came back every so often in repetitive throws and pulling, which happened to be the case now. The pain was there, but it had lessened since the weight was taken off the shoulder. He sighed, rubbing the muscle for a moment to soothe it, drawing his hand back as she fell into him. He was mildly surprised, but the girl nearly lost her life, of course she was going to need some comfort. Hunter wasn’t exactly the best guy for the job, being that he really didn’t know how to handle such a reaction. He didn’t mind at all, he just had to find a way to be comforting… When he really wasn’t. “It’s okay…” He whispered the words he’d always longed to hear, have someone to tell him things were going to be all right, even when things seemed so bad. So he stood there, being the person he’d always wished was there to just cling to. Relaxing, he allowed himself to just hold her, comfort her.

Countless times as a child had he gone for someone to just hold him, tell him whatever it was he’d been afraid of was gone, and it was all right. How must this girl feel right now? She’d nearly died, fear had to be just lingering, a sense of hopelessness filling her body. Of course she needed some time to recuperate, find a way to make herself feel at ease. Maybe this was her way of doing that, letting all the tears flow, and just having someone to hold onto. He was glad he’d been there at that point in time, he was glad she’d lived through it, he didn’t really know why, but he was happy. Would the same thing have happened even if he weren’t there? The boy could only wonder, and he did. Maybe someone else would have been there with her, another knight in shinning armor to save the princess, but who knew. It wasn’t as though any of it was planned, he just happened to be there at the right place at the right time.

Hunter’s breathing quickly returned to normal, having had quite the scare there when she’d fallen. He glanced down toward her as she spoke, smiling gently. “No problem,” He responded, the warm smile remaining. Was it even necessary to thank the person who saved your life? It wasn’t like he was just going to stand there and watch her die, but the more he thought about it he assumed it was probably the least she could do, not that he even wanted anything in return. His gaze then drifted toward the stars, brightly lighting the sky. He’d always wondered if his brother was watching, smiling down upon him when he did something right. This would have been a better time than ever to be looking on, because he was slowly following in his brother’s footsteps. Christian had saved his life, and Hunter was only passing the trait on. It was just like a Townsend boy to doing something completely dangerous, and of course, all without thinking. It made him smile, that was his sense of accomplishment, something he’d most likely never forget.