Chapter 1:

(i) Remarkable.

My boyfriend

always 

says that

I

saved

him.

The fact is that it was the

other way round.

He

saved

me.

A chance meeting

on a staircase

was 

all

it took.

All I could do

in that case

was

stare

and

stare

and

stare.

He was so

beautiful.

No.

He

is

so beautiful.

But that day on the stairs

made the world turn

on its axis.

Fish 

fell

out of the

sea

and into the

sky.

Clouds drifted

down

or 

up 

and they got wet 

with the

waters.

The sun

and the 

moon

disappeared,

because all there was

was

him.

He's my sun,

my moon,

my stars.

A star.

He thinks it took

me a long

time

to realise

I

loved

him,

I 

needed

him,

I 

wanted

him.

But the

truth

is that I was

afraid.

Maybe

I didn't 

know

it then, but I

know

it

now.

It's a strange thing,

fear.

It holds you back

and

shelters you,

keeps you

safe,

all at the same

time.

I wasn't 

single

when I met 

the boy

with the

sad,

blue

eyes

and the

tear

stained

cheeks.

I was in an

unhealthy relationship

with

fear.

It took a

bird

of

darkness

and the 

end of a 

life

to give 

me

my beginning,

our

beginning.

A voice 

in the

darkness

called out to

me

and the

veil

lifted and I could

see again. 

I saw what I

knew

and 

fear

fought to

keep me,

the first time

anyone

or

anything

had fought

for 

me and

I

didn't

want it.

I broke 

free

of my

chains

that day and

like the bird,

I flew.

With spread wings

I flew

into

open

arms

and he

embraced me

in ways that

no one

else ever had.

Out of the darkness

came the light.

It brought an end to a fight.

It brought me back to life.

It was mostly him

and some of me,

but it was only ever me

because of

him.

(ii) Broken.

Before I ever

broke

free,

they

broke 

me.

(iii) Altered.

The homeliest gal

in all them hills.

That's what they called her,

Sadie,

that is.

Desperate.

That's the first word I 

thought

when I read about

Sadie Hawkins

and her 

need

to find a 

husband.

Desperate.

Maybe I was

desperate, too.

Boys

like

me

didn't go to

dances

and much like the women

who raced for the

men who ran from them,

I tried to change things,

just as they tried to

change

the men.

It was

never

about

romance.

It was about

change,

acceptance,

need,

want,

desperation.

It was about taking those

first

steps.

It was

fear

again,

taking 

me.

I 

wanted

to prove that I wasn't so

different,

that I could go to a 

dance,

like everyone else.

See, 

Dad?

I can do 

all the things

Cooper can.

I couldn't.

The night was 

calm.

I was not.

The stars were 

nervous.

They shuddered in the 

cool 

air.

Breathe in,

breathe out.

I can do this.

I couldn't.

I didn't

dance

at the

dance.

I told myself I could, 

but 

I couldn't.

I ran

like those men,

but not because of the

women.

Sadie's father's

gun

was fired

to signal the 

beginning of the race.

The 

stifling

blows

and the

pain

and the

fear

made me think of

Sadie's

father

and his gun 

and it was

like

a shot was fired in the

air

that night,

signalling 

a change

and also the

beginning

of what would become

my

long 

term

relationship

with

fear.

I kept on running.

(iv) Unsounded Retaliation.

I felt 

boxed

in.

Eventually,

I found myself in a 

ring.

For once,

I was not

the

punching bag,

I was 

the one

with the gloves.

I hit hard.

He's a power of

strength

for such a 

little

thing.

I hit harder,

tired of being

a thing,

much less

a little

thing.

They saw

strength,

I was 

weakness.

It was their 

words

and their

encouragement

that made it

worse.

I was 

always

so sure

that it couldn't get

worse

and it 

shocked

me

that with their

friendship

came

hardship.

They saw 

power

so I put 

up

a shield

and

pretended

to be 

the

person

they thought

they saw.

With every punch,

I saw those faces,

the faces

of

the ones

with

the closed minds 

and 

the

sharp tongues

and 

the quick jabs.

I punched

and punched

and punched

until I couldn't

feel

any more.

That was a 

lie.

I'd 

stopped

feeling

long

before.

You should have seen it coming.

Well, what did you expect?

I warned you.

It was your own fault.

At death's door,

and those were their

words of wisdom.

I wasn't

looking for

sympathy,

but it

hurts

when the people who 

brought you into the world

can't even bring themselves

to hold you 

and tell you

everything will be

alright,

even when you know it isn't

true.

I was at death's door

and even death 

refused to have me.

It locked me out

and I stood on the

edge,

tipping over the threshold,

before being pulled back.

I look back

and I'm 

glad

that the door never opened,

but back then,

all I wanted was

an escape.

(v) Empathy.

I walked down the

pristine halls

and felt a 

dull bliss.

It was a 

whole

new 

world,

but I walked on

solid ground,

felt nothing but

hardness

under my feet.

It was the

first place

I'd felt 

accepted,

but they never

accepted

the real me.

They didn't ever

see

the 

real

me.

I strove for

perfection,

to correspond with

the perfect school and

the perfect attire and

the perfect everything.

But something I could 

never quite manage was

time.

Time is fast

at the same 

time that it's

slow.

Minutes go by

and I wonder

how seconds can be

so short

when seconds are what

make up

minutes and

hours and

months and

years and

years seem to pass

so quickly,

at the same

time that they pass

so slowly.

I could never keep 

time and 

I was always

running

running

running.

It was a burden,

an imperfection,

until it wasn't any more.

It wouldn't be long

before I was late.

The seconds were 

ticking

ticking

ticking

by and

I was on a spiral

staircase,

going downwards.

At the sound of a voice,

I stopped.

And there he was.

I was rendered

speechless.

But the show went on.

We ran,

together.

Fear gripped my hand

tigther than ever

as I sat

and sipped

and listened.

It came back

like a punch in the face,

but not quite,

because I knew exactly what

a punch in the face

felt like.

It hit me hard, 

like doing something

after years of being

out of practice.

It all seemed so suffocating,

so difficult and

strange, yet 

it was 

so

damned

familiar

that I wanted to

run

again,

but his eyes 

told a story and

his story

was no fairy tale.

I watched the 

blue

fill with

tears

and they fell

and I fell

and we fell together,

but I wouldn't let him fall

like I did,

so I stayed

and I spoke

and I vowed

that I would

be there

for

him,

that I wouldn't

run 

and that in helping

him

I'd help myself.

It would be like

facing

them

and

winning.

Or so I'd believed.

He was so

strong,

not as much like me

as I'd initially

believed.

It seemed that

everything

I

believed in

crumbled

and fell.

I wouldn't let 

him

crumble,

I wouldn't let

him

fall 

and I would do it for

him.

He fell anyway,

but not in the way I'd

feared.

He

fell

for 

me.