The Price Of Love

'What would you care?' he said. His words cold and empty.

‘Because…because I …’ she started to respond....

‘I just would…..’

'Tell me - tell me!!  why? why would you care?’ He said. Realising he sounded quite bitter and frustrated.

She seemed so cold. He thought. So distant – hollow even. Like nothing mattered to this girl. Did she even have feelings? Did she even feel what he had felt? Was he about to find out?
'Tell me? Go on...'he asked. 

Silence filled the room....

He was prepared to walk out the door and not look back. He would leave knowing it was not anything more than a mere friendship. He knew by tiptoeing out silently, he would lose the one thing he had cared so much for, but what use was it if she didn't feel the same anyway? He would lose her either way.

It was like in that moment, in that room, there was nothing more between them than a dear friendship. That she cared for nothing more than being his friend he thought. and that was it. Wasn't it? Had he seen something she hadn't. Had he felt something she had not???? Would he ever know. Or would it simply remain a memory, something he would just shut out after today.

Why would I care, she thought - Why would I care...she knew exactly why she would care, she had so much to say,  BUT yet she remained silent.

.In that moment all she wanted to do was to throw her journal at him, have him read every word, every word that she was unable to speak, every word which was now floating around in her brain, loosely, ready to be executed, ready to tell him why she cared.

Page after page filled of words about him, sylabbles and characters all tied in to form words about HIM. He had filled every thought of hers, this very boy standing on the opposite side of the room, staring blankly into the wall. Hurt. Hurt by the words she was unwilling to say.Unable to say. Hurt because he felt something for her and was now starting to think was all in his mind.

The journal pages overflowed with the way she felt, the love, the pain, the adventure, one page was never enough for him, words would never be enough. She had written so much, yet it still wasn't enough, how could she have written so much about one person and still have so much to say. There was still so much that was unwritten, a story between them that was yet to be told, a future even, a life together. The way he always made her smile, his laugh, his jokes, the way he cared, his caring sensitive soul, his incredible sense of humour, the way he mattered so much to her. The words lingered again in her mind - she knew without looking at the journal, she knew every word that was written in that journal, she knew how she felt....

Silence had descended upon the room, two people now in opposite corners of the room, each one alone with their thoughts, miles away from each other, yet the thoughts remained the same, though neither of them would ever know.

Their eyes met for a moment, catching himself, he turned around and faced the wall, the dark brick wall.

He felt stone cold. Nothing mattered to her - did it? She didn't care.Neither would he.

She walked over and sat in the corner of the room, her head tilted and eyes facing the ground, filled with pain and fear, and ..... the ....desire to just inflict her love upon him. Instead she sat there, twisting the silver bracelet on her wrist, the wrist holding together that very arm and pulling it in so close to her chest, protecting herself, she was afraid, afraid of reaching out to someone else. She had been alone for so long. How could she expose her feelings now? How could she let anyone near her? And then...then...What if? What if? she thought what if what she had perceived to be love had not been the truth?

SILENCE

Silence was her barrier, her protection, it was the invisable shield protecting her heart. Words meant everything, they gave life and they also brought death, words would mean removing that shield becoming vunerable, exposing a raw and ready heart. The armour that had shielded her heart her whole life, it had remained secure, now she was too afraid to remove it, for if she did, SHE would lose her security, place it in the hands of another, and what if ...what if he wasn't ready to hold it carefully, if he wasn't ready to recieve it, .and take the greatest care of it and it's fragility. What if he wasn't? she thought. What if he threw them back at me.and what if? What if she thought...HE DIDNT FEEL THE SAME?

She knew a bare and exposed heart, is like a flower, it could be warmed by the love of the sun, or destroyed by the coldness of the snow, her heart faced the same risk that flower did each day, springing to life, not knowing what the day will bring, although the flower didn't have a choice, it sprung whether it lived or died was up to the weather. she however did. She didn't have to open it.

She could remain silent and protected.

The thought of a snow storm hitting her heart, the frost would kill it she was not so sure she wanted to take that risk. It was much safer to live behind the armour. To remain silent.

After a lifetime, it was a great risk, greater than anything she had ever risked before, greater than the risk of losing her life, for she had lived with a broken heart before and she was as good as dead, her heart contained everything...was she willing to open up and trust him with it?