Pretty Blue Eyes If I had only known what a snow storm can do to you. If only I hadn’t been that stubborn to go through that snow storm. If I hadn’t gone through that snow storm, I probably wouldn’t have gotten hurt so much, I could’ve prevent myself from getting hurt. If it wasn’t for that stupid dog of him, I would probably be dead now. If I just hadn’t gone through it, I wouldn’t have met the love of my life. If I just hadn’t packed my bag and left Oliver, tears rolling down my cheeks of pain. Oliver… I met Oliver when I was about sixteen, at school. I fell for his pretty blue eyes. He was nice to me, he could make me laugh and cheered me up when I had problems at home. Always tried to help me out, always tried to help me with my homework. Even when he didn’t understand it himself, or didn’t know what to do. He stuck up for me when some stupid lads in my class were bullying me. He told me after three years of me fancying him that he liked me. He liked me more than a friend. He wanted to be more then just good friends. He told me that he wanted to touch me, but not like friends do. He said he longed to hug me, he longed to kiss me. He wanted to tell to his friends that I, me, I was his girlfriend and not someone else. That I was his. That I belonged to him. That he owned me. So from that day on we were a couple. After a year, when we both left school, we moved in together. It went OK for a while, but then he took the ‘I own you’ bit too seriously. He didn’t want me to go out anymore with friends. He only wanted me to go out with him. Only him. So he could show off, and make the other guys jealous. That he owned me. He made rules for me, he had a schedule for me when to go out to take a deep breath of fresh air. For five minutes. In those five minutes I could smoke, take a deep breath of fresh air and then come back in. When he was working, he locked me into the house so I couldn’t go anywhere. This was getting out of hand; he took my phone off me, I couldn’t go anywhere, I wasn’t allowed to have fun. The only thing I was allowed to do, was cooking for him. Believe me, I loved him with all my heart. There was nothing or no one I loved more than I loved him. But I had to get out of there. It was driving me completely nuts. If I wasn’t already. So I packed my bag with the things I needed and tried to get out. But I couldn’t. The doors were all locked, and I couldn’t get them open. At that point it didn’t occur to me that I could’ve smashed a window and get out. So I dropped my bag and had a massive break down. I just started screaming that someone had to let me out. Crying my eyes out because it was driving me insane. I didn’t even realize that Oliver had come in. He saw my bag and me sitting on the floor, crying. At first I thought he was going to be so angry that he would throw me out, but he didn’t. He closed his loving arms around me and tried to talk. Asked me what was wrong, so he could help me. I nearly bought it again. But then I got back to senses and shrugged his arms off me, picking up my bag and running to the door to get out. Slamming it behind me, I realized that he wasn’t even trying to hold me back, he wasn’t running after me to pull me back by my hair into the house. To be honest, I expected that. Something he would never do, though. He wasn’t a person that would just hit someone for no reason. Or with reason, he was a talker. Totally not violent or anything. That’s why it hurt so much leaving him. He didn’t even try to get me back. I think he knew that he hurt me by not letting me do anything, still he kept me in that house like a prisoner. So there I stood, one last look over my shoulder at the house, to see if he was standing in the doorway watching me walking out of his life, forever. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t standing in the doorway, no. He was standing in front of the window. His hand against it, mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry’. Tears rolling down his cheeks. I wanted to run back inside, and say that it was okay. But I didn’t. I was glued to the ground and something pulled me away from the house. Leaving Oliver by himself standing in front of the window. Tears were still rolling down my cheeks when I was walking for about an hour. Didn’t know where I was going. It started to snow. It quickly started to snow more, and within a few minutes there was a serious snow storm raging around me. Trying to keep myself warm, I pulled my scarf a bit up, so it was in front of my mouth. Putting my collar up. Because of the storm raving in my ears, I didn’t hear the tree, a few metres away from me, breaking down and landing on me. Everything went black in front of my eyes. I woke up again by a lick along my cheek. A sort of snow wolf was hanging above me. Heavy breathing and licking my cheek. I flicked my eyes a couple of times and tried to get up. But it was impossible and I felt like dying when I tried. I looked down, to my legs. The tree had landed on them. I closed my eyes again. “Hey, are you okay?” I could hear someone vaguely ask. The voice came nearer. “Oh God. Louie, come here.” He, I guessed it was a man, said. He didn’t have a deep manly voice, but I could tell it was a man. He whistled and the dog went away. He came closer to me, I could feel his body warmth. He brushed my hair out of my face. His dog was heavy breathing not far away from me. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna phone for help.” I opened my mouth and tried to squeeze a few words out of my throat. “Please… don’t… leave… me…” I grabbed his arm tightly. I opened my eyes for the first time since the man had come near to me. “I won’t go anywhere. I’m gonna call with my mobile.” I saw his friendly eyes. A smile curled around the corners of his mouth. Blue eyes. He had blue eyes, just like Oliver. A single tear dropped along my cheek onto the snow. “Hey, shh. Don’t cry. It’s gonna be alright.” He reassured me and wiped the wet stripe on my cheek away. Still holding his arm, he tried to get his phone out his pocket with one hand and searched for a number. He pressed the OK button. “Yeah, it’s me, James. I need you to help me. There’s a girl who is lying under a fallen tree with her legs.” He told the person on the other end our location and then dialled the alarm number. Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital. A white room, not sharing it with anyone, all alone. Except for the person who was sleeping. His head beside my arm. “I’m sorry…” I whispered and stroked his hair. The drugs were doing what they were supposed to do. He slowly lifted his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Miss.” He smiled friendly. Those blue eyes. I swear I had seen them before. “Who’s Oliver?” He asked me. I frowned my forehead. “You were asking for Oliver when they rolled you into the ambulance. And screamed his name while you were sleeping. Not to mention that you called me Oliver.” I looked down, not wanting to have eye contact with him. “He’s… no one. Not to me anymore anyway.” I sniffed and let the tears flow freely. He caressed my hand, and brushed his lips against it. “It’s going to be fine, Miss.” I turned my head to him. “Please don’t call me Miss. It’s Kate.” I gave him a weak smile and then rested my head on the pillow. “Yeah, you better get some sleep. I’m gonna go now. My work is done here.” He winked at me and let go of my hand. “No, I don’t want you to go.” I whispered and got hold of his hand again. “But… I have to. I have to work you know. You know what? I’m gonna leave my number here, and then if you need me or whatever, you can gimme a call, okay?” I smiled and he quickly scribbled his number down onto a piece of paper and left it on the bedside table. I was released within a couple of days from the hospital. Only had two broken legs, so nothing serious. I was packing my stuff, or at least the things I had in the bag when I left Bob. I heard a knock on the door and someone came in. Thinking it was the nurse I started talking that I could do this myself etc. “It’s me.” A familiar voice. I turned around to find the lad who had helped me getting to this hospital, who had practically saved my life. He had a wheelchair in front of him. “I knew you were going to leave today. Come on, I’ll bring you downstairs.” I smiled to him, then let myself slowly fall into the chair and he rolled me away from the room. “I don’t even know your name.” I said, a bit embarrassed. “James. Where do you live? I can drop you off there.” “I don’t have a home.” I said, didn’t even lie. I ran away from Bob, remember? “What about your parents home?” “Died in a car crash.” “Boyfriend?” “Don’t have one.” “Girlfriend?” He asked desperately. I laughed. First time I laughed in ages. “I’m not gay!” “Oh sorry. Friends place?” “Don’t have any friends left anymore.” “Guess you’re going to stay at my place for a bit then.” I was shocked. I barely knew his name. “What?” “You’re gonna stay at mine for a while till you have found a home.” I really didn’t have the energy to argument about it so I just let him take me to his house. He helped me into his car, being very careful, like I was some kind of porcelain doll. I might be complaining now, but then I didn’t. I loved his attention. His… the way he took care after me when I stayed at his place. He took a few weeks off and made sure I had everything I needed. It wasn’t for long that his friends came over, so I needed to be introduced. With my broken legs I couldn’t stand up, so I sat on the couch, feeling a tad uncomfortable and impolite. “Yo Jimmy. Who’s the fit bird on your couch?” The short, reddish hair, one asked. He stood on the other side of the room, but he yelled to James who was in the kitchen. He grinned at me. “I’m Matt, this is Charlie.” I stuck out my hand to shake his. “Oh, I see you can’t stand up. Sorry.” He kissed my hand delicately but quickly let go when James came back in the room. I shook Charlie’s hand politely and smiled. I thought that these guys could be nice. I don’t know where he suddenly got it from, but Charlie had a guitar in his hand and started to play and hummed to himself. “So JB, heard you wrote a couple of songs?” Matt said, looking at Charlie who was clearly in his own world. “Yeah,” James replied, taking a swift look at me, then turned his head back to Matt. “I’ll get them, they’re upstairs.” He put his tea on the table and stumbled up the stairs. I was here for so long now (four weeks, but when you have nothing to but watching TV, it looks like an eternity), I could hear him walking into his room, closing the door and stumbling back down again. He held a few papers in his hand. Other hand he had a guitar. Never saw it before. Didn’t even know he played guitar. “Well…?” Matt said. James looked up from his papers. “Well what?” He replied. “Are you going to play something for us or what?” Matt asked impatiently. James shoved a bit and placed his guitar on his lap. Gently touching the chords. He began singing, never knew that he could sing. “I hate when you say, that I don’t blow you away. I can’t break through that way.” He ended with, “Don’t think I wanna know. I’ve got to go, before I go crazy. I let go in every way. Cause anyway, I know that you hate me.” Especially those last words got me a shiver down my spine. For some reason I knew he wrote about me. It was about me. He let me know it was about me by looking at me when he ended his last chord. “Wow, that was cool dude!” Matt said enthusiastic, clapping his hands. A couple of hours and some songs of the lads later, they left. Leaving me and James alone in the house. “I’m going to start working again tomorrow.” He said, while scratching behind the dogs ears. Not even looking at me, like he was sorry. “Yeah, I know. You shouldn’t have taken so many days off for me.” I replied. He didn’t turn to look at me. It made me feel a bit nervous. “James?” I asked, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He quickly stood up. “Yes, it was about you. I saw the way you were looking at me.” I was stunned. It looked like he was about to cry. But he didn’t, he held his tears back for me. To look like a big, strong, protective man. “I only wanted to ask if you wanted to face me while talking.” I said with an innocent tone. “Oh,” He sighed and sat back on the couch. I gently touched his arm. “I don’t hate you.” I whispered. He sat with his legs spread, elbows leaning on them, hands on his face. I saw a tear falling down from his face. Splashing on the floor. I pulled him towards me with his arm I was still holding. He had a scared but hurt look on his face. I put the pillow that was behind my back on my lap and tapped on it. He laid his head on it. Face up, hands on his tummy. As always. I stroked his hair, looking into his eyes, which were like deep pools now. He looked back at me, then closed his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek. I don’t know why, probably ‘cos I shared his pain in some way, I began to cry silently. It suddenly hit me why he thought I hated him. I never thanked him for anything, didn’t give anything back. I closed my eyes as well, and started thinking about him. And me. What I had done, and what I hadn’t done. Mostly what I hadn’t, because I hadn’t done anything. “Why are you crying?” It was like a little child asking his mother why she was crying. I opened my eyes and saw James staring at me. With a tear of me on his cheek. He got up, removed the pillow off my lap and caressed my cheek. “There’s no need to cry, Kate.” He weakly smiled. “I think we need to talk. I’m so sorry I never let you know in any way how thankful I am. I just…” “Shh…” He put his index finger on my lips, to remove it a few silent seconds later and kissing me. He pulled away not very long after he started kissing me. He looked into my eyes, checking on doubt or anger. I just looked back at him, wanting for more. He didn’t move. He just kept on staring. I couldn’t hold in any longer and pulled him by his shirt. I kissed him, more passionately this time. His tongue slid into my mouth. His hand moved to my face again, stroking it lightly. His touch gave me shivers. If it wasn’t for those stupid broken legs, I would’ve jumped on him to rip his clothes off and… He pulled back first, looking at me with a satisfied smile curling around the corners of his mouth. “I’m gonna go to bed.” He said, standing up already. Aaaaah! How could he leave me now? Not just because I could barely walk, but just because I wanted to be with him now. “Erm, James?” He turned around, I pointed down towards my legs and smiled innocently. “Oh right. Shit, sorry.” For all this time I was staying in the spare room, but he carried me all the way up the stairs, to his room. He undressed me, slowly, delicately. Touching ever bit of skin he could see or find. Handing me one of his extra large t-shirts. Undressing himself. Putting me into his bed. Pulling the sheets up till my neck. Slowly getting into the bed himself. Searching for a comfortable position. Pulling me close to him. Me putting my head on his chest. Peacefully falling asleep. I felt him moving me off him. I opened one eye to see him getting out of bed. He smiled when he saw me watching him getting dressed. “Need to go to work. Should I bring you downstairs and put some stuff on the table so you have everything you need till I come back?” I nodded and cuddled the pillow. I quickly dressed myself, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair and he carried me downstairs. He kissed my forehead and left me alone in the house. A pile of magazines, tea and some food would pull me through the day. At about six he came back home. Looking very tired, he flopped onto the couch and threw a pillow on my lap, while I was still reading a magazine by the way, he laid his head on my lap. “De-stress me please.” Was all he said. Meaning, stroke my hair and say sweet things. I laughed softly and started stroking his hair. “Missed you today.” There, one sweet thing. “Really?” He asked, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of me stroking his hair. “No,” I replied sarcastically. He opened one eye. “You did.” I stuck out my tongue and laughed. “Didn’t,” “You did, you did.” I stopped stroking his hair and roughly pulled the pillow out of under his head. “Hey!” He squealed and got up. “Hey yourself.” I said and playfully hit him with the pillow. “You bitch. You’re so gonna pay for that.” I cheekily looked at him. “Oh yeah?” He nodded hysterically. But instead of hitting me back, he threw the pillow to the other side of the room and started kissing me. His hands moved up to my top and lifted it. He tickled with one finger my tummy, up to my breasts. My grip on his shirt tightened and pulled him even closer, if that was possible anyway. “God, damn your broken legs.” He groaned into my ear. He pulled his hand back and stood up. “Hey!” I yelled. “Got my revenge, didn’t I?” He said, walking slowly to the stairs, turning around again, sticking out his tongue and stumbling up the stairs. Few minutes later he came back, hyperactively jumping on the couch, swinging an arm around me. “I love you,” He whispered in my ear. I looked at him, into his big, blue eyes. “You don’t have to say anything back. I just love you, end of story.” He kissed me softly on my cheek. “I’m gonna get something to eat. You want too?” I nodded and sighed deeply. He loved me. Three weeks later it was time to get the plaster off of my legs. James got a day off for it. He would go with me. He wanted to. He knew what was going to happen when we got home. Or at least what we were planning on going to do when we got home. “Looks good to me. We have to make another x-ray to see if it has al grown together correctly again.” I nodded to the doctor. He came back with the x-rays moments later and it was all good, thank God. I couldn’t have taken another couple of weeks being in plaster. I tried to stand up and walk for a bit. Almost immediately I sunk down and James caught me. “Whoa, thanks babe.” The doctor explained that it would probably take a while before I could walk normally again. The muscles in my legs hadn’t done anything for seven weeks. “Would sex be a good option to train the leg muscles?” James asked, straight face. The doctor pulled up an eyebrow, then nodded. “I guess so.” We left the room and burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you’re so rude, JB!” James grinned and looked at me. “I know. That’s why you love me so much right?” He said cheekily. I never really said that I loved him. Never said the actual words. Just nodded when he asked me if I loved him, but he knew I loved him. James opened the door and helped me in. I was the first one who saw the mess. It looked like a bomb had exploded right there, in our house. CD’s all over the place, stuff that belonged upstairs were now spread on the floor downstairs. James slammed the door shut, noticing a note hanging on the door, pinned with a knife. Sounds cliché, but it was just hanging there, knife on it. Even more cliché, it was a kitchen knife. James ripped it of the door and read out loud, ‘I found you’. Me, having no brains, asked him if the note was signed. “Well, no. Do you think someone who just robbed the place would sign a note?!” He hissed. He walked past me, letting me go and me falling on the floor. “Fuck you James. Can I help it that someone tried to rob this place? And by the way, I don’t think they robbed it, cos the note said ‘I found you’, meaning you or me.” I sharply said. Tears rolling down my cheeks from the pain shooting through my legs. I sat on hands and knees, trying to keep myself up. James just fucking stood there, not doing anything. Just watching me. “For fucks sake, help me up you cockmonkey!” I hissed. He still stood there. “James! Please!” Tears were flowing freely, out of anger, pain and just feeling helpless and hurt. He came into action, running towards me, sitting next to me, holding me close to him, rocking me gently, whispering the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. He held me tight, I heard a loud shot noise. James let go of me and fell backwards. I turned around to see blood everywhere. He was lying there, blood coming from his back. “Oh my God, James!” I bent over him, for support and held his head up. With his head on my lap, I saw he was in serious pain. I looked up and saw a familiar face. Oliver. And a gun. I screamed as loud as I could, not being able to do anything. I saw him running away, to the door, slamming it shut. I cried hopelessly, hoping that it would help. James coughed up blood. A drip of blood was coming from his mouth. He was dying. I saw his eyes going blanc. “I love you,” He whispered. I held him closer to me, so that I could feel his lips one last time. Blood was flooding everywhere. “I love you too.” I said. He smiled. “I know you do.” Then he just closed his eyes, that smile still on his face. A tear ran down my cheek onto his. I rocked him gently. Knowing I lost him. Softly humming to myself what James had sung for me once. “Look at me up in the sky, watch the world just pass me by. And all my feelings give me away. It’s happening more every day. Loving you could be so easy. Loving you could be so great. Loving you could be so easy. Loving you could be so great…”