Serena's POV

13 year old Serena

My parents were the kind of people of who'd do anything for anyone. They weren't rich by any measure, but they always found a way to make sure I had everything I ever needed. My mother was a role model, before I even know the meaning of the word. She taught me how a womans mind should be the most beautiful part of her. And I believed it deeply. And my father gave me the best gift anyone could ever give. He believed in me.

My Dad had spent most of his life dreaming to be a writer. He wanted to put all of his wild and original ideas pen to paper for the world to fall in love with. He met Mum in his first year of college, and not even a year later they were surprised by the expectancy of me.

They were young. Some even thought, too young. But by doing so, it meant we could meet a little earlier, and love a little longer. People told them their lives would come to an end when I was born. But at that moment, their life simply begun. How I didn't take away from their future, I gave them a new one. Or so my Mum liked to tell me.

Dad's dreams got put on the back-burner as a means to support his new family. He'd gotten a cushy job at a nearby office, and faithfully worked there to this day.

But it was because of my Dad why I held such a deep rooted love of literature. He told me 'there are many ways he could enlarge my world, but a love of books is the best of all'.

He wrote me stories. And I wrote them for him.

It was deep connection we both shared. A rooted bond.

And it was my favourite thing in the entire world.

"Serena, did you get your book report finished? The one you were talking about last week?"

He said this with a smile on his face, taking a sip out of his morning coffee.
"I did Dad... But I handed it in a couple days ago now."

"Awh shoot... I wanted to read that, your ideas sounded amazing... Do you know when you'll get it back?"

"Should be some time next week."

"Well when you do, make sure to give it to me... I can't wait."

14 year old Serena

I watched absently from the windowseat of my bedroom, observing the new family moving in next door.

The house had only been empty a couple months, and I was hoping that the new people would be a hell of a lot nicer than the previous tenants. And from what I could see there were two brothers. One around my age, and one barely walking.

Truthfully I didn't have many friends. I was too nervous. Too closed off. Too much of a know-it-all. And I was just too nice to do anything in retaliation to the harsh words people sometimes said to be. But to be honest, I will never regret being a nice person to the wrong people. My behaviour says enough about me. And theirs shows enough about them.

So I was going to take a plate of cookies in the oven over to them as a welcoming present. The moment all of their belongings were in the house.

Because that's just who I was.

...

I knocked thrice, waiting patiently with my abundance of baked goods. It was the older brother who answered, looking flustered and overworked.

"You live next door right?"

I nodded slowly, taking a second to take in his appearance. He looked like any other fourteen year old. Tall, gangly, growing into himself. But he had a genuinely beautiful face.

When I didn't say anything, he spoke again,
"I'm Jared. But you can call me Red... Do I get to know your name?"

I blinked once. Twice. "I'm Serena."

"Well Serena from next door... It's nice to meet you."

"I baked cookies."

"You'll have to teach me sometime."

And he gratefully accepted the plate.
"I can do that."
Because yes. This was good. This was perfect. I could do that.

"I've got more unpacking to do probably today and tomorrow... But if you're not busy Wednesday, would you mind showing me around?"

"Showing you around?"

"Like some of the best places to go... I've been thrown in at the deep end so to speak."

"So, you've never been here?"

"Not even for a trip."

"Okay... I can show you."

15 year old Serena

"Don't you two just look adorable!"

"Mum! Stop!"

I blushed deep red, hiding my face in my hand. Red and I were posing for a photograph of our winter formal dance. We'd opted to go together as friends, not wanting to get sucked into the mantra of needing to find a date.

It had been a rather bizarre year for the best part. I was the loner with no friends, nose stuck in a book. Then suddenly, I had a best friend. Someone to do everything with. Other people tried to befriend him on several different occasions, but he seemingly brushed them off to remain friends with me. It was unsettling to me at first, and it certainly took some getting used to.

I had to admit, he was looking particularly handsome tonight, and had even coordinated his tie to match the colour of my silver dress.

"Mum, stop crying!"

And she pulled me into a hug, kissing the top of my head.
"But you just look so grown up sweetheart."

"You better look after her Red."

"Scouts honour Mrs Yvonne."

...

And from what I could tell, he indeed was. He was perfectly gentlemanly. Charming even.

We talked. We laughed. We danced until my feet felt like they were going to fall off.

And now, we were currently sat on the bus stop bench opposite the school, letting the cold air cool us down, and rightly rest our legs.

"I told you it would be a good night Se."

I looked at him then. Top button undone. Slackened tie. Disheveled hair. And my throat was suddenly disturbingly dry.

"Yeah... I take it back... School dances can be fun."

He chuckled, and set his gaze on my eyes. "You look stunning tonight by the way."

And I forced my gaze firmly on my lap. Hoping desperately that my loose hair would hide the obvious blush on my cheeks.
"Thank you."

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that... I'm just... hot... Yes, I'm hot from all the dancing."

"Serena... It's freezing."

"But body temperature goes up under strenuous activity."

"Are you seriously going to give me a biology lesson now?"

"Yes... You see, both the exercise itself and the air temperature and humidity can increase your core body temperature. This is because only approximately 20% of the energy produced in contracting muscles is used for muscle contraction; the remaining 80% is converted to heat energy, and-"

And because I was rambling like an idiot. And because I was just so, so damned nervous. He cut me off. He cut me off in quite possibly the best way in getting me to actually shut up.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing mine gently. It was a question I answered almost immediately, and I pushed back into it. Letting him know that it was okay. It was more than okay.

His left hand came up and rested gently on my cheek, his thumb grazing down ever so slightly.

My stomach was doing flip flops. And the butterflies felt like they were forcing their way up my throat.

I didn't know what on earth I was doing. And I didn't care if he did.

It was perfect. And messy. And the best first kiss I could have asked for.

16 year old Serena (part I)

And then I was proved why it is more important to look out for yourself, just a few short months later.

He let me down.

And I had to understand that friends come and go, but it is with a precious few I should hold onto.

He wanted more than I was ready to offer him. I wasn't emotionally ready. And I made that perfectly clear to him.

He didn't resent me for it though. If anything, he understood. But once we'd crossed that threshold that seperated friends from being more than that, we just couldn't get it back.

It hurt more than I liked to admit to myself. I lost having someone to rely on when I needed them. And I was back to being that nerdy girl with no one around her.

He still smiled at me when we passed in the crowded corridor of the school. And he would make a point of defending me if ever his new friends would attempt to mock me.

But I guess, life can be like that. Unfair. When someone you once thought highly of is no longer a fixture.

But I learned a valuable lesson. A lesson, I'm sure I'll keep with me. Never rely on anyone. Because in the the end, you're the only one who can truly pick up the pieces.

That being selfish sometimes is perfectly acceptable.

16 year old Serena (part II)

"What's wrong Princess?"

I looked up at my dad, hovering in the doorway of my bedroom.
"Nothing."

And he smiled sadly, making his way over to my bed to sit beside me.
"Certainly doesn't look like nothing."

"I'm just feeling a bit down."

"It's okay to feel sad sometimes... You're doing the best you can, and that is always enough."

"It doesn't feel like I'm doing enough."

"Never doubt yourself kiddo... You are the most extraordinary person I've ever met."

"I just wish I could be happy Dad... Like really happy."

"Sadness is sad because you dislike it. Sadness is sad because you would like not to be in it. Sadness is sad because you reject it."

"Okay?"

"But even sadness can flower into tremendous beauty, into silence, into depth... If you allow it to."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, and stroked the hair off my face. "Happiness is always shallow. Sadness is always deep. Happiness is like a wave. Sadness is like the innermost depth of an ocean."

I smiled, "And I wonder where I get my metaphors from."

"You swim in that ocean Princess... You swim gloriously amongst the waves... But sometimes you have to bravely swim in the depths to find the true beauty."

"I just feel like I keep making the wrong decisions."

"Well, sometimes you have to pay attention to the things you're drawn to."

"Even if I regret the choice I made?"

"In spite of it... those decisions are often directly connected to your path, passion, and purpose in life... Have the courage to follow them."

"How do you always have an answer?"

And he hugged me. "I don't always have an answer. I wish, for your sake, I could... But one day you'll be the one inciting wisdom on me... Just you wait."

"You think so?"

"I know so... You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you are fierce. You're a survivor. You're a fighter through and through... So, breathe little brave... There is a warrior inside of your heart."

"I love you Dad."

"I love you too Princess."

16 year old Serena (part III)

It happened on a Wednesday. It was a bog standard, typically boring Wednesday evening. It had been raining lightly for majority of the day, and the chill of autumn was definitely making itself known.

I'd gotten home later than I planned to, my after school tutoring session running over the timetabled slot. The door was still locked, although I didn't find it odd. My parents often worked late on the nights I, myself, had other things planned- and I thanked my lucky stars I remembered to put my house keys in my bag that morning.

I was bone tired. I always was on Wednesdays. I had three tutoring sessions, triple science, and a short morning shift to accept the delivery at the coffee shop where I worked. It was the worst day of the week.

I must have dozed off somewhere around seven, and when I abruptly woke a few hours later, I was surrounded by the darkness of the lounge.

It took a good few seconds to comprehend my surroundings, reaching over to turn on the lamp on the side table. I picked up my cell phone to check the time, and I confirmed what I'd already expected when I saw the inky night- it was late. Really late.

I got an overwhelming unsettling feeling settle in my gut, and I dialled both my parents phone numbers one after another. But neither answered.

...

I allowed another hour to pass. Busying myself with some schoolwork that I realistically didn't have to do for weeks, just to put my mind elsewhere.

But the minutes passed, and I became progressively more worried.

I started calling friends of my parents, asking if anyone had seen them... I tried their work... And everyone else I could possibly think of. But it all came back as a dead end.

I'd passed out, hunched over the kitchen table from sheer somewhere around 2 AM, when I was abruptly awoken by the vibration of my phone ringing.

"Hello?"

I didn't recognise the voice, nor the number.
"I'm sorry to have to call so late, but is this Miss Yvonne?"

And I knew. I fucking knew something was wrong. Something was disturbingly wrong.

"Is this about my parents?... Has something happened? Are they okay?"

"A police officer will be at your house as soon as possible to pick you up Miss Yvonne... Unfortunately I'm not at liberty to discuss anything over the phone."

"Please tell me they're okay."

"I can't do that."

16 year old Serena (part IV)

Reports have suggested that people who drive while under the influence of alcohol may do so repeatedly. It can be hypothesized that persons arrested for driving while impaired might be at increased risk for death in an alcohol-related motor vehicle crash. Between 1979 and 2014, an average of 676 people were killed in drink driving related accidents in Sinnoh. And an average of 3,551 people were seriously injured in drink driving related accidents. Approximately 85,000 people are convicted of drink driving related offences each and every year.
Approximately 85% of those convicted are male.

But where are the statistics for the people who die just being in the firing line of a drink driver? The people who would never let one drop of alcohol grace their lips before sitting behind the wheel?

People like my parents.

I had to identify their bodies that night. Sixteen years old, walking down the corridor of a fucking morgue to give a yes no answer to a man I will never see again.

The driver was three times the recommended limit. He drove a blue Honda Civic. And was 40 mph above the recommended speed limit, driving on the wrong side of the road.

I was told it was head on. Instant. And reassured they didn't suffer.

But what was reassurance to a newly found orphan? How could any of it even be happening?

Love and sorrow. The twins. The love comes first, sweet and strong. Then the sorrow that we'll never again be together in this life. The loss was more than my heart could take and I felt the dark clouds looming in from above to obscure the sun. If love is a divine gift then sorrow is also, for in its enormity is the proof of what used to be.

And in that moment of loss my world collapsed. Where there was light became shadows. The pain coming and going like waves on frigid sand. Though my mind called out for theirs, but the connection was gone. They were gone. And I knew that my time to be alone had come.

So, I cried as if my brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of my every pore. I pushed myself further into the chair so that my violent shaking would not cause me to fall, and from my eyes came a thicker flow of tears than I had ever cried in my life. The whole world seemed to have vanished. Now there was only pain enough to break me, pain enough to change me beyond recognition.

The hardest thing is the last goodbye. Especially when you didn't know it really was the very last one.

And I wish more than everything, that I could have told them how much I loved them one last time.

So, here and now. Thrown into the big bad world by myself.

It had been agreed that I would move in with my aunt for my remaining two years of highschool. After that, I would have access to the money my parents had left me, and use that to pay for college.

New school. New home.

I was fucking terrified.