Shattered: A Dark Romance

“Wow,” she whispers, her voice rushing out in amazement. I study her, her pupils are wide as she takes in the sight. Her arms have dropped, no longer in her annoyed stance. She’s focused on the scene in front of her. Her face is pure bewilderment.

I’ve seen it a million times, but still even I can’t get over the beauty. At the back of my parents’ land is a high cliff overlooking deep blue water. Straight below, about a thirty foot drop, is a small beach, completely inaccessible. From here all you see is the tan and orange pebbles and a small pocket of sand.

“This is my favorite spot.” I tell her, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

Her head turns to look at me, her green eyes meeting mine. She looks at me differently now, like she sees me better. Beyond the exterior, the version of myself I put out to the world. She sees me.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

In this moment, everything shifts. I feel something here, between us. I can only imagine the picture, the two of us staring into each other's eyes with the waves crashing behind us.

I want to know Mikaela Wilder.

“Is she ready?” Vaughn’s voice drifts through the ear pods I’m wearing. I moved my laptop out to the kitchen island so I could watch for Mik while I work.

“Noah?” Vaughn calls, his voice ringing in my ears.

“Yeah, man, I heard you. I think so.” I shove a hand through my hair, pulling on the dark locks. It’s too long, my mother wanted to send someone over to cut it yesterday, but I told her not to. I wanted to look a little more rugged, like I haven’t been awaiting trial in a fucking mansion. I need to be relatable, and the neatly groomed Noah is not.

Vaughn scoffs, “You think so?”

“Yeah, I know.” I don’t need him to tell me how stupid this plan in. It’s genius, but only if it works and the chance that it doesn’t work is… troubling.

Mik is a wild card, so trusting my life to her is not my brightest idea. She’s always had… issues, mood swings, paranoid moments. I don’t think there’s a therapist in the world that would give her mental health an A-plus rating. She struggles, more often than not, but most of the time I can handle it. I can deal with her ups and downs, and most of the time she can too. She hasn’t processed Auden’s death though, something she needs to get through or else this plan might not have a chance.

“It will work.” I tell him. I’m hoping it will, hanging onto the sliver of hope that Mik believes in me.

“Okay,” Vaughn huffs. “Let me know what you need from me.”

I thank him and hang up quickly. I hate rehashing this with them, with my father, or David. Repeating the same things over and over again. Constantly telling them that I trust her.

They just need to trust me.

It’s been hours by the time Mik emerges from the guest room. Her hair is wet and hanging down in damp waves. A pair of dark jeans cover her legs and a loose t-shirt hangs from her torso. She’s never been one to wear tight clothing, to actively work to be attractive every minute of the day.

She’s always worn dark colors, loose t-shirts. Unlike every other woman I’ve known, every girl my parents tried to set me up with. Mikaela never lies to others or herself. She owns her feelings, and doesn’t change her appearance for anyone.

Different from the girl who slowly peeks out of her room, looking both ways. She’s guarded now, scared, broken. I watch her from the shadows as she takes every step lightly, barely making a sound as if even the tiniest noise could wreck everything.

She’s not the strong, stubborn woman I once knew.

I wanted to give her time. Time to heal, to move on, time to just be away from me.

I wanted to let her breathe.

But it seems time didn’t do her any good.

What has she been doing? Living with ghosts stuck in her head probably. Revisiting the same night over and over again. She says she doesn’t remember anything, and I wonder if that’s true. She was so fucking out of it when I found her, so far gone. I can’t get the picture of her out of my mind.

I shake it off, willing myself to stop revisiting those memories. Instead I tuck them away, far back in my head, storing them away and hoping to never see them again.

I wanted her to be fine without me, I really did. We crashed and burned, both of us walking away in broken pieces.

But she’s not better without me, and I’m not good without her.

So we’re stuck together, and we’re fucking dead apart.

She could devastate me. She could s