Fuck me hard.
Peyton.
My Fancy.
Her nickname tattooed on my back burns across my skin. A permanent reminder of the one who got away.
“Hi, my name’s Peyton Mathews. I was born and raised in Nashville. This is a dream come true for me. I’ve never wanted anything more than this.” Hearing that my chest constricts. “When I was seventeen, I nearly died. I never thought I’d have this chance…”
I pause the video, unable to take my eyes from her, unable to hear anything else she has to say. I know the story. I was there. It was my fault.
Her hazel eyes stare at me through the camera lens and I feel like I can’t breathe.
She's still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She’s dressed in a dangerously short pair of denim cut offs and a scoop neck red tank top, with a red pair of cowgirl boots to match. Fucking A. She’s a ten, and the camera loves her. My girl has grown up. Her dirty blonde hair blankets her shoulders, hiding her breasts. I hit play after fast-forwarding through her interview and her choice of song surprises me. She has chosen to sing something she wrote herself acapella. She always was a rebel.
Goodbye my love
Goodbye my only friend
I gave you the best of me
All you brought me was misery
I shared all of my dreams with you
You made them into a nightmare
You keep saying I broke your heart
and you always will love me
Funny you should say these things
You’re the one who stole my heart away
You suck the very breath from my lungs
And yet I can’t stay away
I keep listening to your voice on the radio
I gave you all of me
I’ve got the scars
Goodbye my love
Goodbye my only friend
I need you to stop holding on
This love is not what I intended
But misery loves company
Pieces of the life we shared are…
drifting away