Young Writers Society

The train carriage looked like something out of a Harry Potter Movie. I sat alone, just like I always did on journies. I disliked company, except for Ashleigh and Ben, before he became possesive. I didn't have time to get ready so I was in my pyjamas and sneakers. I looked umpresentable with my long hair tied up in a messy bun, and rushed makeup. Unlike some girls, I didn't like to spend hours on my makeup and appearance. However my parents were quite wealthy. They bought me everything including makeup artists in order to teach me how to bring out my hazel eyes, creamy skin and brown mahogany hair.

As I was getting consumed in my thoughts a tall, toned boy with mousey brown hair and crystal blue eyes wearing a white shirt and black jeans came and sat down.

I cleared my throat and glared at him. He seemed to ignore my glare.

"Is anyone sitting here?" He said innocently. I didn't buy his act.

"No, but I like to be in my own company." I tried to sound as intimidating as possible.

"Same. But there's no space left on the train, so I guess I'm stuck with you," He dumped his stuff on the ground of the carriage.

"Poor me," I said sarcastically.

"Poor you? Poor me. I'm the one that has to sit with you. So... Lemme guess, you're parents sent you away because, you're insolent, snobby, twisted and did something really bad." He smiled to himself, pleased with his observation.

"Don't say twisted. Just don't ever say that word to me." Flashbacks flooded my mind.

"Okay. But you're so easy to read. I've met people like you." I stared at him. He must of felt my eyes boring into his skin because he used a different approach.

"How about this. You tell me, who I am?"

I was confused.

"Describe you?" He nodded. "Okay-okay. You're one of those good looking dick heads, who are big headed and concieted. You think you can pull any girl you want. And you probably can, but not me. You can stuff your charm, a-and that alluring eye contact. You might be thinking that I'm into you, but I-I'm not okay. So wipe that smirk off your pretty face." I was breathing heavily. It felt good to say all I wanted to say. The smirk on his face was really beginning to piss me off.

He leaned back in his seat arrogantly.

"Well this is fun. Since you've been so generous and called me charming and good looking, I'd like to change my analysis on you. Well, you think you can shut people out with you're mesmerising hazel eyes. You wear a small amount of makeup to distinguish yourself from the other girls. You have wealthy parents, but you choose to play it down by tying up your beautiful long hair. I bet you don't even realise how pretty you are. And you've got every boy at your feet, but you like to keep them waiting, to maintain your persona."

I could feel myself turning a deep shade of red. He couldn't have gotten it so wrong, but for the first time I smiled and not for a twisted reason, but because he made me smile.

"No one's ever called me beautiful before." I said quietly. For the first time I sounded like a girl, yuck.

"I said, you don't know how pretty you are that doesn't mean I called you pretty." He gave me a lopsided grin. My heart grew wings and fluttered.

"Wipe that smirk of your face." I said chucking my scarf at him. He laughed.

"We've just met and you're already trying to undress!"

I grimaced playfully and retrieved my scarf, however he pulled me beside him. His expression changed.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm moving here for a new start." I looked up into his blue eyes. I shuffled uncomfortably. I breathed in, "My parents, don't really want me at home. They need a break, because of who I am... What I did."

The picture of me plunging the knife into his stomach, reappeared once again. I shifted again.

"What did you do?" He said in a compassionate tone. He smelled like lemons and lynx.

"You wouldn't want to know me, if I told you." It was true, everyone regretted my existence, but I didn't care.

"Just say it, I'm a big boy, I can take it."

"If my own parents couldn't take it, what makes you think you can?" He opened his mouth, but I was quicker.

"Just drop it. 'Cause I won't tell you."

"Okay." He pulled out his phone and put the headphones in. "Wanna Listen?"

I nodded. I took the headphone from him and put it in my ear. I curled up beside him.

"What do you listen to?" He tried to make conversation.

"I'm not allowed to listen to music. I'm not allowed a phone." I whispered.

"Oh." Was all he said and he left it at that. I liked him because of that.

His music was indie and mesmerising, the sort that took me to my own world. I liked it. The singer was Lana Del Rey, he showed me a picture, she reminded me of myself, dark and mysterious. So we sat there, bobbing slightly to the music., staring at whatever I eyes could find. Time had drifted from our thoughts and at the moment, I swear, we were infinite.

I must have fell asleep as when I woke up, I was wrapped in his coat and he was gone.

I got up and stared at the carriage; my stuff was still there, but he wasn't. I put his coat on properly, grabbed my stuff and walked out.

This boy, whoever he was, was different. I always thought of myself as an ultraviolet, a person who's moral compass pointed evrywhere but north. But when I was with him, I felt different as if, I could be better.

Those were my first thoughts when I met Ben. This is what I felt about this mystery boy now. Good things always ended badly, because I destroyed it. I was twisted.