Young Writers Society

The present day, a modern office building in London.

James looked around at his luxurious office, and stretched slowly, feeling relaxed and happy. He glanced in the mirror, and grinned. Gone were the days of unpopularity. Now he was a respected business man, with good looks and brilliant future prospects. Yes, he was rising in the world. He had just signed a business deal which would be beneficial for his hugely successful business. Considering his very humble beginnings living on a council estate on the rough side of town, he liked to think he had done fairly well for himself. Strolling around the elegant room, he reached into a mahogany drawer, looking for some paperwork to finish before leaving work. His eye caught the edge of a picture frame, and moving some dusty folders, he picked up an old photograph. That's funny... I don't remember this being taken. James was about to put it back before seeing a familiar face among the crowd of school children smiling for their school picture, and looked more closely.

There he was, about 17 at the time. He was smiling shyly at the camera, hiding between two much larger boys. He spotted a few of his friends from high school in the photo, but one in particular caught his attention. Her chestnut hair was curled in soft ringlets around her perfect face. He took in her joyful grin and those eyes as blue as the ocean which you could so easily lose yourself in... and he was reminded of her. "Olivia." He whispered her name, savoring the feel of it. He could feel tears threatening to escape his eyes, and hastily jerked himself away from the photograph, breathing deeply. He mustn't think about her...but he couldn't help himself recalling the tragic story.

~

Spring, 1995, High School.

James rushed through the busy school corridor, muttering unheard apologies as people walked into him, talking loudly with their friends, their voices scratching inside his head. He was trying to get to his Maths classroom, which provided more stress than he thought possible. There were just too many people, too many loud voices, which hurt his ears and echoed endlessly in his brain.

He had always been a shy child, preferring his own company rather than a large social event. And people didn't seem to understand this; they made fun of his quietness, mocking his geeky clothes and glasses. The only person who had ever shown him any sort of kindness at school was her...Olivia. He smiled inwardly, recalling their whispered conversations sitting next to each other in class.

As he rushed through the bustling corridor, a fight broke out. Two teenage boys were throwing punches at each other, their fists colliding with each other's chests in a feeble attempt to knock the other down. One of them threw their bag in James' direction, and without any time to side step it, James tripped over the bag. His books went flying, pages littered through the corridor, as he hurriedly stood up, brushing himself off. He looked up nervously. There she was. Olivia was standing there, looking concerned for him. He shuffled, embarrassed, and mumbled an explanation under his breath.

"Here," she said, picking up his book, presenting it for him."Uh...thanks," he managed to stutter, looking up into her radiant smile and eyes which were as clear as a blue sky. Realizing he had been staring, he quickly took the books and hurried away. He ignored the stares and laughter of the other girls, and felt a little glow of happiness, just for one moment.

Olivia's Diary Entry 23rd April 1995

Something unexpected has happened. I can't believe I am writing this, but I think I might be falling for James.

Can you believe it? James, the weird one. He isn't bad looking, really, he just hides away too much, and I kinda feel bad for him. He is so genuine and lovely to talk to... But we can never happen. Can you imagine what my friends would say? I can just imagine it now... and my parents! They would never really approve of me dating someone like him, even though they would pretend to be alright with it. They have my life planned out, anyway.

No. I will stop thinking about it now. I can't allow myself to think about him in that way ever again. No matter what my feelings are, I have to ignore them. It's for the best.

It is Summer, 1995, a house party in East London.

James was at a house party. He had never imagined himself to be at a house party, but here he was. In the last few months, a lot of things had changed for him. He had tidied himself up a bit; got rid of the geeky clothes and he had even started putting gel in his hair. This was all in an effort to catch Olivia's attention. He had even started socializing with the popular kids, getting into the right circles of people and pretending that he enjoyed spending time with those vain, arrogant so-called 'friends'.

He heard rumors that people were starting to whisper that he was getting popular himself. Now, girls didn't snicker and point behind his back. Each day, more girls would bat their eyelashes and flirt with him. It was incredibly unnerving, and most of the time it would end with James awkwardly refusing and walking away. After all, there was only one girl he wanted.

The music was so god damn loud; the pounding seemed to ricochet around his head. In fact, it was beginning to make him feel a little faint, especially with the alcohol he had been drinking. He looked at the beer still left in his hand, and tried to fight the urge to throw up.

"Hey, you drinking that?" A loud, mocking voice called out. He turned around to see Matthew, one of his new friends, grinning at him, "aw, you're a bit of a light weight, aren't you?" He teased, while the others joined in, poking fun at him. They circled around him, taunting, jeering and laughing.

"Hey, you guys, pack it in." Olivia approached them like an avenging goddess. She looked beautiful, and the other boys seemed to notice. She ignored their idle comments, and smiled at James.

For James, the rest of that night was a blur of craziness and dancing, sweaty bodies pressed against each other. James danced with Olivia, their bodies seeming to mold into one. He laughed and shouted as the tempo of the songs picked up speed, faster and faster, until finally the crowd emerged into the cold night air, which was as sharp as a knife on his sweaty skin. Exhilarated, James turned to Olivia, and without thinking asked her, "will you go out with me?"

There was a silence on the front lawn of the house, as if everyone was holding their breath. In fact, a few curious people turned to watch the scene unfold. He watched with losing hope as Olivia's smile slowly dimmed, and she looked at the ground with growing unease. James gulped, regretting his hasty question already, and shuffled on the spot, trembling. His anxiousness started to turn to anger; why was he never good enough for people, just because of where he came from? Did that really matter so much? His fists were balled up into fists, and finally he couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Look, I know I'm not your idea of perfection, and I might not be everything you want, but-"

"I'm sorry, James. I just can't." She cut him off and paused, as if to add more, her eyes filling with tears, and then she walked away.

He never spoke to her again.

~

Olivia's Diary- 7th July 1995

It was such a good night, in fact I don't know if I have ever had as much fun with someone before; not like that. And then he ruined it by asking me out. How am I meant to say yes? I live a completely different life to him.

He lives in a council flat with his drunken father and a prostitute for a mother. His older brothers walk the streets selling drugs, his sister already has a child; she's only 16!

My mother and father have different plans for me; it doesn't matter what I want. It never has. In their eyes, I am going to the perfect university, with my perfect grades, then I am starting a perfect career as a lawyer. I will then meet a perfect husband, settle down, preferably in my late twenties, and have a perfect summer wedding, give birth to two perfect children, and be a perfect mother to them. Oh, and of course, give up my career to look after the sweet cherubs, and let my husband earn the money as a rich banker. They're ignorant to anything I want in life.

Do you know what I want? I want to travel the world, meet new people, learn new languages, become an artist, a dancer, a musician. I want to live in Australia and spend long days on the beach, with a book. Or maybe I'll become a charity worker, helping the desperate and poor in Africa. I will buy a small idyllic cottage on the coast, surrounded by overgrown flowers, with the relaxing sound of the waves lapping on the shore. I would like to find the love of my life, and spend long winter nights cuddled on the sofa, before the fire place. I will dance in the rain, laughing, care free, just because I can, and take long walks in the woods. I am going to walk up a mountain, and sing to the world my happiness.

It's the simple things in life that I want. I don't need a white wedding, or a fantastic career, or a flawless life.

Why am I never allowed to choose for myself?

Everything has been planned out for me, from the moment I was born.

James doesn't fit in with any of it.

10 years later, Olivia's wedding, a village church.

The church bells rang merrily, sending their cascading tune into the crowd of brightly dressed guests. James stood awkwardly, apart from the main group in his smart suit. He had been invited to her wedding, much to his surprise. The expensive looking invite had landed on his door mat a few months ago, and ever since he had been thinking about her, and more specifically, who she was marrying.

"Oh, isn't she beautiful!" A tall lady wearing a hideous hat gasped, fanning her face vigorously, "oh, look at that dress!" there was a murmured agreement from her friend, wearing an equally ugly hat. James wished it weren't so hot, he could feel the sweat on his forehead, and wiped it away with the back of his hand. "They look so perfect together, don't they? Do you know, her mother had him picked out for a few years!" The smaller lady chuckled with delight.

He looked up at the angelic figure making her way towards the priest, under the large canopy that had been set up outside the church. She looked different, but he couldn't quite place it. Her face looked the same, beautiful as she always was, but there was a forced quality to her smile as she stepped delicately towards her husband to be. The ceremony continued, and James got a chance to see the man Olivia was marrying. He was undeniably good looking, but there was an air of arrogance about him that was clear to see. Obviously a well born, wealthy man, the ring he produced glinted with extravagance as he produced it with a flourish for Olivia. She accepted it, plastering a smile onto her face.

James tried to speak to the bride after the ceremony, but there was such a huge crowd surrounding her constantly that he never got the chance. Part of him was too nervous to say anything to her, it had been so long, what would he say? Give false congratulations that he didn't mean? An apology for something that happened 10 years ago? No, there was no point. She had clearly moved on, he would have to just move on too.

Olivia's Diary- Wedding Day, 5th August 2005

How long do I have to keep up this pretense that everything is alright when it isn't? I don't think I can cope anymore.

I hate him, and I am doomed to spend the rest of my life with this man who I married.

He hurts me. I don't know for how much longer I'll be able to hide the bruises, and how scared of him I am. But my parents are happy with our marriage. I guess that's the main thing. It always has been.

He is so arrogant, he thinks he is everything. My parents don't know it, but his business is failing. He may pretend that he is the richest man in the world, but this wedding has exhausted our already non existent funds. He blames it on me. It's always my fault that he has so much debt, he tells me that our wedding was the ruin of him. He screams in my face, hitting me over and over, and then has the audacity to take me to bed with him. I have no choice, he is so much stronger than I am.

I hate him.

5 years on from Olivia's marriage- 8th December 2010

"The loss of such a wonderful life is always a great tragedy..." The priest droned in a monotonous voice, reciting the ceremony.

James sat inside the same church that Olivia had been married at, frozen with horror.

Olivia had been beaten to death by her own husband. No fancy words spoken by a Priest could change that fact. She hadn't died of natural causes, or a fatal accident.

She was murdered.

Her mother and father were crying into embroidered handkerchiefs, their hair styled perfectly, dressed smartly. Olivia's brother held the hand of a young girl, whose brown hair was pinned back in a bun. She looked barely 4 years old, and yet her large brown eyes seemed filled with despair.

That young girl was Olivia's daughter, that young girl would never have a mother or a father.

Olivia's husband had got a life sentence for murder. It was a straight forward case; the evidence was clear, he admitted to guilt, even delighting in the details of his wife's murder. He was a sick, wicked man, and James despised him.

James held in the tears until he was in the parking lot, where he finally broke down and wept.

If only I hadn't let her walk away, this wouldn't have happened. I should have been there for her, but where was I? Pretending, just like she was, that everything was fine. When it never was. I should have seen the signs, oh why was I so stupid?

James kicked a fence in anger, cursing himself, wiping away his tears. He turned his face upwards into the drizzle of rain.

He stood there as the rain picked up, hammering down on him mercilessly. The wind buffeted the trees, sending leaves falling down. The grey sky sent thunder rumbling, angrily accusing James of not doing anything to help his one and only love. All the while he stood there, the rain soaking him, cleansing his mind of the rivaling emotions of anger and grief.

Back to the present

James let out a shaky breath- reliving all those memories of Olivia was not easy. However much he told himself that he had stopped grieving for her, he was only lying to himself. He had never loved anyone else like he had loved her, and he couldn't see himself ever loving anyone else in the same way. While his friends had started families, he had remained alone. And he suspected that it would always be that way.

What hurt the most was never knowing what would have happened if he had helped her, if they had grabbed a chance at being together on that summer's evening so many years ago.

But that chance was gone now, forever.