The Cure Chapter 3

Scar's P.O.V.



The first day of college is the first day of your new life, right? This is supposed to be exciting, not terrifying, right? This is supposed to make me better, right? I am supposed to be happy, right? I will make it through, right? I won't have to hurt myself or take the drugs, right?





At least one of those lies has to be wrong.





I saunter down the stairs and glance around. Ian's sitting in the living room. He's holding onto his guitar, ready to play. He strums it once and closes his eyes. It's out of tune. Ian finches and sets his hand on the strings, stoping the horrible noise. He's in his own world, and doesn't notice me.



"It's too sharp," I whisper, softly. He doesn't hear me, but I know I'm right. I tuned Ian's guitar when I was 7 all by myself. I had the ear, I could just tell. I could hear the music in my head. Ian stares at the floor. He can't do it.



Nodding my head, I walk into the kitchen. I grab a water bottle and take a drink. Making sure not to make noise, I set the bottle down, and swallow. The house is so different, so empty. It's missing noise, music.



"Scarlett?" Ian calls. I stand in the kitchen, trying not to make a noise. What's the point? I sigh and grab mywater bottle. "I have your schedule," he says. I roll my eyes and walk over to the living room. I missed orientation for the funerals.



He holds out a pack of papers and leans his head down. His guitar is on the floor. He stares at, hatefully. It's killing him, not being able to tune it. I stand there just unable to talk. "I can't tune it," he mumbles. He looks up at me, pleading. He wants me to tune it?



I blink at him. Pressing my lips together, tears form at the corner of my eyes. I can't do it. It's too sharp. I want to say it, but I can't. I lose my voice and measily walk away from Ian. I can hear him sighing all the way outside. But as I walk to the college, I can't feel the tears running down my cheeks.





Landon's P.O.V.



I scan the parking lot for her car. I can't see shit. I wonder if she's even going to college. If she's taking the same class I am. I just have to keep an eye open for her. I walk up to the school and sigh.



"Landon!" someone calls. Scar? Please be Scar. I turn around to see Dani rusing over to me. Her curly hair flying everywhere. She finally gets to me and holds my arm. "I got a job!" she squeals.



Dani is my next door neighbor. She used to baby sit me and she just graduated from college. Her brown eyes are peircing. Dani's always had a crush on Scar's Brother, Ian.



"Oh. Where?" I ask. She points at the school. "I got a job here! Every week I'm coming here and talking, helping out a bunch of messed kids!" she squeals. My eyes widen. How is innocent Dani going to help a bunch of depressed, stoner kids?



"So if you know any umm... teens in help, tell them to come this Sunday at 4!" Dani squeals. She's glowing. So, Dani's the guidance counselor? Really? How is Dani, who has never heard of heartbreak, drugs, or cutters going to do this? I shake my head and say bye to Dan. I walk inside the school and head to room 402.



This room is so large. God, am I scared. I stare around the room, knowing no one. The professor isn't here yet. About 100 students are here. I look around. And then I see her.



"Scar," I breathe.





Scar's P.O.V.



I sit away from everyone, a copy of Wuthering Heights in my hands. It's a classic book. "Scar," someone says. Please don't know me. Please go away. "Scar," they say a bit louder. Fuck. I turn around and there he is.



Landon.



He stands there in all his glory. 6 foot 3, tall, dark, and handsome. He looks the same, but more mature. He's not a kid anymore. He's not the same, my breath hitches. Everything about his is overwhelming.



His brown curly hair is sophistically cut. His brown eyes are kind and smiling at me. Landon's pink lips are always pressed together, making my heart beat faster. He has flawless skin, a perfect face. He's just so... He's the same, but different.



And so am I.



I'm different. I can't be here with Landon. I can't talk to him. I can't do this. I turn around, and stare at the floor. "I'm sorry, Landon," I whisper, softly. I turn to the front of the class and thank God that class is starting.



"Take a seat," the professor barks. Landon, of course, sits next to me. "Sorry about what?" he smiles. I try not to look at him. I won't say anything. "Scar?" he breathes. The professor saunters to the front of the class room.



"Let's talk about sex." Our eyes widen. We sink in our seats. Now, we're in middle school were the thought of sex is dirty. We blush, giggle, wink and pretend it's funny. Landon, myself, and some others are acting like it's nothing, the rest are immature.



A blonde infront of me fidgets in her seats. The stoner behind me kicks my seat. I want to die. "And let's talk about death."



Oh wow.