The Songs we Sing (Young Love Book 1)

by Kylie Key

  But something in that text had told me he needed me.

  "Hi. Get in." It was a directive that might have sounded harsh, but it thrilled me. I climbed in and he accelerated off while I was still buckling my seat belt. His hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly and he stared at the road ahead. He had a look of intensity that showed he was stressed, his jaw and facial muscles tense. I had never seen Damon like this and I hated seeing it. He waited till we stopped at the first red light before speaking.

  "Thanks for coming," he said, briefly turning to me, but his eyes flittered to the textbook on my lap. "I don't know if we'll have time to go over any chemistry." A smile flirted on his hardened face.

  "I had to tell Dad I was meeting Dominique," I said, "he thinks I'm helping her with her homework which is a joke. I suck at chemistry."

  "Dom is actually pretty good at chemistry," he said with a genuine laugh, his face relaxing. "Hey I'm sorry I'm making you lie to..." He cut himself off mid sentence as the light turned green, and waited till he'd changed lanes before continuing on in a stutter, "I just need someone to...I need to talk. You're easy to talk to. You get me."

  I felt a burst, a glow. Damon had truly connected with me. It hadn't been one-sided, he had felt something special between us...even if it was only talking to each other. I didn't know what to reply, so I said nothing. I could see he was headed towards the beach and a few minutes later he pulled into the parking lot, finding a spot away from other cars.

  Damon turned to me, genuinely apologetic, "I'm sorry for just making you come out..."

  "It's okay," I reassured, but I knew there was more to come. His face twisted in angst.

  "Everything is a mess," he said and he was wringing his tightly clenched fists. "It's all a mess." He blew out a weary breath. "Lauren is making my life hell." He cast a sideways glance at me. "I told you we broke up?" I nodded. "Well she wanted us to unbreak the break up. Which is why you saw her at our place that night. She's talking about giving up her scholarship and coming up to college with me." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I can't take it Ella."

  "Why didn't you tell her no, that you don't want to get back together?" I said candidly. Surely it was that simple.

  "I tried," he said, and he turned towards me, his eyes hooded, "but she does stuff...to herself." I frowned, not having any idea what he meant and his next words were a pained whisper, "She cuts herself."

  I stared at him. "Excuse me?" I knew what he said, I knew what cutting was, but in that moment I couldn't associate and process what it meant. Lauren Nixon was popular, smart, rich, beautiful, talented...ad nauseam. Why would she ever self-harm? Surely she didn't have self-image issues?

  "She gets herself so worked up...and I can't seem to help her." He truly looked broken. "And for once, I don't want to Ella."

  "Um, does she need help?" I asked naively, my knowledge of self-harm limited to a few online articles I'd read. I didn't know anyone who did that. There had been a rumor back in freshman year that a girl who always wore long sleeved shirts used to cut, but I hadn't really cared one way or another. I was personally a bit of a wimp when it came to pain so couldn't understand the attraction. "Perhaps she needs counseling?"

  Damon shook his head and rolled his eyes as if he was exhausted. "We've done all that," he sighed.

  "I'm sorry," I said, "I mean I had no idea. Lauren seems to have it all."

  "Lauren does have it all," he said and he stared out ahead blankly, looking into nothingness. My heart felt for him and I wondered if Dominique knew about all of this. Of course it wasn't something you would gossip about and I knew it was inappropriate but I felt happy that he was confiding in me. "I feel trapped," he said.

  "Trapped?"

  "If I break it off totally, she might do something. And I don't want to be responsible for that." He turned to me. "I care about her and all. But it feels like the whole relationship has just been me constantly trying to pick her up and...and...I'm tired of doing that." His eyes watered, like it was hurting him to speak truth, but he had to open up and release his feelings, the burden was killing him. He sniffed and swiped his palms across his eyes. "I wrote a song," he said, with an attempt at a laugh. "Wanna see it?"

  "Sure," I said and he reached into the back seat for his backpack. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to me.

  Trapped

  Your name is in my heart

  But it's tearing me apart

  Our love died long ago

  But you didn't want to know

  Your eyes won't let me go

  You cling to me for hope

  You want me to save your soul

  But I can't make you whole

  I want you to let me go

  You hold onto me for dear life

  You say you wanna be my wife

  But I'm a boy who doesn't even know

  Which way in life I wanna go

  You control me with your games

  You let me take the blame

  I'm trapped within your hold

  You're destroying my heart and soul

  You have me trapped

  Trapped

  Don't wanna over react,

  I try to leave

  But you always make me come back

  This feels like a suicide pact

  I gulped and swallowed hard. This wasn't a poem or some lyrics, this was gut-wrenching, soul baring honesty. Damon felt like a prisoner, trapped in a relationship he was trying to flee.

  "I should've brought my guitar," he said, "I was working on some chords."

  "I can help," I said, probably a little too eagerly. I tried to taper my enthusiasm, "I mean, if you want. I can help. With the music."

  He smiled. "Working on that song together was one of the greatest things I ever did." He sounded so genuine, so real.

  "Same. It was fun," I said shyly. "I even started writing a song of my own."

  "What? Without me?" He feigned annoyance. "You mean you're breaking up the collaboration?"

  "Hardly," I giggled, "You know we're such a good combination." I giggled again. "I've started thinking about rhyming, all the time...because of you!"

  He grinned. "You rhyme? All the time?"

  "Lame," I said, with an eye roll.

  "Hey, but I'm glad you came," he teased and then his expression turned serious, "I'm sorry I never got back to you about finishing..."

  "It's okay," I said. Clearly he was dealing with bigger issues. And clearly songwriting was his outlet, his way of coping with the impossible situation he found himself in.

  I felt ashamed that I'd overlooked all his wonderful qualities and thought that he was a fraud. Damon was struggling with problems that made my charmed, uncomplicated life seem enviable. I'd been so disappointed that Damon's affections seemed to be with another, that he hadn't seen me as anything other than his sister's friend, but Damon hadn't wanted or needed a relationship. He was desperately trying to escape from the one he was in. What he needed was a friend, someone he could share with, someone who would listen.

  And if that's what he needed, I was willing to be that. And more, I was happy to be that.