Rated T, but fair warning for those who can't handle a bit of graphic content. Maybe next time I won't hold back, and let loose all the gory details. ;) Tell me if you'd like that, and I'd be more than happy to comply.

Enjoy!

She would not let him hold her in his arms anymore. He was not allowed to twirl his finger around her soft tendrils, or gently caress her tummy like he used to. When he touched her, she would flinch, and it shattered his heart to bits. His touch was lethal on her skin. It was as if it tainted her very flesh, as if he was white-hot acid and that he burned it.

It was not always like this.

They sat with so much distance between on the couch, an invisible, palpable, ice-cold barrier between. No one could believe that once upon a time, they held hands and played outside in the pouring rain and lay side-by-side on rooftops during the dead of night. No one would know that they used to discuss life dreams and the world they would live in sometime. No one could see that they used to be happy.

Eli gazed intently her. Her hands lay limp in her lap, and her skin was more pallid than he had ever seen. There were deep purple rings etched under her eyes. Her once brilliant blue eyes were faded, muddled, and unfathomable. Clare stared straight ahead at the television screen, looking dull and broken at the hinges.

She was not always like this either.

When they first met, Eli thought she was golden: absolutely angelic and innocent, having been fortunate enough to not have been marred by the cruel things he had been scarred by. Clare shone with flustered excitement over the little things people often took for granted, delighted over life's hardships. "They give you a change to grow," she had said brightly, with every given dilemma. Always optimistic, always glowing. She lived life the fullest, and she was precious in that way.

But where did she go?

"Can I hold your hand?" he asked tentatively, unable to keep the deep yearning from seeping through his voice.

Clare looked at him, cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. Eli felt his heart suck in weakly from the lack of loving tenderness in her eyes. Half of him harbored anguish that was geared towards her- how could she be as cold to him as she was, when he loved her so much it hurt? How could she continue to sit there, neglecting to acknowledge his presence right up to the moment he spoke? How could she be so indifferent and callous?

She shook her head, turning back to the screen. Part of him withered and died, and the anguish towards himself became more potent. He hadn't yelled at her. He had been nothing but gentle since she came home from her internship that day.

That day everything fell apart.

It had been weeks since then, and it was slowly driving him to the state of insanity.

"Clare, please talk to me," he pleaded softly, gingerly moving over so that he was closer to her. As expected, she cringed at the proximity- but just because he expected it, doesn't make it hurt any less.

"I love you, you know," he said poignantly, slowly reaching over to place his hand over her knee. She sucked in a sharp breath, looking fearfully at the hand touching her. "I'm not going to hurt you," he added, more desperately then he intended.

"I know," she whispered, squirming away. No "I love you too". Nothing.

Eli must have looked quite hurt, because she leaned over to kiss his cheek. The gesture made his heart ache, and he missed it as soon as she pulled away.

"Do you love me too?" he asked, terrified of her answer.

She did not respond immediately, which panicked him very much. He needed answers, lots of them. He needed to know what went wrong, why she was scared of him, why she was refusing to talk, and what had drove her to this point. But most of all, he needed strength to ask her all of this, strength that can only be found in her love.

Clare remained silent, leaning forward to press her lips against his instead. Eli squeezed his eyes tightly and responded with as much ardency, consciously aware that this wasn't an adequate answer. At the moment, though, the importance of one was pushed to the back because he needed this. He craved her.

Fearful of her breaking the much-needed kiss, he kept his hands to himself. He pried her lips open, kissing her more fiercely as they proceeded. To his desperate delight, she deepened the intimacy of the moment by sliding her hands under his shirt. She put both hands flat of his chest, stroking him with her fingers. They were oddly warm, considering she looked so cold, but he didn't complain.

"I'm going to shower," she said once they broke off. Her hands remained on his bare chest, caressing him, causing him to groan in an aroused manner.

"Promise me we'll talk after?" he murmured throatily, savoring her touch.

She nodded, smiling bleakly at him. She then placed a chaste kiss on his belly button.

As she left, Eli felt a twinge of what only described as guilty lust. But oh how yearned for her, how badly he wanted to really feel her again... it was a horrible excuse, but an excuse nonetheless.

Clare came from the kitchen, gazing at him with unfathomable eyes before ambling upstairs. Eli twitched; for a short second, he was about to follow her up. He wanted to, he really did. He knew he couldn't, but he wanted to.

So he pressed his lips together, fumbling for the TV remote. Something caught his eye- a bunch of DVDs he's never seen before sat on the corner of his CD shelf. He squinted at it, and read "summer '12". Now he remembers- vaguely, though. Curiosity immediately ignited within him, and he darted forward with a quick glance at the stairs. He shoved it in the VCR and recedes, watching the screen warily.

His stomach dropped to the ground the instant a beach scene is played out before him. Clare Edwards frolicked about along the ocean shore, dressed in a pretty sundress cover up. He could hear a chuckle from behind the camera as it shook, and immediately he recognized it- it was him.

"I love Eli Goldsworthy!" she yelled, voice blending in with the roaring waves. Her cheeks were flustered as she cupped her mouth, and she was springing all over the place. A bright smile was on her glowing face.

"You're such a dork," he heard himself laugh. The camera shook with more laughter.

She grinned, gesturing him forward. "Spin me like Noah did in The Notebook, Eli! Spin me!"

She twirled round and round, her dress fluttering around her. He remembered how creamy and tantalizing they looked in person, and how he didn't even have to think twice before jumping in. And sure enough, the camera was dropped roughly onto the sand, still facing her direction. He watched himself race towards his girlfriend, clad in black swimming trunks and an air of sheer blissfulness. Eli sat, lips quivering soundlessly as in the screen, he hoisted her up in the air, spinning her around. Her happy giggle melded with his own joyful laughter harmoniously as she wrapped his legs around his body...

Eli threw the remote hard at the screen, which cracked with a loud crash. He couldn't take it anymore.

He sprinted up the stairs, tore through the halls towards the sound of water thudding- towards the shower, no doubt. He was panting, and his ears were buzzing. He skidded to a halt in front of the bathroom door, and acted out of instinct; Eli burst through without knocking.

Her clothes were in pile at the floor. Her sweater inside-out, her pants crumpled on top of it. Swallowing what felt like a stone, he bent down and picked them up. He was trembling as he took a whiff, the smell of her evading his senses.

He wanted to cry.

"Clare," he cried out, not even bothering to respect her privacy. He gripped the shower curtain tightly, pausing to catch his breath, then ripped it open.

All the blood in his body rushed to his feet.

"CLARE!" he screamed, darting forward. His voice was stolen away from him at the end, and his scream was cut off. He was gasping for air, and his head was spinning as he shakily dragged her out of the pounding showers. Weak from shock, they collapsed in a heap on the bathroom floor.

The bathtub was draining excessive amounts of red liquid. Her naked body was scraped and gouged multiple times at her chest, her legs, her stomach, gushing with dark blood. Her drenched hair was covered in scarlet. There was a light clinking sound, and as Eli turned, his throat closed around another scream.

A sharp silver knife.

"Why!" he croaked, shaking her limp body. An anguish sob escaped him, and a violent shudder rippled down his spine. "Why would you-?"

There were scarlet words carved under her breasts by the knife. It read "worthless".

He was in hysterics.

"Wake up," he sobbed, feebly shaking her. "Wake up." If he begged, she would come back. She was simply sleeping, and did not want to be wakened. She was very much alive, as her heart was still beating. Her pulse was weak and wavering, but she was alive. She had to be.

Her eyes fluttered open slightly, and she gazed at him. She gazed, but was not seeing.

"You have pretty eyes," she whispered. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

And she drifted off to a long slumber, leaving the boy who loved and lost to let out a howl of agony.