A Heart-Shaped Hole

Love is pointless for me.

It seems once I love someone, they either die, or their cursed with some type of illness that could kill them anyway. My father died in a car accident when I was seven, and I wasn't the same after that.

When I was nine, my best friend, Anya, was shot to death by her own mother. I could never hear the name Anya without jumping up and running away from them. Everyone in my family is careful not to mention Anya.

At age ten, my mother was drunk-driving and crashed into a tree. She died, and that left only my younger sister, Christa, and me. I was scared; suppose that she was next to die. What would I have done then.

My worst fear was realized when I was twelve, when we were living with our grandparents, that Christa was diagnosed with diabetes. I felt like dying of heartbreak right there. If Christa didn't take her insulin, she could go blind. Have to get a limb amputated or become paralyzed.

Last year, when I was fourteen, our grandmother died. I was crying so hard that Christa had to take care of me for the entire day while our grandfather was mourning in his chair. She had to whisper calming things in my ear while I was just sobbing into her shoulder.

Now I'm fifteen, and I now have a promise. I will never love anyone again. Not even my own sister. It's time I just put myself first, since I'm the reason why people I loved had died. I'm a curse.

I've been avoiding my sister for three months now, and I hear her talk with her friends about how dumb I am; that I never talk to anyone and I'm probably just too busy cutting myself or crying. I would never cut myself. Christa should just shut up and talk about someone else.

Right now, she's talking about me and I have had enough.

I bang on her room door, then, I just barge in. Christa's eyes bulge and her three friends practically jump back in fear.

"Christa, you want me to talk to you, then I will. Stop talking about because I am not that sad that I can't hear you, and I have never cut myself. Never would I stoop so low that I would harm myself."

Christa is scared, but her friends just look at her with a blank face. "Valentina, I-I... think y-you should leave n-now." I feel anger and fury pulse through my veins and that's when I begin to yell.

"You can't tell me to leave! I am your older sister, and you do what I say, and I can leave this room when I damn well please!" Christa jumps back, and her three friends suddenly come up with excuses.

"Um, I have to go, it's 3:30pm." says the first.

"I have a test to study for." says the second.

"I respect your privacy, so I'm leaving." says the third.

Well said friend number three, well said.

When the door closes after her friends leave, she began to yell at me.

"You just scared away my friends, what's your problem?"

I snort, and then scream, "What's my problem? You're the one that's talking God knows what about me! Why don't you just shut up about me and go ahead and get yourself knocked up you stupid, ignorant brat!"

I regret the words that came from my mouth, when she looks like she's about to cry, and I run out of her room and into the backyard.

I slumped down with my back against the fence, and I slammed my head into it and began cursing. "I am such a horrible person... I just told my own sister to go and get knocked up-" I started crying, when I noticed an empty cut-out on the fence wadded up with paper.

I reached for the paper, and grabbed it with shaky hands. For Valentina C.was written in neat print in pen. Opening the note, it said:

It's me, Emerson, the guy next door. Y'know, I'm sixteen, I go to your school, I'm in the art club, and all that crap. Anyway, you probably may know me, I've seen you before with your sister, Christa, and you always wave at me when you get on the bus to school. If you don't know me, just go next door and knock, I usually hang in the living room, so I'm most likely to answer. If you want to hang some time, you know where to find me. - Emerson K.

Emerson did go to my school, I've seen him before. Although I just waved at him as an act of kindness; I don't know how he knows me.

Crap.

I recall that my poem that I entered in a contest won, and the school newspaper published it. It was called Anya, and it was based on her death. Since then, everyone knew who I was, even people that didn't bother with me.

I also recall that he congratulated me for my win, but he never told me his name. This was in 7th grade however, so I barely could recognize the boy after a two-year span. Incredible how fate works, huh?

Emerson

"Oh, hey Valentina."

My heart immediately just stopped for a brief second. "Oh, uh, hi Emerson, I uh- found the note you left in the heart-shaped- wait how'd that heart get there?" Emerson laughed and said, "Your grandfather and grandmother put it there to represent their love."

I nodded, but I was at a loss for words.

Emerson was right there in my face, and I realized that the boy was attractive then from far away.

You said you'd never love anyone again!

But Emerson is so... wow!

What would you do if you lost him?

I'm not gonna, because we're just gonna be friends.

Whatever you say...

"So, can I uh, come in or..." Emerson laughed and said, "Come on in, I'm not busy at all." I walked into the house, and realized how antique-like it was. It had some modern feel, but it was homely and warming.

I sighed and plopped on the couch, and said, "I'm kind of in a rough spot right now..." Emerson nodded, and said, "What happened, you can tell me, I won't criticize you." I sighed.

"Christa was talking trash about me tp her friends, and then I got pissed at her and told her to go and get knocked up." Emerson stopped for a second, sat beside me on the couch, and he said, "=Ouch, that's kind of harsh, but we all say things that we don't really mean."

I nodded, and I was literally about to pass out when he wrapped his arm around me. "So, when did you leave that note?"

"Like a week ago, didn't expect you to find it."

Emerson was now propping his legs up on the footrest, and my legs were on top of his, his black Converse were entwined with my red Converse. I was leaning into his neck, breathing, and when we looked at each other our faces were dangerously close, and finally our lips connected. I jumped back and said, "I am so sorry... I-I didn't mean to- I have to go."

I tried to forget the hurt look on his face when I bolted back to my house as I fell onto the pillow and began crying.