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[i]Excerpt from the diary of Charlie Decker; December 7th 2017

[color=D3D3D3]“Lang Leav wrote; 

When two souls fall in love, there is nothing else but the yearning to be close to the other. The presence that is felt through a hand held, a voice heard, or a smile seen.

Souls do not have calendars or clocks, nor do they understand the notion of time or distance. They only know it feels right to be with one another.

This is the reason why you miss someone so much when they are not there even if they are only in the very next room. Your soul only feels their absence; it doesn't realize the separation is temporary.

A person died tonight. Someone I didn’t know all that well. What I do know is that person loved someone that they probably shouldn’t. Age and the years that separate us are such insurmountable odds. Love is love, or so they say. I have loved the same girl since I was five years old yet she has no idea. I am no authority on love. 

I ask: is there such a thing as a wrong kind of love?”[/color][/i]

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The sun was rising over another day in Edenridge, Massachusetts. The air was warm but off on the distant horizon; a rain cloud hung like a veil, waiting to shroud the town in the darkness it’s residents fought so hard against.

Clay Costigan was finishing up his patrol as his car circled around the waking Scott Street. He had only been back in town a few weeks and already he had seen some shit. Luckily the previous night he had been assigned to roam some of the more affluent neighbourhoods in Eden, which is what he liked to call an easy shift. Scott Street was the sort of storybook, all American white picket fence type of place you’d only see in glossy teen dramas or movies. It rested on the far side of the lake and was home to the likes of the Mayor and the O’Hara clan. Hell, even Clay’s own parents lived only a block away. Old Edenridge Money. It was strange to think that a short swim across the cold water and you’d wind up just off of Carlisle Avenue and the entrance into the hellmouth known as the Southside. 

[color=BCDD81]“[url=https://media.vogue.co.uk/photos/61b36142a92b1035769f88a2/master/pass/210604_PWE_B_Vogue_Shot_05_078_A2.jpg]Meena?[/url] Heeeeey, girl. How are you?”[/color]

[color=E2BDE9]”You’re back in town? Why didn’t you tell me?”[/color]

[color=BCDD81]“I’m sorry babe, I’ve been super busy getting settled back in and stuff.”[/color]

[color=E2BDE9]"Well, I’m working at the Sinclair Clinic now, so I get that business. I was wondering when we could meet up? It’d be great to see you, handsome.”[/color]

[color=BCDD81]"Errrmm….soon-ish. I’ll let you know. Sorry, Meena: gonna have to go-- getting a call on the radio. Stupid kids doing TikTok shit probably. I’ll be in touch soon. You look dynamite, by the way. Talk in a bit! Byyyee!”[/color] He swiftly hung up his ear piece and sighed. Meena was great but she was what one might call clingy and now that he had Cat in his life as he had always wanted, Clay had to curb those old habits. He realised there were probably a fair few similar phone calls that he would need to make. He loved Cat and he wasn’t about to let his past haunt him.

Pulling his car into park at the end of the road, Clay glanced out to the house on the end of the street; the O’Hara house. Home to the illustrious Coach John O’Hara and his wife and once the home of his children, David and Jamie, once upon a time two of Clay’s closest friends. They were a founding family, a legend and a legacy that had woven itself into the very fabric of Eden. Yet like with any other family unit, they were not a bloodline not without its fair share of demons. 

John had the worst sort of luck. Not only was he a survivor of the Camp Eden Massacre of 1974. His younger sister Mary had run off with some gangster in New York and he hadn’t heard from her in years. He was shot by that godforsaken Charlie fucking Decker and his baby girl had her own issues. Yet amongst this, his greatest shame was his boy, the Duke to most everyone else…David. Poor David.

The thought of David and Jamie; twins, made Clay think of his own sibling, his own other half, [url=https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT8WB7j7zzLYYM8T7wtKZNQGw8pa-mG9nfD7g&usqp=CAU]Lamb[/url]. Laura and Clay were not what one would call close, despite sharing everything from the minute they were born yet that was a story for another time. He felt the need to call her. Lamb worked as a hostess at the Afterlife, so he knew that that moment she would likely be around. Grabbing his phone from the passenger seat, Clayton attempted to FaceTime his sister. On cue, she picked up almost immediately. It may have been early for most but both of the Costigan’ were just finishing their days.

[color=BCDD81]"Hey, Lamby.”[/color]

[color=5584AC]”Clay? It’s like…6:45. Why are you calling me?”[/color] Lamb scratched the back of her head before placing her phone down to continue what she was doing, which looked like cleaning the bar.

[color=BCDD81]”I dunno, I was just finishing my patrol and going past Duke’s. Made me think of you."[/color]

[color=5584AC]”Going by a pedophile's house made you think of me? I feel so loved, big brother.”[/color]

[color=BCDD81]“You know what I mean, Lamb. It’s not… Like, I’m not trying to… I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing. It’s been a minute. You good, you need anything?”[/color]

[color=5584AC]"Right now? A cigarette-- and maybe some blow. Oh! Sorry. Forgot my brother is a cop now. You spoke to Dad recently?”[/color]

[color=BCDD81]”No. Mom’s says he’s extended his stay in Tahiti for another month. Apparently some late charter booking, lotta money and…”[/color] Before Clay could finish speaking, he was startled by a large bang on his window. He turned and saw another [url=https://cdn-img.instyle.com/sites/default/files/styles/1600xflex/public/images/2020/01/013020_victoria_pedretti_lead.jpg?itok=qzrWnUMU]face from his past[/url] staring wide eyed at him holding a piece of paper up against the glass. [color=BCDD81]"Lamby, I’m gonna call you back.”[/color] He dropped the call and threw his phone back onto the seat. He opened the door and climbed out of the patrol car. [color=BCDD81]"Jamie? I didn’t know you were back in town. Are you ok?”[/color]

[color=FFCDD2]“I thought this shit had stopped, Clayton! The fucking police said this shit had stopped!”[/color] She forced the bit of paper in her hand into Clay’s chest.

He looked down at the page and began to read.

[indent][color=C81935][i]December 5, 2016

Dear David:

It’s been a couple of hours since you dropped me off here at home, but I feel like I’m still floating and riding up on cloud nine. [u]You kissed me![/u] I can’t believe you [u]actually[/u] kissed me! Oh my God, I swear it all feels like I’m the star of some Hollywood teen romance movie: when the guy finally realizes the girl has been into him all along. You see, I have to confess that I've been smitten with you since I can remember-- long before the first time I saw you strolling down the halls of Edenridge High in your slim jeans, your white Nikes and that letterman jacket with “O’HARA 23” emblazoned across the back that I'd give everything to show off on myself. I grew up hearing all these stories about you, and I will admit that the things I heard and saw myself did somewhat discourage me from confessing my feelings for a long while. All the girls spoke about how handsome you were (as if I needed to be told what I had already established the second I laid my eyes on you in the first place). My brother and your best friends spoke about how you were one of the most popular and talented athletes the school had, how you were basically considered royalty at Eden yet remained the same goofy, charming and friendly guy everyone knew. But every person that said these wonderful things about you also gave out the same piece of advice: to stay as far away from you as they possibly could, because you were a player who went through girls like nobody’s business.

See, if I had been smart enough to listen to all the warnings people gave about you, none of this would’ve happened. I never would've allowed myself to even entertain the thought of seeing you as something other than one of my brother's best friends. I never would have approached you after the first game to tell you how amazing you’d done out there. I felt like such an idiot doing it, but your genuine smile and praise back had me grinning for the rest of that night, even after I knew you had spent it hooking up with Bailey Darensbourg. You never would’ve made it a point to at least smile at me and say hi every time we saw each other in the halls after that. We never would’ve interacted and flirted on and off, not quite friends anymore but definitely more than just acquaintances. You never would have offered to give me a ride home when the party became too much too soon, and instead of driving back straight away you took me to the most beautiful clearing by the lake near our houses. We never would’ve spent hours talking about everything and nothing, fantasizing about what life could be like outside of our families' shadows, with your strong arms around me pulling me closer to you as we sat in the bed of your pickup truck, with that cozy sherpa blanket keeping us extra warm.

If I had listened to all the warnings people gave me about you, I never would’ve had the guts to let you tilt my chin up to kiss me… And I never would’ve kissed you back with the same intensity and affection I’d been holding back for years.

And for each second your lips were locked in with mine, I felt myself falling for you just a little bit more.[/i][/color][/indent]

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