Oneshots

Mirrors and Mistakes

I once knew a girl, at the age of 16, who had nobody to run to. She was alone. She would stand in front of the mirror for hours, contemplating whether her life would get better, wondering if she could ever be like the other girls at school. The girls who would find love easily, who never cried, who stood proudly above everyone else. She wanted to be different. She would stare at her reflection, turning from side to side to see anything to be proud of. She was self-conscious. She wanted to look good. She wanted to walk out the door without feeling the judgemental eyes of the walls around her. She would have never dyed her hair blonde. She looked longer in the mirror, frowning in disappointment. After 1 month of no food and no progress she was ready to give up. She wanted to be everything she's not but she doesn't know how. She showed no happiness in her face, she showed no sign of self-love. She took a deep breath and pushed her golden blonde hair back, watching herself in the mirror.

Every time she sees her face, she cries. She remembers everything that went wrong in her life. She remembers her mother kicking her out for being in love with women. She remembered all the horrible things they said, like 'you're useless' or 'I never wanted a monster in my house'. She remembered all the pointed fingers and laughter for not keeping up with the trends. All these things would run through her head at all times. She never knew why she couldn't be like the others. The real reason is because of her face. The whole left side of her face had a large scar from a car crash she was in at 3 months old. Ever since then, she had nowhere to go. Everyone was scared of her, often using the phrase 'it looks like she crawled out of hell'. No matter what, she couldn't make friends. She couldn't communicate well with others. That was until the night of the party.

October 31st 2001 was the date of the party that would change her life forever. She had just walked up to the house the party was at. It was quite dark out and there were loads of kids trick or treating. She walked into the house full of drunk teens dancing - or more of grinding on each other - and loud chatter. She took in a deep breath before pushing past the sweaty crowd and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of beer and leaned against the counter while watching over the crowd of drunk toddlers. She was then approached by a girl only slightly shorter than her. She had never seen this girl before but her voice had sounded so familiar. They had a short conversation full of flirty comments and laughter. Although after an hour, the girl had to leave. So, they waved their goodbyes and parted ways.

The other girl was quickly forgotten about when the big prank happened. The true reason she was asked to come to the party. She walked back in, walking through the now quiet crowd. She looked around nervously as people began to move away from her. She was confused at first, until she suddenly felt wet and cold. She looked down and saw her red coated clothes. Laughter rang in her ears as she ran out and sprinted home. She was so embarrassed. It was a long run home, as she passed people they laughed or screamed.

When she got home she had decided she had had enough and ran straight upstairs, running into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She turned the shower on, sitting there fully clothed with a blade in her left hand. She sliced her wrist once, twice, and she kept going until her vision slowly blurred. Visions of the girl at the party flashed through her head. Then it hit her. She doesn't need to do this. People do care. Her sisters and brothers care. Her soulmate cares. She can still find love. She can't give up now. She pulled herself out of the shower, grabbing her phone from the counter, and calling an ambulance. The last words she muttered out was, "I'm sorry". She soon passed out, tears falling down her face. She didn't want to die. She wanted to be happy and for people to care. She wanted to feel loved.

Days later, there was her funeral, I sat only a few seats from her coffin. It hurt to look down at her pale face as she laid there lifeless. Her mother cried, telling herself it's all her fault. And then there's me, her older sister, placing flowers over her and wishing her a good rest. The funeral felt like forever, and after, when we buried her, hurt like hell. Watching them place the coffin in the dirt and covering her up. My anxiety told me she could still be alive but deep down I knew she was really gone. Her grave still lays side by side with our fathers grave.

This is the story of my younger sister, Olivia Brown, who ended her life October 31st 2001. 

word count - 893 

This is a new oneshot book. I hope you enjoyed it a please do give me requests.