Have you ever been so enthralled by the idea of someone you overlooked every single one of their flaws, red flags, and disappointing actions? Spoiler alert: that is the definition of me and the problems I create for myself.
I grew up alone and neglected. Mom tried to provide for me by being a dancer but more than not wasted the money on drugs. I never met my dad. Go figure. Ever since fourth grade my English teacher, Mrs. Potts, would look after me. She would buy me new clothes, brush my hair at school, and wipe my tears when I got bullied. I swear I wouldn't be alive without that woman.
Fast forward to my becoming eighteen years old and Mrs. Potts tragically getting into a car accident and passing away unexpectedly. My whole world shattered. The mom I never really had was inside of her. My whole heart and being was made whole by her and poof she is gone.
My heart was heavy as I stood by her casket looking down at her lifeless body. I'd never known death but it came to me quick and emotional as tears welled up in my eyes and rolling down my cheeks. A tear falls onto Mrs. Potts' forehead and I gently wipe my thumb over the wet spot allowing flashbacks to replay in my brain of all the times she wiped my tears growing up.
I remember Mr. Potts placing his hands on my shoulders and giving me a gentle squeeze. I quickly sucked up the tears trying to conceal my emotions. I've never known what it would be like to lose someone. I imagine it is worse for Mr. Potts to lose her considering they have been married for thirty-six years. I faintly remember him whispering that she loved me with her whole heart and that I was the daughter she could never have. Before I realized it, a whimper had escaped my lips and Mr. Potts encapsulated my small frame into a deep embrace as my mascara filled tears stained his white shirt.
As the funeral was over I began walking home, sniffling along the way. I kicked anything in my path. Some stones and twigs, even crunching a few leaves. July is right around the corner. We used to love watching fireworks together. Cars speed past me as my brain races and dark thoughts consume every fiber of my being.
I wouldn't care to be dead. I want to feel nothing. Truthfully, I am lost without Mrs. Potts. What am I to do now? My mother doesn't even know nor care to know where I am half the time. I shove my hands in my pockets and find myself approaching a bench and I take a seat. The wood creaks beneath me. I sigh as the crisp air flows through my nostrils and I try to hold back tears.
"Is this seat taken?" A girl with pink hair looks down at me. I shrug my shoulders as she sits down. "I like your shoes." She attempts to make small talk. I nod. They're just dirty and torn converse. Original. Black.
"Are you like mute or something?" She presses on,
fidgeting her fingers within her palms.
"If I were, how would I respond to that question anyhow?" I scoff. I'm not one for small talk nor for making friends.
The mysterious girl lets out a laugh and raises her tattooed arm to brush the bangs away from her eyes. "You're funny. That actually makes sense. I guess I should learn sign language."
I roll my eyes. What is this? A sitcom?
"So, uh, what're you waiting on?" She asks curiously, obviously not getting the hint I want to be alone.
"To die." I spit.
"How do you expect that to happen just sitting on this bench? You're not doing a good job." A small smirk plays at the corners of my mouth. I try to conceal it by scratching my cheek.
"Can I like help you with something?" My eyes narrow into a line as I glare at her.
"No. I'm just waiting on my brother to come pick me up." I give a small nod in her general direction. "What are you really waiting on?"
"I told you. I'm contemplating death. I want to die."
"That's a little dark," her brown eyes widen in shock as she stares at me.
"Life is dark."
"Not for me! You have to make the best of it which is why I have pink hair and a sleeve of tattoos! Life is beautiful but far too short to be wanting to die on a park bench." Her cheeks dimple into a big smile and I raise my brows, muttering 'hmph'.
"Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" She continues to press on. I can feel my blood starting to boil.
"Don't you think if I wanted to speak to you I would? You're the one keeping this conversation afloat and furthermore why would I tell a complete stranger about anything?" I spout off, crossing my arms in defiance. The girl doesn't budge as she looks at me expectedly.
"The way I see it is I'd rather have a stranger know shit about me than people I actually am acquainted with. At least a stranger will go about their day and no longer care about you after you spill the beans." The girl challenges.
Just as I am about to speak, a man driving a black eclipse comes to a screeching stop next to the bench, nearly taking out my toes in the process. I jump up and shoot him a deathly glare with my arms crossed and a brow raised. He rolls down the windows and locks eyes with mine. We stare at each other for what feels to be an eternity and I can feel the anger seething out of me. Something about the smug expression on his face makes me want to punch him.
"That's my brother, Derek." She motions toward the car. Obviously. "Here, give me your phone." The girl announces.
"I don't have a phone." I can feel her brother's eyes burning into my skin and I shoot him a glance once again mentally telling him to fuck off.
"What? Why? That's crazy. Everyone has a phone!"
"Not me." I say through grit teeth. I start walking away with my hands shoved in my pockets.
"Wait! Uh, give me your arm!" The troll's doll grabs my wrist and I flinch away. "Oh - I - I'm sorry. I just wanted to write my phone number down in case you needed to talk or something.." she trails off.
My initial thought is to run away but the better judgment side of me relaxes my arm in front of her. She grabs a pen from her pocket and writes her number. "Call me anytime you want, if uh, you can find a phone?" I shrug as she jumps into the car and her brother speeds away.
The ink of the pen bleeds into the cracks of my skin and the images of the mysterious girl's tattoos run through my brain. I remember a skull with a flower crown and various other tattoos which I'm sure has some sort of meaning to her. I wouldn't mind a tattoo. Perhaps a portrait of Mrs. Potts the tea kettle from Beauty and the Beast with the little teacup, Chip in memory of my beloved Mrs. Potts and my younger self. I try to reminisce of happy memories of her as I make my way home. If that's what you want to call it.
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Author's Note
Okay hi guys! My name is Emily and I know that's a pretty dark and sad start to the story but trust me and trust the process queens. I have a vision and I'm hoping it'll all go according to plan! I'm very excited about this book and I hope to update weekly. Please drop a follow and a vote and even a comment! Thank you so much!
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Drowning
Teen Fiction"I wouldn't mind a tattoo. Perhaps a portrait of Mrs. Potts, the tea kettle from Beauty and the Beast with the little teacup, Chip, in memory of my beloved Mrs. Potts and my younger self. I try to reminisce of happy memories of her as I make my way...
