The Wilted Sunflower

The Sunflower

TW: Themes of depression, drug use, suicide, insecurities, physical and mental issues, and death

I slowly woke up as sunlight filled the small openings of my blinds, unhappy as I was interrupted from a dream. Dreams were some of the only things that gave me pure joy nowadays. It was beautiful. I was sitting on a carpet in a white void. Sunflowers spun around me, rising up. I looked at them in awe, seemingly put in a trance. I was watching them for goodness knows how long it felt before morning brought me back to reality. My brown eyes had dark circles under them, as I had gone to sleep at 4 am and woken up multiple times.

My older brother and sister ran into my room. The twins looked at me, still covered to my neck in my covers, my dirty blond hair tied in braids. I narrowed my eyes at them. "What do you want?" A whined. My sister, Effie, tilted her head. "Well, we got some tickets for a Vincent Van Gogh exhibit at the museum. Liam and I wanted to know if you wanted to come-" I immediately cut her off. "Van Gogh!? As in my favorite artist, Vincent Van Gogh!?" I asked, sitting up quickly. Effie smiled, seeing my expression being filled with my rare pure joy. "I assume you want to come?" She said. I nodded and jumped out of my bed. Liam grinned, "You get ready, alright?" They walked out, leaving me there.

I got into a gray plaid dress with very long sleeves and a bright sunflower stitched on the shoulder. I brushed my hair and kept it down. I pinned it back with a star pin. I put on white socks and stood at my doorway. It was like deja-vu. We did this all the time.

If my siblings and I wanted to go somewhere, either by ourselves or with our dad, the twins would go to Dad, who would most likely be drinking. They would ask if they could go somewhere, and he would usually say yes. We'd go out and come back when we wanted to.

Things had been hard since Mom died. She was the love of Dad's life, but she had a dark secret. I still remember the scene. My 6 year old eyes wide in shock as I stood stiff as a board at parents' doorway, as Effie was screaming at Liam to call the police from behind me. Liam suddenly snapped, "I'M ON THE PHONE WITH THEM! SHUT THE HELL UP!" Liam was usually so calm and collected. Hearing him scream like that made sob. I hadn't really been crying that much because I knew that this was bad, but I was so young so I just didn't understand. But I understood that my mother was gone. Even 9 years later, the memory was still burned fresh into my mind.  Dad had gotten addicted to various drugs and alcoholic beverages. He was usually drugged up or drunk, but we kept an eye on him and made him promise to never get so wasted he would hurt us. He might have been neglectful, but he loved us more than his drugs.

Effie and Liam came over back to my room and nodded. "We can go. Come on." Effie chirped. I walked over and followed my siblings. Effie and Liam were 20 and I was 15. Liam had gotten his driver license, but Effie was still learning. She had failed the first 2 times. She just couldn't grasp the concept that the stop sign meant to stop, and not full speed ahead.

We got into Liam's old, bright blue Volkswagen Beetle. I sat down in the back seat. Effie sat in the passenger and Liam sat in the driver's seat. "The museum is a while away. Take a nap, why don't you?" Effie said, craning her neck to look at me. I sighed but nodded. I laid down across the seats as the car gently rolled down the streets and I quickly slipped into sleep.

I woke up to Effie shaking my shoulder, trying to wake me up. I rubbed my eye groggily. I sat up and stretched trying to get what my mom used to call, 'The Sleeps' out. I slid out of the car and closed the door. Effie offered my hand for me to hold like I did when we were little. I looked down, pretending I didn't notice. She looked a bit sad and looked at Liam. He shrugged and motioned for us to follow him. I put my hands in the pockets of my dress and followed him. Effie and Liam chatted to each other, their contradicting personalities showing in the way they talked, their body language, and how they dressed.