𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌 || 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖬𝗈𝗆𝗌

Presenting My New Team

TW:

Loneliness can be a dangerous thing.

Surprisingly, I figured that out by staring at a bottle of maple syrup.

The bottle stood in the middle of the table, filled halfway through with the sweet but sticky brownish liquid. The red lid on the top was open and there was a little bubble on the small hole it had. Three of us sat at the kitchen table as we ate breakfast, but instead of eating, I simply stared at the syrup container.

I didn't feel hungry or awake, but I didn't feel tired either. In other words, I was simply there.

The maple syrup bottle was only used when necessary and barely any people consumed the sticky liquid on its own. The only way people would use it was as if it was needed for something else. They'd pour the syrup on top of whatever they'd use it for and then place it back in the same place as before. Sometimes, it was used more than once, but the point was that the only way people consumed it was if they were going to use it for some other thing.

If a bottle was left alone out in the open for too long, it'd go bad and it would be thrown away.

And I wasn't the only one who felt weird that Tuesday morning. Both of my siblings seemed like they felt the same way as we heard our mother's phone conversation from upstairs. She still hadn't told us whatever Evelyn was doing, but it was becoming worse anyway.

I could still hear the ticking of the clock going on in the back of my head.

I had no idea of how long it would be until something big happened, but nothing felt the same anymore.

Nothing was really felt anymore.

I couldn't feel joy. I couldn't feel sadness. I couldn't feel anger, terror, or excitement.

I only felt one thing.

And that thing was shame.

Shame on how I got myself into that situation. Shame on how I couldn't tell anyone. Shame on how I'm burning all of the bridges in my life. Shame on how much of a disappointment I had become in less than a year.

I was Broadway's Golden Girl last year.

This time, I was nothing.

I was a stuck-up spoiled brat who'd talk back at any chance she got. I would be criticized for every little thing I made. I would be hated by millions before I was shown the reason they did. I'd felt as if I had worked hard to get to where I was, but I was always told it had been someone else. Someone else had fought those battles for me and I had gotten them on a silver platter.

And I couldn't bear to imagine the shame my family felt. I couldn't bear to imagine the shame my friends felt.

But I couldn't bear to imagine the immense shame Mrs. Miller must have felt.

It hadn't even been four days and I was already out here putting her in shame but at the same time, a nostalgic feeling came around as the memories we held together came back to mind. Now I was the only one who remembered those things.

And how I wished things were back just how they were before this stupid show started.

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Giselle questioned, placing her chin on the palm of her right hand as she played with her fork ― which held a piece of her second pancake ― by twirling it around in the air, barely over her white ceramic plate.

I looked away from the syrup bottle and locked eyes with hers. From the corner of my eye, I could also notice Zane looking at me. Looking back down at my own plate with my two pancakes drenched in the maple syrup, I pushed it over to her. "I'm not hungry."