After the loss of her father, the trajectory of Reese's entire life is knocked down, shattered and destroyed. Seems to her like the silver lining between wanting to live or die was her devotion to skating. An art she had mastered with her father bef...
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It's been 62 days since he died. 67 days since I'd last seen him grin from ear to ear with that never leaving twinkle in his eyes. 72 days since he had prepared that unforgettable Bouillabaisse supper that put me in a food coma for days. 50 days since his funeral. 7 days since I left my room. 48 hours since I'd eaten.
1 day until I return to school.
With my eyes sealed, I listened attentively to the soft, seemingly nonexistent footsteps that inevitably approached my room.
Once the footsteps came to a halt, a hesitant second passed before a feather-like knock was placed on the wooden surface.
Of course, I already knew who the doer was. My fate had been settled and I wished so badly to desperately claw my eyes out of their sockets.
"Reese?" the gentle voice hung in the air for an entire beat. "Reese, won't you eat lunch?"
I wasn't in the mood to talk, so I didnt.
"You can't stay in there forever." The voice was now laced with impatience and annoyance.
I willed my eyes to open, in their weary and drained glory.
I haven't left my room in 7 days.
My sister walked in with a tray of fine china. She balances on one leg as she simultaneously uses the other to carefully push my door closed.
I continue to study my window as I am unable to acknowledge her presence out of sheer exhaustion.
I felt my bed dip slightly, my sister wiggling around to get comfortable while cradling the platter of what I'm assuming was food, in her hands. Despite her best efforts, she fumbles with it anyway.
She taps my ankle so quickly, I'm able to play it off like I never felt it.
The throb in my head is glass breaking, like it has a heart of its own as it hammers down. My eyes are sore and swollen from my countless tears shed in vain. Something like a stab with every blink. My entire body is aching and bruised with grief and self pity.
I was burning up, self destructing.
This time, she shakes my leg.
Rather harshly.
"Mmmh" is all I managed to croak.
The platter is dropped on my ankle, but could be mistaken as being purposefully shattered.
"Ow," I whisper pathetically.
I hear her scoff in disbelief, "seriously look at yourself-" she ventures on all fours in an attempt to reach my corpse but something stops her abruptly. A series of profanities is whispered grimly, shortly after.
"have you been pissing on your bed?" the accusation flies out in utter revelation "where is your shame?"
"Go away June." my own voice surprises me, it's only so often I spoke in full sentences these days.
