sixteen → jade west

of playgrounds and coca cola bottles

Sunlight dappled through the leaves, turning the playground into a tableau of light and shadow. Children's laughter rang through the air, a happy melody punctuated by the soft sound of swinging chains. Amid this joyful cacophony, sat Jade, alone on a swing, a stark contrast in her melancholic demeanor.

Her heart felt heavy, like a stone pulling her down. Her tears were hot and bitter, stinging her eyes and leaving trails on her cheeks. Her dark makeup smeared, a physical testament of her emotional turmoil. Her hands clung to the chains of the swing, the cold metal biting into her skin, but she barely felt it. All she felt was the deep-seated ache, the loss of Beck.

Voices pierced through her daze. An adult, a parent probably, was standing a few feet away, chastising her.

"You're too old to be here, this place is for kids. My child wants to swing."

Jade said nothing, didn't even look up. Another voice chimed in, sharper this time, "Come on, get off. You're not a child."

The words washed over Jade, but she didn't react. The swing beneath her felt like the only thing grounding her in this whirlwind of despair. She couldn't get up, couldn't move, couldn't stop the tears from falling.

"Are you even listening? Show some respect!"

Again, Jade remained silent. She sat on the swing, her figure a dark silhouette against the bright backdrop of the playground. The parents exchanged frustrated glances, unsure of what to do with the unresponsive teenager.

The cries of the children and the impatient murmurs of the parents faded into the background. For Jade, there was only the constant, echoing ache of her heartbreak, consuming her entirely. She sat on the swing, a solitary figure in a world that seemed to move on without her.

*

Jade sank into the familiar embrace of the swing, pushing off the ground to set herself in motion. Her boots scuffed against the soft, worn-out mulch as she pumped her legs back and forth, her long hair whipping in the wind. Her chest tightened with a sort of hollow, bitter pain – a stark reminder of her recent heartbreak.

With her phone perched on the swing next to her, the melancholic strains of "Love The Way You Lie" by Rihanna and Eminem blared through the playground, reverberating off the metal framework of the playground set. Jade loved this song – she found something oddly comforting in its painful truthfulness.

The discordant notes seemed to seep into her soul, their echoes matching the echo in her heart. Her eyes, lined with kohl, stared emptily at the blurred scenery, while the stinging tears prickled at the corners.

"Hey!" a shrill voice pierced through the music. "You're too old to be here! And turn off that music. You're scaring the kids."

Jade didn't look up, didn't even acknowledge the voice. She merely gripped the chain of the swing tighter, her knuckles whitening as she focused on the repetitive motions.

"Did you hear me, young lady?" the same voice demanded, a bit closer now. But Jade remained silent. Her heart ached, but she refused to let it out. The anguish stayed trapped within her, manifesting as a heavy, unshakable silence.

She kept swinging, her hair veiling her face from the reproachful gazes. Even if she felt nauseous from the repetitive motions, it was better than the nauseating pain of a heartbreak. And so, she kept swinging, letting the rush of wind and the blurry world be her temporary escape.

Jade slouched on the bench, the cold glass of a Coke bottle pressed against her lips. Her fingers idly traced over the indented brand name, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Beck - his laughter, his charming smile, and those endearing habits she had come to miss since the break-up.