d r o w n i n g [a zoella fanfiction]

s p u r t s ; z o e [p o v]

My grief came in spurts. Not like growth spurts. Nothing pleasant and exciting. It began with a few good days, more smiles, more laughs, and then a drop. Like I was just dangling over a cliff and someone finally got to cutting my wire. Then eventually, after days spent alone, sobbing and screaming, I'd climb out of the hole that is depression, and I'd learn to get on with life, only to be dangled over that cliff again, just waiting, praying someone would catch me if I fell.


No one ever did.


I never had anyone to call over those days. I thought about Tanya, but I knew she probably would be in a worse state than me. I gave in and hit Louise's number one last time, listening intently to her sweet voice, the beep, then the silence. I threw my phone and let the hot tears start their race. Those days hurt the most. The empty ones, where I sat alone, wondering, were not nearly as bad as those.

My mother. I thought of my mother, running down the hall and opening the door, only to sink to my knees and completely lose it. The bed was perfectly made, the pillows arranged nicely. Just how she liked it. I was tempted to throw myself onto the bed. I was ready to never move again, to give up. But I never got to that point. I'd spend hours on the floor in that room, sinking into the plush carpet, screaming out for help. Panic attacks became the norm in my life. Anxiety had control over me.

I spent most days editing pre-filmed videos and posting them just to get the money that my partner sent for each view. I needed it to pay for the grocery deliveries and all the bills. I could have found a real job, but in reality, the best job I found online was at McDonalds, and I had no will anymore. On one particularly impossible day, I lay in bed, staring at the white ceiling, the stain from where Joe had thrown his Coke, the drooping corners from the pure age of my house. I remember rolling out of bed and walking down the hall alone, listening to my own toes and heels on the cold tiles. I found my cell phone, and sat down on my porch, listening to the messages my friends had left me. I was crying a bit for each, but when I finally hit Louise and Alfie's the waterworks began. I held my head in my hands, and screamed. I really loved Alfie, his smile, that way he talked to me like I was the best thing in his life, our jokes, and the nights no one knew about, the nights I spent cuddled up in his arms, my head on his chest, talking about growing old together and kids and cats and all those things that made life worth it. Louise was the first best friend I made. She taught me what it felt like to be normal, she got me through each panic attack and nervous day with ease. We had done stupid, stupid things, but those were the best memories I had of my life before the crash.

I had few neighbors, and the only one who ever spoke to me was Mrs. Mames, a woman who's husband had died years ago. She had two cats and a dog, but I knew how lonely she was. Her family never visited anymore, and she spoke to only our family on the short street. She must have seen me that day, because minutes after the waterworks began, she was beside me, holding me as if I was her own daughter and reminding me of how they were all okay now, that I was going to be okay. She told me how I'd understand one day, that God has plans for all of us, and our loved ones leave us for reasons that we don't agree with, but it does not matter how they left. She invited me to stay at her house for as long as I needed. I agreed to, a few days away from the hellhole I was living in would do me some good.

I suddenly found a reason to live, so I could go to Mrs. Mames in a few hours. It wasn't much of a reason to anyone but me, but I really needed it. I showered, something I hadn't done in 4 days, I dressed in a pair of leggings and a tee, packed a tote with clothes, my phone, money and my blanket from when I was younger. I locked my house, hoping to not return, and walked across to Mrs. Mames little home.

She welcomed me with cookies and a hug. I needed the hug the most, and I wouldn't let go. I started to sob. Nothing that sad had happened then, but the grief that I had kept in for a few hours was overflowing, and Mrs. Mames shoulder was getting the worst of it. She sat me down on the couch, turning on the TV to Disney. I would have usually laughed and asked to change, but they were showing reruns of That's So Raven as a special, and I needed to smile again. I laughed for the first time in weeks, and Mrs. Make laughed to. She laughed despite growing wrinkles and the loneliness I knew she had. She laughed without pain from her husbands death, and that gave me a glimmer of hope, that you can be happy, even after the most horrible things, that you can come to terms with your sadness. I still stay with Mrs. Mame, I come over ever night at 6, and I watch reruns of some show we taped, and I eat a snack. I sleep in her guest room and have pancakes in the morning. Then I head back across the street to face the days.

The spurts got shorter and shorter after my first night with her. That old woman that I talked to once in a blue moon saved me from myself.


[the few who read this must hate me. I'm sorry, but it's been hard to write this since it was my passed Grampy's Birthday a few days ago. I hope you guys liked this chapter, it's just Zoe getting back on track a bit. there's a plot, just wait for it]