The Misfortunes of Lolita

13 | when lolita left

THIS IS AN UNEDITED AND SIGNIFICANTLY DIFFERENT VERSION OF THE MISFORTUNES OF LOLITA. I AM PUBLISHING IT IN FALL 2021—PLEASE FOLLOW ME ON IG @/ls.akhter and GOODREADS (L AKHTER) TO STAY UPDATED. I am so excited to share TMoL with you again.

Here I am. Here I am, again, right back where I started. I am left with nothing but myself.

- Lolita's writing journal

When Frank tried to open his eyes, it felt like he was fighting against himself - like he was pushing against a brick wall. It felt like someone had glued his eyelids shut, and his lips felt dry, and when he moved his fingers, they felt frozen solid.

He tried again, to open his eyes, and then he stopped.

He could just keep his eyes closed.

He could close his eyes, let out a breath of sigh. Finally. It would all be better, then. He could close his eyes and never open them. If he kept his eyes closed long enough, he'd fall back into the darkness that had been surrounding him for what felt like years. He'd go back to sleep. No more fighting-what was he fighting against, anyway? Why was he fighting to open his eyes?

It was always a fight, his shitty life. Always. Whether it was his father, or mother, or even himself - always a fucking fight.

Why not fall back asleep?

What did he have waiting for him if he opened his eyes?

An alcoholic father. A depressed mother. An overbearing sister. More shitty days at school - and a girl.

A girl with eyes the colour of black coffee, hair as dark as midnight, skin the colour of earth, a stance as shaky as a gust of wind. A girl who kissed his forehead the night before he crashed into the trough of his life, a girl who told him that he was good, and he was good, and he deserved to be happy, and -

"You're so goddamn amazing, Frank." She'd say if she was here, in this darkness. "How the hell did the universe come up with you?"

I love you.

Frank sucked in a large breath, and opened his eyes, blinking, and grimacing when his cheek hurt from the movement. His chest rose up as he heaved, struggling to breathe in through the oxygen mask. He wanted to scream, tell whoever was here to take that thing off his face - it was suffocating.

"He's awake," someone's voice monotonously called, and he turned to find that it was a nurse -

He was in a hospital.

Why?

He closed his eyes again, raising his hand to his cheek where it hurt and then stopping when he felt the tug of wires that were hanging from his wrist.

What the fuck happened?

"Frank!" his mother rushed in through the door, and the nurse held her back. "Frank!"

"Mrs. Novak, you have to wait for the doctor -"

"Don't tell me what to do," she yelled. "I want to see my son."

Oh.

The rush of his memory returning was in no way exhilarating. He felt like he'd just gotten the breath knocked out of him, and he could hear the stream of blood flowing through the veins and arteries in his head, and it was as though there were dull sirens going off somewhere in his brain. A sharp jolt of pain went through his skull, making his jaw tight, his fingers clench into a fist.

The nurse finally decided that she couldn't argue with Martha anymore and let her in as the doctor came inside the room.

"Mrs. Novak, you can't -"