❛ MY BOY ❜ ʙɪʟʟʏ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴏᴠᴇ

ONE ! barbara hollands story

꧁ ❛ MY BOY ❜  ꧂
ᵇᶦˡˡʸ ʰᵃʳᵍʳᵒᵛᵉ

CHAPTER ONE
BARBARA HOLLANDs STORY

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S DEAD? THEY SAID SHE RAN AWAY."

Sara couldn't believe what Nancy was saying. They were hiding in the girls toilets at school, squashed inside a stall because Nancy knew they would need the privacy. Sara's mind was swarming with emitions; sadness, anger and denial.

"Because they don't know what's out there," Nancy whispered in a frightful tone, her eyebrows raised, "They don't know what took her." She said, pulling out a ripped photograph that had been taped back together. She shook it in her hand, being sure her friend would see the shadow that towered over Barb sat by the pool.   
          Sara remembered that night. Steve and Nancy had thrown a party, one of many might she add, and Barb had left themselves to themselves. Sara was sat alone in her room, not wanting to participate because parties were never her thing.

"I don't understand!" Sara cried, her voice breaking and her eyes watery and red. She sunk, dragging her back down the door and plummeting onto the tiles. She held her head in her palms, masking her tears that were already rolling over her hot cheeks.
"What's going on?"

"Bad things," Nancy replied, crouching down in front of her and placing her hand on Sara's quivering shoulder, "Very bad things, and that's why Barb is dead--"

"Don't say it!" Sara hushed, her eyes frozen with fear and agony as she stared at her. Nancy's eyes were also screaming pain but she had not cried yet, the only evidence that she had earlier were the mascara clumps in her eyelashes.
          Sara didn't want to accept it. She couldn't. She hated the idea that her best friend was dead. A nagging thought in the back of her mind wanted to know how, but she knew it would be too much to find out. It was hard enough coming to terms with the fact that she was dead, let alone how it happened. She wished she had been there, and somehow changed the way it ended. But it was too late.

Barbara Holland was dead. And there was nothing either of them could do about it.

          After several minutes of sobbing, the distraught cries echoing throughout the room, Nancy decided she should go back to the cafeteria for lunch. Sara insisted she stayed in there for a while longer to fix her make-up and hide her tears.
          She stood in front of the dirty mirror and pulled out her small bag from her backpack. Unzipping it, she didn't take her eyes off of herself. She leaned forward, scrubbing a wet wipe over the long, black streaks down her cheeks, being careful not to leave behind red marks as a result of the scrubbing. She then applied another coat of mascara and smiled. It looked believable, if they didn't look into her eyes.
          She sighed, relaxed her face and pulled out an orange tinted lipstick. It was one that Barb had let her borrow and forgot to ask back. It felt wrong to hold it in her hand, but nevertheless, she put it on, smearing it over her chapped lips. She smiled again, allowing the hollow silence to decide whether the smile plastered on her face was good enough. That'll do, she thought.