shattered pieces // origin self para.
small legs carried her as fast as they could. white dolly shoes skidding against the pavement, the pounding of the sole hitting against it echoing in her ears only second to the sound of her own heart beat ringing in her ears. her throat was hoarse from screaming and her mouth felt dry of words, only devastation as she suddenly found herself crashing into a cold metal surface.Â
the door was shutting before she could stop it, seven year old strength in her fingertips nowhere near enough to pry the car door open. the face of a person that would soon become a stranger, the distant memory or ghost she would grow accustomed to -- her mother. yet, her fingers remained, chipped sky blue finger nails scratching in vein as the car pulled away from the curb.Â
“mommy!” she cried, her throat rough. it was just a desperate screech, a plea. the face staring back at her showed no emotion, tear stained cheeks and empty eyes. the last look. the car was moving, her fingertips slipped and that one last glance knocked the air from her lungs as she wobbled back onto the pavement.Â
people were looking, their faces filled with emotions she couldn’t read. her cheeks grew hot, tears speckled them but she didn’t feel it.
“it’s okay, sweet heart,” it was a breathless comment, her father finally catching up and on his knees beside her, “she’ll come back.”
it was a lie. even she knew that. but as they both sat there on the curb staring at the space where another had once been, it was all they had left. besides each other.
fingernails dug into the skin of her pale arm, but it didn’t draw blood. moon shaped marks could of almost been pretty in a parallel universe, but she was doing it so she wouldn’t scream. the terrible sound trapped inside of her would never escape because this was the time to be strong, not selfish.
she thought about wyatt, about his mother, about the life that she too could of led. she had lived in that world. her and her father had been in the passenger seat of someone on the verge of a terrible mistake and she had a feeling that nobody knew quite how easy it was to fall into bad habits -- and how much harder it was to kick them.Â
from the stall of the girls bathroom, she dialled her fathers number and when he answered and asked what was wrong she didn’t feel herself burst into tears, she just felt the answer; everything. she wouldn’t remember years later, what she had said that day of sophomore year but she would always know her father understood just how important it was to her to spare her friend from any more suffering.Â
snowghoul
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton