TASK 002: (BAILEY PYO’S) MEMORIES
/ peeks into her past , near and far.
a memory of when they felt HAPPINESS
her and arden hadn’t been friends for very long. it’s only been a few weeks since she’s arrived at cape coral. but the other girl is nice, and smart, and so very warm that she’s one of the first people that bailey decides to try with. it’s been a challenge, trying to tell herself that arden is not like the people from her past. so her inquiry on what arden plans to do after this is meek, maybe even hesitant. but still, she asks, and her heart is pounding much too fast for something so simple.
“do you want to come over?”
the offer from arden takes her by surprise. it’s small, but it ignites a type of joy she hasn’t felt in awhile. an excitement, more like. seeing a friends place, unlocking a part of the other that maybe could blossom into more.
she knows she can’t be too excited. it’s too soon, too early to tell, but bailey can’t help herself from smiling. from the possibility of it happening, finding a real friend after so long. it’s perhaps the largest smile arden has seen from her so far, as she nods.
“i’d love to!”
a memory of when they felt PAIN ( anxiety tw )
she doesn’t know what’s happening, really. she just knows she feels like she can’t breathe and it’s too much. too much. too much. too fucking much. she only vaguely recognizes the scenery out the bus window, all vignettes under the filter of her own panic, her own fear. her head is spiraling, thrown off the axis she so desperately tries to cling on to - has tried to cling on to since she arrived in that godforsaken school. she feels like the world is falling in over her head, crushing her under it’s weight and leaving her only broken bones and ruptured insides to drag herself back home. she can’t hold it up over her head anymore. she’s not atlas, she’s just a girl.
but her father expects atlas. expects the strength and perfection, wants the success for her. but she can’t give that to him. so when he finds her crying on the dirty brown couch, back at home in portland, telling him that she doesn’t want to go back, she expects his reaction.
“what the fuck is wrong with you?”
and still, bailey flinches. her heart drops, and the panic she’s felt in ebbs and flows the past ten hours spikes with the way the pain stabs right through her stomach. he screams, paces, cards over the words again and again. ungrateful, lazy, failing. her sisters watch from the stairs, her mother quietly sits off to the side. they watch as bailey feels like whatever is remained of her that she so desperately has clinged on to rip and wash away with the red of her father’s dismay. she shrinks, shrinks, shrinks with the hurt, feeling herself grow small, becoming nothing. disappear with the painting of sheer disappointment in her father’s face etched permanently into wisps of whatever impression she leaves behind sitting on the couch.
a memory of when they felt TRUST
when his steps fall in line with her, all bailey can initially do is blink up, confused at him. she’s not sure why this happened. why he’s here, next to her, walking together off to the building for their next classes.
tybalt song, of everyone in the world? her younger self would’ve thought that was impossible. all these years past, all she knew of him was his strange winking, and words that would make her blush. hell, she didn’t think she’d see him again, at least not for awhile. so when she saw him in cape coral the first time, she didn’t think she’d be someone he’d want to to associate with. yet, he was the one to pull her into conversation, actually engaging instead of regarding it as some business deal.
and strangely, bailey doesn’t push away. it’s only been a few days since he began to hang out with her, and yet, she doesn’t sense any malice from him. they talk casually as they walk. it’s friendly, even. she doesn’t know how it happened, but it did and it’s nice. she thinks, somehow, she trusts him a little now.
a memory of when they felt ANGER
she hates this. she’s looking into the mirror, and she hates the clothes she’s being forced into. hates how she looks in them, hates how her father insists on putting her in dumb dresses. ‘look like a lady’, her ass. the pink is ugly, the way it hugs her boobs makes her want to puke. she feels the anger and disgust raise up in her chest, pulling at the fabric with her hands, frustrated and helpless. bailey is sixteen, for fuck’s sake! she should be able to wear whatever she wants, even to some high uppity dinner party. her mom and dad insist on dressing her, obviously having a distaste for whatever she’s going to pick out. she feels like some doll, fit to their liking to be shown off to some dumb rich friend of their’s. bailey tugs at the fabric, tightening her jaw, body heating up with the frustration.
a memory of when they felt LONELY
one week. one week since she fought with them. and yet it feels like she’s never known the at all. was this was she looked like before? whispering and laughing so freely, sharing knowing glances? seeing them as an outsider now makes her stomach lurch. she watches them, walking past her at the lockers, giggling among themselves as they ignore her. act as if she doesn’t exist -- as if the past 7 years of friendship never happened. never meant anything to them.
and maybe it never did mean anything to them. because that’s what it seems like to her. it never mattered to amanda, or violet, or helena. it definitely doesn’t seem to matter to rose. not rose, definitely not her. what does nine years of pinkie promises and shared tears ever mean to her? the person who got her to speak. to be brave. barely spares her a glance even when they sit next to each other in ap literature.
bailey is disposable to them. she should have known. should have seen the signs. noticed the shared snickers, the secret group chats, the lack of invitations. should have severed herself before they could hurt her.
but she didn’t. she couldn’t. they mean- meant so much to her that she was willing to bear the pain, bear the signs. and now, she’s paying for it. left in this hallway, watching them walk by her like she’s invisible when they used to stop to wait, like some the rat they so claimed she was - feeling completely, and utterly, alone.
a memory of when they felt LUST
it’s not like bailey hasn’t ever kissed people. okay, well, she’s kissed one person before and that was last year at her old college. but still, she can’t be that bad right? not when she seems to be responding well. sure, they’re in the middle of a party, but bailey thinks they’re tucked off into a pretty dark corner in the kitchen. enough that people wouldn’t be walking in on them anytime soon. so maybe, she lets herself go a little.
it feels nice, for sure, even if she’s still hesitant. she’s only just met alia properly tonight, despite having some classes together. but she’s cute, and knows what she’s doing, so bailey meekly rests her hand on the other’s shoulder.
and just as it starts to feel really good, they break away, needing air, panting for breath. bailey looks back at alia sheepishly, smiling so slightly. but all the girl does is stare back. she blinks, maybe a little confused, but eventually, she recognizes the dark look in alia’s eyes. she’s seen it before, mostly in media, or read about it. but to have it directed at her... to know that she feels similarly: the spark, the want, that... hunger. and it absolutely terrifies her.
“i-i’m sorry, i have to- i have to go-” she blubbers out quickly, clumsily, jumping down the counter, bumping into alia. she doesn’t know why she’s so so scared, pulling back so fast. and before she can hear a word of protest or confusion, bailey’s left the house completely.
