“how fitting for one so fake”
drabble i wrote of ivy a few months post canon
cw for mention of death and abortion
It was hard to believe there would be more. Staring at her reflection in the mirror of her childhood bedroom Ivy Robinson questioned what was next in her life. For someone so young she’d already been through so much; she’d experienced so many milestones — good and bad.
How can someone burn out before they even get a chance to really grow up? Maybe she’d been burning too bright before. Maybe that’s why she was so lost now. She’d wasted her splendor on childish whims and meaningless nights out. Those thoughts — those regrets, had been weighing her down for months. Three months, to be specific. Though a part of her always worried about losing her brilliance. Even before Jason and the funeral and the abortion and the decision to push through and go to college — because how was she meant to afford a gap year when they’re offering her a scholarship and how could she stand to disappoint her mom again? Before it all. She always feared this would come.
The summer after graduation is supposed to be fun, but the day Ivy left the place she’d lived since 6th grade she fell apart even further. No longer did she live with an abundance of people to surround herself with. That day she was left with nothing but herself, the bitter truth of her insecurities, and a new life growing inside her she still had to schedule an appointment to terminate. That day simultaneously felt like just yesterday and forever ago.
Now in a week she would be living in a dorm again, but this time something was so different within her. She knew, even before her arrival, she wouldn’t be able to surround herself with people as a distraction. She no longer had it in her — that outgoing girl had crumbled inside. Her veneer was wiped away and underneath it laid a scared little girl that had been hiding since the first day she began receiving attention at St Cecilia’s.
That little girl had no clue what was to come next. What was she meant to do? She didn’t even know how to be. Who was she without all the veneer? Beneath all the layers she barely recognized herself. She spent years letting everyone else build her identity for her — who was she without other people telling her who to be? Was she simply lost and confused or completely gone? Had the turmoil the last year of high school reduced her to a lonely child or a pile of ash and smoke?
