Just Like Queens
Supermassive Black Hole
I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.
I promised I wouldn’t depress myself.
Yet, here I was, sitting on the swing in the park.
Sitting on the wooden swing is a 15-year-old version of myself. I was crying. People walked by me; old couples, parents, lovers. None of them stopping to see what was wrong with me.
“Mind if I join you?” a male voice asked from behind.
My head shot up in shock and I looked at the boy.
His already big blue eyes widened even more. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning to walk away.
“Wait!” I cried out, reaching out to the stranger. “Don’t go, please don’t leave me.”
I sat in shock for a moment. I NEVER do that. I had gone very low, just for someone to talk to. The thought made me cry even harder.
Next thing I know, strong arms are wrapping themselves around me.
“Shh,” he whispered into my hair. “It’s ok. Tell me all about it.”
I told him everything. About my alcoholic dad, and how he hits me a lot for no reason. About how my mother just stands there and watches. And if I screamed too loud, how she hits me too.
By the time I was done telling him everything, his arms that were once soft and comforting were now stiff. The chest, whose easy breathing was calming me down, now made no movement at all.
“Dear God, please tell me you’re lying!” He whispered harshly, taking my face in his hands.
I moved my eyes from his face. I can see the pain I had caused in him.
“Please tell me you’re just doing this for attention! Please!” he pleaded me with words and eyes.
The tears swelled up again. “I’m sorry,” I half whispered, half mouthed.
“What kind of people do you live with?!”
I smiled at the memory of his passion. The fire I had lit in telling my problems to him.
That day, he gave me his number, and promised to protect me from everything and anything that could possibly happen to me. From tripping over a rock to death, he told me he would stand by me.
I looked at the empty space next to me on the swing. As I stared, I fell even deeper into the black hole that I had created for myself.
I promised I wouldn’t depress myself.
Yet, here I was, sitting on the swing in the park.
Sitting on the wooden swing is a 15-year-old version of myself. I was crying. People walked by me; old couples, parents, lovers. None of them stopping to see what was wrong with me.
“Mind if I join you?” a male voice asked from behind.
My head shot up in shock and I looked at the boy.
His already big blue eyes widened even more. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning to walk away.
“Wait!” I cried out, reaching out to the stranger. “Don’t go, please don’t leave me.”
I sat in shock for a moment. I NEVER do that. I had gone very low, just for someone to talk to. The thought made me cry even harder.
Next thing I know, strong arms are wrapping themselves around me.
“Shh,” he whispered into my hair. “It’s ok. Tell me all about it.”
I told him everything. About my alcoholic dad, and how he hits me a lot for no reason. About how my mother just stands there and watches. And if I screamed too loud, how she hits me too.
By the time I was done telling him everything, his arms that were once soft and comforting were now stiff. The chest, whose easy breathing was calming me down, now made no movement at all.
“Dear God, please tell me you’re lying!” He whispered harshly, taking my face in his hands.
I moved my eyes from his face. I can see the pain I had caused in him.
“Please tell me you’re just doing this for attention! Please!” he pleaded me with words and eyes.
The tears swelled up again. “I’m sorry,” I half whispered, half mouthed.
“What kind of people do you live with?!”
I smiled at the memory of his passion. The fire I had lit in telling my problems to him.
That day, he gave me his number, and promised to protect me from everything and anything that could possibly happen to me. From tripping over a rock to death, he told me he would stand by me.
I looked at the empty space next to me on the swing. As I stared, I fell even deeper into the black hole that I had created for myself.
♠ ♠ ♠
So sue me, it's not a very long chapter, I realize that. I felt the need to write it however.Sometimes, I think it's important that we know how people met.
It shows how much someone cares about someone in that single first impression.
And those are important. At least I think so.
Title credit goes to Muse.
Anyway, comment/subscribe/tell people about it.
I love you all,
Livy <33