Through Grass, Grown Tall

”Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” She whispered into the dark, grasping the boy’s hand tightly.

“I mean it’s probably frowned upon, but we’ll be fine,” he urged, grabbing her tighter and pulling her deeper into the trees.

“Chase, this is creepy,” Hunter whined, turning her head at every tree that seemed to be snapping. She felt like there were eyes all around them, hiding and waiting to jump out and grab them.

They walked deeper into the cemetery, giggling quietly and keeping their footsteps soft. They stopped after a moment and walked into a clearing. There were graves all around them in a circle, but far enough away to make her feel at least a little bit more comfortable.

Chase set out a blanket and placed the basket down on the plaid pattern. He sat down and smiled, patting the seat next to him. Hunter looked around nervously before taking a seat next to the boy. “I really am not sure that this is allowed,” she whispered.

“Oh would you give it a break, Hun?” Chase laughed. “We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Loitering in a cemetery? Eating a picnic on the dead,” she replied. “Doesn’t it all seem a bit…cruel?”

“How is it cruel?” Chase argued, a coy smile on his lips. “We are all going to die one day, Hunter. Some of us much sooner than others.”

“Chase,” she scolded, looking away from the boy. She hated when he said things like that.

“You sound like my mother,” he chuckled. “There’s no point in hiding from death. Don’t you love that Deathly Hallows shit? Why can’t you welcome death like a friend?”

Hunter smiled softly, “Aha! So you did watch my, and I quote, ‘stupid little Harry Potter movie’!”

“I mean, I remember a few things,” Chase smirked, rolling his eyes. He leaned over and grabbed a bottle of wine, popping it open and grinning. He pulled sandwiches out from the bag he had brought, as well as a container full of brownies that his mom had made earlier. “Wine, my lady?”

Hunter smiled, grabbed the bottle from his hands and pressed it to her lips, “Now this is definitely illegal.”

“I’m sure you won’t lose your spot as captain of the cheer team because you had a bottle of wine,” he laughed. “Coach Swanson is an alcoholic anyways. My brother saw her at the bar piss drunk the other night.”

Hunter laughed, “She always has this cup at practice. She swears its V8 juice, but we all know. How did your brother even get into a bar?”

“Fake I.D,” Chase grinned. “You can thank him later for the wine.”

She blushed and looked down. “This is wonderful, babe. This whole thing…”

Her boyfriend smiled and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight against his chest. “I love you, Hunter, you know that right?”

She smiled and kissed his lips, “Of course, you’re my sunshine.”

“And you’re mine.”

*

Hunter lay in bed lifelessly, not daring to open her eyes. She could hear steady breathing in the bed beside her. His breaths were jagged, not the normal pattern she was used to hearing—he was older, his lungs weren’t as young. He wasn’t as healthy as she was.

She could taste the strong taste of cigarettes on her own lips; she hadn’t even lit up—they were simply branded with the taste of the man next to her. From the sounds roughly falling from his lips she assumed he had been smoking for quite some time.

He wasn’t that old—not as old as her father, but she was sure that he was at least in elementary school before she had been born.

She opened her eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the darkness that the sun hadn’t risen to wash out. She crawled from the bed slowly, grabbing her underwear and bra from beside the bed on the floor. She placed them on her thin body ignoring the sounds of growling coming from her stomach.

Her head was spinning as she stepped around the room, trying to find her way to the door. She crept out of the room, not bothering to look back at the man that her body ached of. She tiptoed down the stairs ignoring the pictures on the walls of the perfectly decorated house.

She was too drunk last night to notice that the home was too well decorated for a single man. She was too sick to think about the fact that in many of the pictures on the walls there was one woman, usually holding a small child. She was too empty to care that she had probably just torn apart a family.

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Hunter grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the counter that the man had discarded last night and shoved them in her purse that was lying on the kitchen floor next to her dress and heels. She placed the clothing over herself before exiting the front door, and stopping in front of the house.

She pulled out her phone, not surprised to see the blank screen.

After all, who would care that she had gone again? It wasn’t new for her to just…disappear. She sighed and ran a hand through her messy hair, attempting to comb it out as she walked down the street, heels in hand. She walked about a mile, not paying any notice to the feel of blisters growing on the bottom of her feet. She almost craved physical pain. At least it was a feeling at all.

Hunter made her way into a diner, seating herself in the corner of the room. She laid her head on the cool, milky blue colored table and closed her eyes. She could hear the sound of a businessman next to her, ruffling through his morning paper. A writer in the booth across from her used his pencil to scratch his words into paper. A college student sat the bar of the small building, attempting to read a Biology book.

It confused her some days, how life just continued. No matter what happened. No matter who left the world; it never stopped turning for anyone. Hunter would never know these people’s stories or pasts—and they would never know hers.

It was moments like these—moments when the world continued to spin around her while she sat so still and lifeless that she was able to see how truly alone she really was.

No one would care if she wasn’t there.

Not the businessman, not the writer, and not the student.

To them she was like air; she was just another stranger that was a sight of everyday.

“What can I get you to—Hunter?”

Hunter clenched her eyes shut tight. Maybe she wasn’t just a sight of everyday—maybe she just wished she was. She wanted so badly to disappear again but ever since yesterday at the wedding, when she saw his green eyes—she knew it wouldn’t be that easy again.

She had two options in this situation, although neither would be simple. She could pretend the voice that just spoke her name for the first time in years wasn’t familiar. She could lie and pretend that the girl played no part in her life.

Or she could look her in the eyes and begin to once again see her demons.

No matter how far she ran she couldn’t escape.

“I uh, I’ll take a coffee. Black,” she spoke lamely, slowly opening her eyes to look at the raven-haired girl.

Shay Evans stared back at her, her lips apart in what seemed like a mix of disgust and awe. She chewed on her bottom lip as her mouth closed, and she looked off to the side. Her legs were tapping restlessly. Hunter was sure she could have felt the tension from over a hundred miles away.

“Why are you here?” Shay asked angrily, venom spilling from her red lips. Of course she was still mad—she had so many reasons to be.

“I’ll take a coffee,” Hunter said back simply, turning her gaze to her chipping nail polish. She bit on the side of her cheek, trying to control her thoughts. She couldn’t be in this room any longer. It felt like it was closing in on her.

“No one wants you here,” Shay replied, her confidence finding her voice.

Hunter closed her eyes and gulped. She was using every ounce of her will to not wrap her arms around the girls throat, silencing one of the people that knew her deepest secrets. She didn’t need to be reminded that no one wanted her back. She saw it in everyone’s eyes.

Every single person at the wedding reception stared at her as if she had a disease that you could catch by just glancing at her. They would stare at her and when she would glance back their judging eyes would hide; at least she could stare back at them. They were just cowards who spoke in low voices, assuming their whispers wouldn’t be heard.

They weren’t, but they didn’t need to be heard. She knew what they were saying.

Slut, whore, bitch, heartless, murderer, she didn’t deserve to be alive.

They all blamed her, she knew it. In many ways she blamed herself. And the truth was, she didn’t want to be alive.

“I’ll take a coffee,” she said once again, becoming more confident. She didn’t need Shay’s judgments over silly things that had happened years ago. That life ended with his.

She wished she could go back and un-break her best friend’s heart. She wished that she could have for once let the girl win. She would give her all the secret kisses she had, all the ‘I love you’s’ that were kept under a sheet of silence, all of the times her heart raced as she realized it was in the wrong place.

She would have gladly given him to Shay. But she couldn’t—no matter what she wished, she couldn’t take it all back, although every fiber of her being wanted to.

Shay walked away and Hunter sighed, resting her head in her hands and glaring back down at the table. The blue paint was washed away quickly and replaced with a white sign with red letters.

We have the right to refuse service to anyone.

Hunter scoffed and looked up to the fuming brunette. Her hands were on her hips holding tight to the pink material of an apron. “Get out,” Shay seethed, scowling at her with hate in her eyes.

“Shay—

“Get out,” the girl repeated, her voice breaking. There were tears welling in her green eyes as she glared at the floor.

Hunter chuckled unresponsively, stood up and smoothed out her dress. She ignored the eyes of the businessman, the writer, and the student. “I’m sorry John fell in love with me,” she said spitefully, before grabbing her purse and exiting the diner.

She walked quickly, barely hearing the sound of a bell chiming as she ran out. She couldn’t hear the cars honking at her as she ran into the street, ignoring the sounds of tires screeching as drivers slammed on their breaks avoiding her body. All she could hear were voices—thousands of voices in her head screaming. She walked almost at a run, her body shaking and her eyes filling with tears.

They were all there, in her head; Shay, John, Mrs. O’Callaghan, her dad, Eric, Jared, Tim, Garrett. There was one screaming the loudest though, and that was Chase. She felt like she was going crazy.

It was too much—too much for her sober body to handle. She had learned in the past two years to avoid emotion, but here it was ambushing every single nerve in her body. She ran for miles, crying as she relived every bad moment in her life through the voices.

Every kiss, every touch, every fight, every lie, every close call, every heartbreak; it was all there consuming her mind.

Hunter ran into her house embracing the silence as tears poured down her face. Her father and Maggie had left for their honeymoon without anything such as a note or money left for her to eat. Rosie was gone, off for the night already.

Hunter made it to her room, collapsing onto the floor, screaming out loud into the quiet. The voices in her head grew louder, but no one in the physical world screamed back.

She was alone.

Her body began shaking as she crawled across her bedroom floor reaching for the only bag she had brought with her. She poured out its contents searching for a little baggy she had bought days ago. She screamed, her body quivering with sobs as her hands searched and searched for something that couldn’t seem to be found.

She fell onto the floor, her cries making her bones tremor as she rocked back and forth. She stood up swiftly, taking two steps and making it to the other side of the room to a single picture frame that was on her bedside.

It was of her and Shay when they were just six years old, clinging to the leg of her deceased mother. She grabbed the frame and shouted as she threw it against the blank wall that still seemed to be staring back at her.

The frame collapsed to the floor, the sound of glass breaking as it shattered filed her eardrums, repeating itself over and over. She fell into the sharp pile, smiling as she picked up a sharp piece of the broken crystal. She pressed it against her forearm grinning and sighing as blood poured from her wrist.

She didn’t cry from the pain—she relished in it.

Hunter fell back onto her carpet and crawled back to her bag, letting her body attempt to calm itself. She grabbed the backpack and opened the small packet in the front, sticking her hand in and searching once more.

Her lips pulled slightly upwards at the corners as her hand enclosed on three small capsules. She pulled them out, grinning at the yellow pills. She crept into her bathroom and broke the capsules, letting the familiar white powder pour out. It wasn’t what she was looking for, but it would do.

Hunter searched through the bathroom drawers, found an old magazine, and ripped out a piece of the paper. She rolled it tightly, then tore out another piece. She folded it in half and used it to dice out intricate lines. She smiled and plugged her left nostril, before leaning over the powder. She blew out slowly before inhaling swiftly, taking in the drug.

She did line after line before finding herself back in her bedroom, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Her body was on fire and she was sweating, but at least the voices had silenced.

All she could feel now was each and every fiber of the carpet that pressed into her skin. She could vividly feel the air blowing on her skin from the vent above her. Every stimulation on her body was intensified, but other than the physical objects around her, she felt nothing.

Hunter smiled as she got an idea. Her body seemed to float as she walked through the hallway, collecting all the photos of her family. She grabbed every expensive glass item—anything that would break.

She found herself in her room with all the objects, smiling as she threw them all against the wall, watching them shatter. She was killing everything in this house that reminded her of her past. She was killing who she used to be.

She destroyed herself in the dark room for hours, until in an instant, her chest got tight. She felt herself crash onto the floor, searching for air. The room was growing black and spinning. Hunter found the first honest smile on her lips in two years.

If she couldn’t kill herself, she hoped that Molly could.