Desperation Devastation
Concerns/Concerts
I stayed in my room for the rest of the day, not speaking, not moving, not eating and not even letting Tayler in, forcing her to spend a sleepless night on our lumpy sofa downstairs.
I prayed for my thoughts to stop, for my feelings to cease so I could let the incident pass by, yet a part of me was wishing for everything to blow up again, just to know whether I was still alive, breathing and existing on this god-forsaken planet.
The sunrise rolled past and the dusky, early-morning brightness was dimmed by the gray rain-clouds, shadowing the earth, casting a dull wash over the subdued neighbourhood.
A knock on the door sent me crashing out of my daze.
It was Alex, carrying a steaming tray of breakfast. She entered the room slowly and cautiously, as if the carpet was coated in shards of shattered glass. Alex made an attempt to clear off my messy bedside-table. Succeeding, she set the tray down and gingerly took a seat on the corner of my bed, careful not to irritate or disturb me.
“Emile?” She rested a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Emile? Hun, you know you can talk to me, what's wrong?”
I rolled around so my back was facing her.
Please Alex, I wished, please just stop. Don't do this to me, I beg you. No more. No more of this, please...
Alex sighed and stood up. She bent down to pick up the tray of food and slowed to notice something on the floor. Intrigued, she picked up a small note of paper baring the words, "My dearest Emile."
Alex remained there, crouched on the floor, reading the letter from Lance, the expression on her face changing with each word he had wrote.
She stood up, still clasping the letter, her jovial visage painted with an expression of compassion, tinted with venomous revenge.
“Oh, Emile… Is this why?” She asked, returning to her sitting position on my bed.
I looked way, trying to hide the puddles forming in my eyes.
“It is, isn’t it?” Alex queried.
“And if it is?” I mumbled.
“Oh god, it is… How the hell could Lance even think he could do this to you!?” Alex burst out, venting her frustration.
“I don’t know…” I mumbled, trying with all my heart not to cry.
“Shit, I mean… At least you’re talking again. Fuck, I mean…” She sighed and picked up her words from the floor as they tumbled from her mouth.
“Screw it. I’m talking out of my ass here.” She shot me a sheepish grin and regained her composure.
I gave a weak smile but my lips contorted into a sneer at the thought of Lance’s letter.
“So Emile, what are you going to do?” Alex asked.
“Whaddya mean?” I mumbled.
“Take a look at yourself girl! You’ve been couped up in this room for hours! You haven’t showered, eaten and you’ve just started speaking again!” Her words hit me like bullets, I sighed at the thought of how pathetic I had been behaving.
“You need to do something. You do realise that you’re letting him win by acting like this don’t you?” Alex shot through my heart again.
No wonder she’s up here talking to me, everyone knows that Alex is the best persuader out of all of us. When I was about 16 years old, Cassandra was 17, Naomi being the oldest was 18 and Alex was 16, we all tried to get entry into an R-18 Slayer mosh pit. All of us (Except Naomi, being of age) were pulled up at the entrance to the pit and weren’t allowed in. Us, clad in band shirts (Huge fans), heavy make-up and miniskirts were completely gutted and disenchanted at the thought of missing out on an insane concert.
Alex, (Who was actually the most mature looking out of all of us at the time, seeing as Cassandra was short and pudgy, I was tall and lanky and Alex was looking like a goddess.) Held in her fury and walked straight up to the bouncer which must have been twice her size, and instead of screaming at him, began to sweet-talk him using her sugar-coated voice and movie-star smile, to try and get all of us into that damned crowd of screaming people. After awhile, he grinned at her and signaled for us to enter.
“Do you really want to let Lance affect you like this? He knows he’s hurt you by your reaction to this.” Alex said.
“Fucking asshole.” I muttered.
“No, that’s just your pain talking. You love him don’t you? You must because of the way you‘ve been hurt like this.” Alex asked, hitting me with curious eyes.
“I guess I do.” I mumbled, sitting up.
“Well, there we go, some proper movement from you. Do you want to keep him, Emile?”
“Of course I do!” I shot at her, taking her aback.
“Then you’ll need to tell him. Don’t let him go, or you’ll lose him, Emile.” Alex said, standing up.
“Alright, alright, are you finished with the morals?” I said.
“Sure am," She grinned.
"Now eat.” Alex replied, leaving the room.
I prayed for my thoughts to stop, for my feelings to cease so I could let the incident pass by, yet a part of me was wishing for everything to blow up again, just to know whether I was still alive, breathing and existing on this god-forsaken planet.
The sunrise rolled past and the dusky, early-morning brightness was dimmed by the gray rain-clouds, shadowing the earth, casting a dull wash over the subdued neighbourhood.
A knock on the door sent me crashing out of my daze.
It was Alex, carrying a steaming tray of breakfast. She entered the room slowly and cautiously, as if the carpet was coated in shards of shattered glass. Alex made an attempt to clear off my messy bedside-table. Succeeding, she set the tray down and gingerly took a seat on the corner of my bed, careful not to irritate or disturb me.
“Emile?” She rested a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Emile? Hun, you know you can talk to me, what's wrong?”
I rolled around so my back was facing her.
Please Alex, I wished, please just stop. Don't do this to me, I beg you. No more. No more of this, please...
Alex sighed and stood up. She bent down to pick up the tray of food and slowed to notice something on the floor. Intrigued, she picked up a small note of paper baring the words, "My dearest Emile."
Alex remained there, crouched on the floor, reading the letter from Lance, the expression on her face changing with each word he had wrote.
She stood up, still clasping the letter, her jovial visage painted with an expression of compassion, tinted with venomous revenge.
“Oh, Emile… Is this why?” She asked, returning to her sitting position on my bed.
I looked way, trying to hide the puddles forming in my eyes.
“It is, isn’t it?” Alex queried.
“And if it is?” I mumbled.
“Oh god, it is… How the hell could Lance even think he could do this to you!?” Alex burst out, venting her frustration.
“I don’t know…” I mumbled, trying with all my heart not to cry.
“Shit, I mean… At least you’re talking again. Fuck, I mean…” She sighed and picked up her words from the floor as they tumbled from her mouth.
“Screw it. I’m talking out of my ass here.” She shot me a sheepish grin and regained her composure.
I gave a weak smile but my lips contorted into a sneer at the thought of Lance’s letter.
“So Emile, what are you going to do?” Alex asked.
“Whaddya mean?” I mumbled.
“Take a look at yourself girl! You’ve been couped up in this room for hours! You haven’t showered, eaten and you’ve just started speaking again!” Her words hit me like bullets, I sighed at the thought of how pathetic I had been behaving.
“You need to do something. You do realise that you’re letting him win by acting like this don’t you?” Alex shot through my heart again.
No wonder she’s up here talking to me, everyone knows that Alex is the best persuader out of all of us. When I was about 16 years old, Cassandra was 17, Naomi being the oldest was 18 and Alex was 16, we all tried to get entry into an R-18 Slayer mosh pit. All of us (Except Naomi, being of age) were pulled up at the entrance to the pit and weren’t allowed in. Us, clad in band shirts (Huge fans), heavy make-up and miniskirts were completely gutted and disenchanted at the thought of missing out on an insane concert.
Alex, (Who was actually the most mature looking out of all of us at the time, seeing as Cassandra was short and pudgy, I was tall and lanky and Alex was looking like a goddess.) Held in her fury and walked straight up to the bouncer which must have been twice her size, and instead of screaming at him, began to sweet-talk him using her sugar-coated voice and movie-star smile, to try and get all of us into that damned crowd of screaming people. After awhile, he grinned at her and signaled for us to enter.
“Do you really want to let Lance affect you like this? He knows he’s hurt you by your reaction to this.” Alex said.
“Fucking asshole.” I muttered.
“No, that’s just your pain talking. You love him don’t you? You must because of the way you‘ve been hurt like this.” Alex asked, hitting me with curious eyes.
“I guess I do.” I mumbled, sitting up.
“Well, there we go, some proper movement from you. Do you want to keep him, Emile?”
“Of course I do!” I shot at her, taking her aback.
“Then you’ll need to tell him. Don’t let him go, or you’ll lose him, Emile.” Alex said, standing up.
“Alright, alright, are you finished with the morals?” I said.
“Sure am," She grinned.
"Now eat.” Alex replied, leaving the room.