This is my first novel/story in a year or so, but equipped with stirred emotions and haunting memories from the past few months, I thought I'd explore the writing world again.
So, be harsh, because I certainly am not up to par and I need as much criticism as possible. Thank you for reading, an even bigger thank you if you comment!
TLM
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Prologue: I Still Mean Every Word
Perhaps today would be the day my life's mood reversed. Maybe today I would wake up exuberant, proudly proclaiming to the world that I was ready to be a normal girl again instead of the morose, peculiar seventeen year old I had become. Imaginably, I would go to school and be welcomed back to the life I had left behind. My friends would accept me into their tight knit group again, I would ease into my previous role as the teacher's pet, and most electrifying of all, maybe if I was overly perfect today, John would come back.
Today wasn't the day though. Everyone says pain will get less as time passes, but I don't believe them. I think they are only saying it so you can face getting out of bed every day. You think, today might be the day, but it never is.
I rolled out bed, hoping to dear heaven I wouldn't collapse onto the plush carpet. I would be lying through my teeth if I said I'd never done this before, but some days I just fell back onto the floor and stayed there, not even bothering to harness the energy to stand. One of my family members would find me there, pull me to my feet, and lay me back on my bed or force me to eat.
That's another hilarious thing about your heart being smashed, you don't even want to eat. Before, I was a decent sized girl who ate whenever she pleased. At this point, it's easier to push my ninety pound body out of bed than my one-hundred-and-twenty pound body. Ninety pounds also means my clothes cease to fit properly, so I can burrow in my now over-sized sweatshirts, hide my frail legs in baggy jeans, and pretend I am okay.
This particular morning, my younger sister marched into my room. She was as small as I was in weight, but tall and possessed a model-like air that I could not understand. "Get up," Alissa commanded in a loud voice, causing me to wince. Another thing about being weak, everything anyone says in a slightly raised voice is a large blow to your body. They will talk and their words will ram into your ears with excessive power, every small pat on the back is a huge slap. "Reece, get up now."
I slid up so I could peer into her eyes. When did my baby sister become this demanding, strong young woman? Why was she so serious? "No." I said, one word so difficult. Protesting is not something for the fragile.
"Reece, I am so sick of this. John broke your heart and left. Is this depressing? Yes. Is this any reason to be lounging in bed all of the time and barely passing classes at school?" Alissa narrowed her slate gray eyes at me as if to say no, it isn't. She didn't know though, what had honestly happened between the two of us. John hadn't broken my heart, I had broken his. She would never know this, and I didn't intend on telling her so. It was too complicated to explain. Heartbreak always is.
"Yes, it is too!" I replied defiantly, bitterness creeping into my tone. "Leave me alone, Alissa. I'm fine." As soon as the words left my lips, I knew this was the wrong thing to say. Alissa raised her sleek eyebrows, her facing displaying what she wouldn't say: you're lying.
Alissa examined her polished fingernails and flicked nonexistent lint off her school blouse. "Cece," she began, and my heart sunk to my toes. She never called me by my childhood nickname any longer, unless there was either exciting news or very terrible news. "John's coming back to Hartmond Collegiate. My friend Lucee knows his sister who told her and Lucee knew what happened during. . ." Alissa trailed off, her olive toned face flushing.
My eyes brimmed with fat tears. "Oh Lissy..." I stood up with newfound strength and my sister enveloped me in her arms. "How long until Joh--he comes back?" His name was like marbles in my mouth, now foreign to my lips.
"Um. . ." Her voice grew faint, she met my eyes. "A few weeks or so. I'm sorry, Cece. This is terrible for you." Mentally, I corrected her with an us instead of you, because this wasn't just bad for me, but also for John.
Terrible was an understatement.
