Drabble. Brat x anyone. I orginally thought it was going to be Butch, but things change. Review?
Death would've been easier, I thought. It would've been so much easier. I sat on the edge of the brown river, my knees pressed defensively to my chest. My arms wrapped around me, the black paint chipping away from every finger nail. My once shiny, long blond hair was now unkempt and uncombed, with tangles and knots strewn about my golden tresses. I stare at my reflection in the murky brown water, but see nothing staring back at me. There's twigs and leaves and a few snail shells floating about in the dirty water, but I don't notice them. They're nothing.
I am nothing.
Dark blue eyes.
Dirty blond hair.
Fat face.
Nothing.
I am absolutely nothing, but this wasn't a surprise. I've always been nothing, but before, I had sisters who were everything to make up for it.
But my sisters are dead now.
And I'm alone.
And I'm nothing.
They used to call me Brat, because I was spoiled and obnoxious, but that was only a joke between sisters. Not another soul would dare to call me that, or my sisters would see to it that they never called anyone anything again.
Now my sisters are gone.
I feel like I'm gone with them.
So I sit by the dark, dirty banks of the dead river and cry my little heart out, until I can't cry anymore.
.
.
.
A boy comes to my bank one day. I don't notice him too much, but I can feel his eyes staring holes into the back of my dirty blue tee shirt. I doesn't know what to think of him, so I don't. I don't think of him, or my sisters, or anything else. I sit and stares at the dirty water, which seemed to have gotten muddier since I've been there.
He sits besides me.
I pretend not to notice. It would've been more effective if the boy's presence wasn't so overwhelming. He seemed to be a kindred spirit. Someone else who lost the people dearest to him.
Someone else who lost their home.
Another nothing.
I don't look at him, and keeps my dark blue gaze on the filthy water, which gets filthier by the second. It's a river of chocolate, with dirt and twigs and dead things floating about the inside.
For a second, I swear I see a frog on the otherside of the bank.
.
.
.
He's the first one to speak. He's always been the first one to speak, even if it's something nonimportant. He doesn't look at the dirty girl with hair like sunshine and clothes like the see. Instead, he focuses on the water ahead of him.
It's dark.
It's dirty.
It's dead.
"You got a name?"
His vocabulary is bad, but his brothers told him that it was okay because he was good. Everything would be okay if you were a good person, no matter how bad you were. You could be the worst person in the world, but you were good, everything would go your way.
Have I been bad, brothers? he thought, staring into the water. He didn't expect an answer, because he's never gotten a response to any of his questions. Instead, he lets out a deep sigh and stares at the corpse-like water, carrying the dirt and sewage of the next town far away from it.
.
.
.
"I'm nothing," I finally answered, my voice raspier than I remembered. I hasn't put it to much use, but I definitely remebered my voice being softer and sweeter than this. I dryly chuckle and turned my attention away from the river in front of me.
Instead, my looks at the grass and mud and dirt around me. The grass is brown in some spots, and slightly green in others. It's not completely dead, but it's on it's way. My toes clench in my black, heavy boots and I wishe that I could feel soft green grass under my feet again.
I looks at him, and is terribly surprised when he looks back at me. I notices he has really large eyes. The kind that you can see your soul and the unoverse and everyone's hopes and dreams in. Big, bright eyes that are amazed at every little feat accomplished, no matter how small. He's a leader, an optimist, and a troublemaker all in one.
And I swear I've never seen anything more beautiful.
.
.
.
"Hi, Nothing," he says, his voice soft and silky. "I'm Nobody."
"Hey," I said, a small smile forming on my face. He doesn't say anything else, but focuses his attention back on the dirty water, so I follow suit.
I don't miss the white water lily that floats without a care in the universe down the almost dead river.