Childhood is simple.
Childhood is believing in silly things-like Magic.
Believing that anything can happen; that you will find your prince charming, live in an enormous castle, and never have any worry ever again. Well, if life was that simple, we would all be royalty.
Childhood is this Brilliance of color and wonder- lost in between those years and adulthood. Who knew teenagers could kill?
I knew.
Pleased to meet you, I'm a seventeen year old; Claire Lyons. A child's worst nightmare.
"Why is it," I ask my father, "That we dream?"
He sighs and rustles my hair, as if I was just a foolish little girl and indeed, I was. But six year olds have minds too. Adults seem to forget that. Adults are forgetful of a lot of things. But, of course, children are too. "Claire, you'll understand when you're older."
But that sentence never means anything does it? Every day of my life, at least once, I would get that answer. That nothingness flying off the tips of their tongues. It was a horrible excuse where a simple 'I don't know' would have been accepted. Adults can't allow children that knowledge though. The knowledge that Adults simply do not know everything. I don't know everything and my father certainly didn't. But children, optimistically dippy, think that Adults hold the greatest wisdom when in reality, adults are just learning their way around.
School taught them nothing. Not one of the adults you know were prepared to set off on their own. Their own 'adventure' as a child might call it. But this is no quest for treasure, nor is it the enchanting Neverland- a place where fairies exist and children never grow up. Adulthood is none of those things. Going to Adulthood straight out of childhood would be like a black hole- a swirl of darkness and deception. You think you see a light at the end of the tunnel when its really a train about to push you down, run you over. Life is just one head ache after another.
The teenage years come in between to ease the child into an adult. It's a process, a slow one at that. But the teenage years come stronger than the inventors of it expected. Insecure, hopeless, mixed with pessimistically insane(as if the optimistic kind existed); it's no wonder as to how we all got so screwed up. Popular girls and boys, hormones raging, didn't help us (Massie, Dylan and I).
"Do you think he means it? Does he really love me?" Massie's clear voice, like crystal, rings out in the crowded halls of hell. Just as she says it, we turn the corner to discover her boyfriend of the time, Josh Hotz, making out with none other than slutty Alicia Rivera. Her wannabe friends stood by her side, smirking at us. Kristen Gregory and Olivia Ryan.
She lifted her hand up to her eyes, attempting to catch the salty tears that threatened to fall. But they never came. She has been heartbroken too many times. She was all dried out.
I know crying doesn't work like that, but Massie Block, the strong girl she was, held her head high. She was officially numb to this kind of pain. In fact, she walked right up to him and seethed, "I hope she's good in bed. It would be such a pity for you to throw our relationship away for nothing." she shoved in between them and began to walk away before spinning on her heel and saying, "BTW Josh, you're an asshole. It wasn't nice knowing you."
From then on, the girls who dotted their 'i's with hearts dissolved to nothing; replaced by girls who simply have none of that innocence left. Dylan Marvil, the healthiest red-head the world had ever seen got an eating disorder. Anorexia. We pray for her, or rather we did. But Dylan, (even writing her name makes me cry softly inside) ran from her problems. She ran away from us. Isolated and alone, Dylan let the eating problems get the best of her.
"Claire, I have to go," she confides one night on my room's balcony. "I can't stand being here in the shadows of my perfect sisters, and the stares I get are just awful. They look at me like I'm some caged animal. And they call me names. They say I'm stupid for doing this to myself. I'm scared, because they're right. Do they think I want this? One second they call me an elephant and the next they ridicule the bones that are exposed through the thin barriers of my skin."
"It's not your fault," I shake my head. "They were jealous of you. They made this out of you. But, Dyl, it's not to late to stop."
"It's never to late," she agrees dizzily. The next morning, her bed was found- but no Dylan. To this day, they haven't found her or whatever could be left of her deteriorating body.
I'm afraid of the world.
I'm afraid of myself.
We all get the rush of fear that paralyzes our bodies once in our lifetimes. I get it when I look in the mirror. I look at my curly blonde locks and sparkling blue eyes; two features that everyone envies. But I see right through them. I see myself down to the core. Smiling, spinning, deceiving. I am deceiving. Everyone thinks that I'm a happy person, a kind person. They don't have a clue. I have a traumatizing past, and my future doesn't look so bright either. But I don't dare allow anyone of that information. You want to know my back story? Have at it.
My younger brother, Todd, was killed in a car accident. Along with my mother, Jodi. I was only 5. So I was shipped to Westchester from my beloved home in Orlando. Orlando was the place where dreams came true in magical Disneyland. Where the sun was always shining and the clouds were always shaped like hearts and bunnies. Children that went to Disney failed to realize that after the fantastical world closed for the night, it was just another musty old theme park with trash swept up by the wind and the air polluted with fumes from the metal contraptions children called 'rides'. I don't see them as such. At least not anymore.
Westchester was thrown at me in a whirlwind. My father, an investor, lived in a large house with a butler, a maid and a driver. Next door was the infamous Massie Block. At the time, we were still children ourselves.
"Hi," she sticks her hand out to me, confident as ever. She was holding the brownies her mother baked for me and standing outside my door. Apparently my father made a big deal about my arrival, and I still contemplate whether that was a good or bad thing. "I'm Massie. Massie Block."
"Claire," I reply shyly and take the hand. To be honest, I barely touched it. In my defense, I just suffered the loss of two family members. I had the right to be distant. I still have the right to be distant.
From that day onward, we were the best of friends. I'm talking tea parties, treks through the woods behind our house; imagination transforming it to a magical forest of sorts. Tea parties in the woods even, if we had been watching Alice in Wonderland previously.
Today, we're visiting the woods again. Call it what you want; a trip down memory lane, whatever. I wanted to have a last glimpse at what used to be. What used to make us giggle and jump with glee. What we thought was fun.
"Are you sure about this?" Massie asks, shoving branches out of the way and stomping on crinkled leaves.
"I don't know." I admit sheepishly. "Maybe it'll help us."
"Do what?" she snorted. "Cleanse our souls?"
"Actually," the corners of my mouth fold up. "That's a good idea."
"To cleanse our souls?" Massie raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
I shrug. "Well yeah. Don't you think coming here could do just that? Mass, we deserve that much."
She offers a weak smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes. Her amber orbs haven't had the same spark since middle school. We persist down the path until we reach a familiar clearing. In the center, there was an ornate little table. It used to be a pale pink color but after being out here for almost 12 years, weather has worn that down to a grey. There were several nicks in the wood, probably from animals. Our chairs went through the same, once being green and blue. All of our delicate tea cups had crashed to the ground and were nothing but glass shards. Kneeling down, I pick them up and try to fit some together. After two seconds, I drop them and let a solitary tear trail my cheek. Massie notices before I can wipe it off. "What's wrong?"
My eyes snap shut. "Is it too late to fly away?"
"Claire," she sighs. "If we actually had wings all those years ago, were do you think we would end up?"
"I don't know."
"You want to know where I would fly?" She asks, walking down to the creek bed just a few feet ahead of us. I follow.
"Where?"
She takes a deep breath and stares at the calm water for but a moment. "I would fly to Dyl."
I close my eyes again, letting the breeze sway me. Keeping them closed, I walked forward and stepped out of my flip flops and into the cool creek water. It rushed between my toes. I didn't care about the muddy mush beneath my feet and I didn't care about the tadpoles that brushed against my ankles. Turning, I followed the creek further downstream. Massie follows behind me, giggling softly. Suddenly, her laughing stops. Instead she screams and I feel her splash water as she runs back upstream. Ignoring it, I walk further. Something blocks my way. My foot touches it, a hard clump of who knows what. I peel my eyes open again and look down. I scream as well. Dylan Marvil's rotting body damming the water flow.
Late into the night, the cops are wrapping up their investigation. Massie and I watch from my bedroom balcony, the same one Dylan stood at before she ran away and, well, died. Pacing, crying and wincing, we see them drag her body away on a gurney, wrapped up in plastic so just a single red curl hangs out. TV News reporters are scattered through my yard, flashing their bright lights in the policemen's faces and letting it seep through the plastic; allowing a glance for the world at Dyl's pale, dead face. Massie and I are clinging to each other, sobs coming easier now. More fluidly. I cried to the point where my gasps for air became louder.
Our tears splatter against the ground, much like blood. I'm going through a haze, my memories slam into one another, stunning my mind. I'm staggering back to my room and crashing onto my bed, leaving Massie alone to weep.
Beware Children, Ignorance is Bliss.
Sorry if this wasn't very good. I got the idea for it and I just wrote in about..7 hours? It seems like a long time but lately it's been taking me days to write just one chapter for something..lol
HEY, EATING DISORDERS AREN'T COOL. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL NO MATTER WHAT:) DON'T LET PEOPLE TELL YOU OTHERWISE!
hope you weren't disappointed with thatt..
And btw, sorry I keep making one-shots instead of updating...I keep getting these Ideas and I can't help it! I promise I'll update in the next few days!
xoxo,
natalie:)