Big Girls Don't Cry
Chapter 1: Black
The color black had always had far too many meanings for Velma Kelly's taste. Black could mean darkness, depression, death, and mourning, all washed away, dulled and distorted by drink. Black was for one-night stands and lust in the places love should have been. It had so many meanings, was bound with so many memories, and none of them were good ones. Black had always been Velma Kelly's color and always would be, whether she liked it or not.She remembered a long black dress that swished mournfully as she ran from the chapel, trying to hide the small bulge of her stomach and how gingerly she moved, remembered the rain that made it stick to her trembling form, the rain that hid the single faint teardrop that danced down her ivory cheek. She remembered how she loved that rain, despite her distress. She just couldn't bear to let them see her crying.
She was only seventeen, dressed in clothes that didn't fit her, and in the alleyway, she was all alone. There was nowhere for her to go. She could never go back to her father's house. Rage filled her with the very thought of her family, but how could she even call them that? Family, she spat, her laugh as bitter as the taste of the word on her lips.
Without warning, the memories of yesterday flashed through her mind, as if they were someone else's story, a filmstrip playing before her eyes. She doubled over in rage, hatred, and pain, the world playing before her eyes in shades of black and red, as she was violently sick.
She couldn't go back, not now, not ever. But she knew she had to go back, eventually. She had nowhere else to go, no one else to count on...not anymore.
She savagely wiped away the single tear. Big girls don't cry, she told herself until it echoed in her mind like a mocking mantra. She had taught herself not to cry a long time ago. Crying was for the weak. It always served you better if you hid your vulnerabilities from the world, the enemy. Big girls didn't cry.
Her eyes remained dry and lifeless as she stared out into the cemetery. Her lips parted and a raspy whisper slipped out as if by accident. I can't do it alone.
Velma Kelly woke from her dream to find that her eyes had betrayed her, and her pillow was wet with the tears she had never cried.
Yes, I'm a newbie, so be nice! Corny title, I know, but I was going to name it The Color Black, but that made me think of The Color Purple, and that just made me laugh. To be honest, this story really has no plot...yet, and I'm not even sure I'm ever going to finish it, because I have major spring fever and no time to do anything except write crappy English papers at the moment. So, basically, the fate of this story depends on my current boredom factor, so you're going to have to just bear with me. However, reviews do make me very happy... And I love you all for reading my crappy writing!