dedication | for the lovely z b/c darling, you're absolutely perfect and i really miss you even though that's probably my fault, and i hope that you like this, (:
turn out fine
x
they're only two years old when they first meet; but after all, this is the upper east side, and a meeting at two between two children who could one day be a power couple? it's far too late for their meeting. her name's massie, his name is cam, and when they first meet, he grabs a handful of her brown hair and bites into it — power couple, indeed.
kendra murmurs, "are you sure about this, lily?" she's speaking to cam's mother, sitting across from the table, pulling back cam gently, ignoring the bite marks that form on her wrist, almost as if she's used to this.
"they're going to turn out fine," lily reassures, "just fine."
.
massie and cam start dating when they're twelve years old, just like the perfect little couple that they should be; massie's always head over heels for him, partly because he seems the only boy who doesn't really want her, but it's more than that, much more. he's perfect, a blond haired prince and he's going to be the prince in her fairytale, they'll live happily ever after;
but, life doesn't end up this way. she's only twelve years old when massie realizes that she's not really good enough, not right enough for cam who's just so perfect, and look at her.
she sees the fat on her thighs and how her stomach is so fat, the fat drooping and all she can think that there's a simple way to deal with all of this. she thinks back to the beginning of fifth grade's summer break, when massie and claire made a promise to each other;
massie and claire puilled up in the driveway of a mansion, eyes wide as they stared out the windows, immediately drawing back as their respective parents gave them disrespectful glances, murmuring about how these children had never seen mansions before, but they hadn't. massie and claire immediately ran out of the car, their mouths slightly agape as they watched the servants greet them at the door. they go to the park, minutes later, sitting on the swings, back and forth, acknowledging the presence of two or so older girls, perhaps in seventh grade.
they seemed sort of cranky individuals, but claire and massie were innocent enough to murmur an excited, "hi! do you want to come play with us?" there's a moment of silence between the response, and massie asks the question again, this time a little louder.
the girl standing near the front, holding a pointy stick in one hand, delicately closes a box and gives a smug grin, before replying, "i'm sorry, who are you?"
this time, claire comes up with the energy to reply, "i'm claire lyons, and this is massie. we just moved in down the street on the new york side of east egg, and we're going to octavian country day in the spring. oh, and we're new here. do you want to be friends?" and they're young enough to think that older girls will want to be friends with mere fifth graders.
"i'm sienna, and god, i wouldn't be caught dead looking at you. c'mon girls," she mentions to her followers, who seem to be more like those minions from despicable me, except much more vicious beings with matching outfits and hair and well, everything, who follow in response.
claire and massie look at each other wide-eyed for a moment, before looking at the ground. "promise me, that we'll never be like those stupid girls, mass?" claire asks. "we'll never be like them — not with the ugly makeup, and the mean attitude, always wanting to crush other people. we'll be nice to everybody else, and we'll expect them to be nice. we won't be crushed by anybody, okay?"
and they pinky-swore on it, so that it would never be forgotten.
.
years later, massie thinks back on the pinkie-swear and remembers that that was fifth grade, a summer when they were completely different individuals, innocent even, and sticks two fingers down her throat, and sprays the room over with some sort of air freshener. she notices a strange glow on her face days later, and her parents comment on her becoming thinner, so she thinks that she might be good enough, now.
but sometimes, when she's posing for eighth grade graduation pictures with claire, she notices that claire will always be better than her, because claire's warm and real, and she barely even has to ever true; she's perfect, and massie needs that, she wants it more than anything.
so, she continues sticking her fingers down her throat until air freshener can't mask the smell anymore, and there's a wretched smell of acid in the bathroom, with a thin layer of juicy couture perfume, then chanel. and, it's still not enough. because she stares at the pictures months later, and realizes that claire looks happy and there's fat on massie's cheeks and they look fuller and she's just so ugly—
.
and then a queen's downfall, massie's downfall, it starts with the fire.
but what is fire but an enveloping blanket of warmth and goodness, a gift from the heavens, but it's only a matter of time before the fire explodes, its fiery tendrils wrapping around chafed throats, dragging ill bodies to the realm beneath. life is lived for the few magic moments; and in a world ruled by bank accounts and bloodlines, it pays to have a bestie ( but are the few magic moments worth the pain? ).
massie thinks back to the beginning of a freshmen year of high school; her fingers carefully wrap around curls of hair, splayed out across bony shoulders which conceal a thin frame, carrying the burdens of an aged soul, but she is still young — gloriously young and stupidly innocence, unknowing to the dangers of the world.
everything goes right at the beginning; one of those cute boys with the floppy brown hair and dimples flirts with her, and all eyes on her as massie and claire strut down the hallways. but they were never looking at her, only the beautiful, perfect SO PERFECT IT HURTS claire. or at least that's what she likes to think; that because she loves the world, everybody will love her back — a mind filled with innocence ( stupidity ).
time passes by slowly, and she laughs, sitting in the backseat of a limousine with her best friend, lettuce and cheeses wrapped into thin slices of bread end up in her throat. she eats a froyo bowl with one of those new minions of her, maybe the name was heather, or allie-rose singer, or something like this, and eats sprinkles and red gummy bears, all mixing in her throat filled with delicious goodness, and it's perfect.
high school starts out about two weeks later, and at heart, though she pretends to be a mature teenager, massie is still a little child at heart.
she floats onto a bus, hours early in a morning, and smooths down a dress, launching into enthralling conversation with the individual beside her, and there was no denying the innocence of that smile; the continuation of floating continues throughout the day, and she has friends in all of her classes, and her best friend, claire, is in only two of her classes, but the popular senior girls wave hi to her, and it's all so beautiful and picturesque.
.
weeks later, she's not really perfect anymore — maybe slightly adequate;
but she can't bring herself to stick those two fingers down her throat anymore, partly because then people will think that she's sick and that she needs help so she does everything slowly, and becomes friends with derrick harrington, and practically lives in his penthouse apartment suite. it's only because he has all of these pills and dangerous liquids;
but nobody knows a thing, not even him.
sometimes, she thinks about cam and how everything was supposed to be fine and then one day she brushed lips with derrick harrington, maybe something more but it can't be right because he's not really a perfect prince. cam is the perfect prince to her fairytale, but cam doesn't want her, cam wants claire, because everybody wants claire EVERY SINGLE UGLY IDIOT WANTS CLAIRE BECAUSE SHE'S PERFECT AND MASSIE'S NOT;
and then she breaks down, because trying to so hard to be perfect, to be wanted, it doesn't last for so long, now does it? sometimes, she can't take it anymore because she tries and tries so hard, harder than anybody else to be wanted, and nobody wants her.
( and no, derrick harrington doesn't count because he's not a prince, and no THEY'RE NOT GOING TO TURN OUT FINE AND NOTHING'S OKAY —
.
she cries for days on end;
she cries because nobody wants her, not even her own parents, because she's a silly only child and maybe apparently they wish that claire could have been their daughter, because claire's good at everything, and even if claire doesn't mean it ( and claire never means it, because she's an angel and perfect and massie's an ugly bitch who nobody cares about );
claire always takes everything, because that's just what she does and then massie has to pretend to be her friend, and it just hurts
it just hurts so much, never being good enough, never being perfect; and she needs this perfection, she needs to be the best, more than anything, so massie sticks two fingers down her throat and numbs out the pain, takes the pills, and lies on the cold tiles with a knife in one hand, chanel no. 5 in the other, unconscious for days;
but then again, nobody even notices that she's been gone, do they?
.
perhaps, it ended when she stopped being perfect.
in a way, massie's just been living off a bitchy reputation from middle school, writing more than's needed, always putting in the extra effort, and everybody sees the fourteen page essay and the seventy nine page research paper, but they don't see the horrible grades and those nerve wrecking moments when massie stares down at her french paper, which is completely torn to shreds with corrections in brilliant red ink, harshly permanent.
she's no longer a child, and massie's no longer young and beautiful and life isn't a picturesque princess song so nobody loves her anymore; and the most important thing that nobody likes her and nobody will ever speak to her ever again. she's drowning, then.
lying on her back in a swimming pool, snakes bobbing their fiery tendrils, distinguished rapidly but growing several heads, and they're coming closer. massie crashes into the other fish, dandelions and lilies scattered around and there's a moment where she can't breathe anymore. her head bobs dangerously, her legs bicycling quickly but soon enough they come to stop, and she lets herself go.
and gone away, gone away are the golden days.
.
notes | okay so i have written a few freeverses and a few oneshots and a few stories, so i decided to experiment with drabbles; i wrote this when i first started ffn, in about january of this year, so it's really different from my current writing style, but hope you guys like this! oh, also, today's veteran's day, and i'd like to thank all of the veterans in the world, and all of the sacrifices that they've made to keep us safe; honestly, thank you, (:
qotd | who's your favorite pll character? or, alternatively, which is your least favorite harry potter pairing?