Author's Note: This was inspired by Marissa Cooper's character from The O.C. She truly is a pretty little broken rich girl. But this girl is a different one. This is her story.
"There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's desire. The other is to get it." -George Bernard Shaw
Glass Figurine
Lying beneath his sheets she realizes that what she has done was a stupid idea.
She tries to convince herself that this is what she wanted, that it was her idea after all. But she knows that that's not true.
She believes that truly she's the type of girl who wants romance and fairy tales. She has never had realistic notions of relationships, but always was dazzled by the whirlwind of excitement and fun. She'd always been a pretty little broken rich girl who snuck out at night to meet the boys who tossed rocks at her window. She'd always been the pretty little broken girl who hid a bottle of vodka in her dresser drawer. She was sad and she was reckless. Her father loved her but from a distance, and only in the wrong ways. Her mother wanted more from her than she could give. They both threw money at her so they wouldn't have to raise her or ever say no.
She was always the pretty little broken girl waiting to be fixed.
But always she'd scare them away. They didn't want her sadness, her tears. They wanted a happy bubbly personality to match her gorgeous exterior. Her perfectly dyed dark brown hair, her long legs that looked fabulous and killer in heels. Her tanned skin, her olive colored eyes, her slender frame. And her smile, which was slightly tinged with sadness. Sometimes she thinks that it's her brokenness that makes her so beautiful. Sometimes.
She wants to stop being ignored and wants to be seen. She's seen the headlines on the gossip rags in supermarkets trumpeting the downfall of young celebrities. Britney. Lindsey. Mischa. Cocaine, heroin, constant drinking and partying. They are train wrecks and yet she thinks they are romantic. There is some kind of beauty in their breakdowns. And even though they fall, they seem to get what they want.
She thought she knew what she wanted, in her tight red minidress and heels. She thought she could handle anyone and anything. No one was as messed up as she was. She wore her sadness on her sleeve, thinking it would make her more lovable, more deserving. She thought she could draw someone in, and pull him close, and he could give her everything she needed.
Like all pretty little broken girls she simply wanted love.
In her tight red minidress and with her sorority sisters she went searching for it.
Dancing is one of the things she's good at. She shakes her hips and runs her hands in her hair, closing her eyes, listening to the beat of the music. She feels boy after boy slip in behind her, wrapping their arms around her, kissing her neck, feeling the smoothness of her skin. It doesn't matter who she's with or where she was. She simply let herself drown in the music, alcohol running through her veins.
She ends up in his room, in the dark. She's sitting on his bed with the skirt of her dress hiked up, while he stands between her legs, roughly kissing her neck and lips. She takes his shirt off and feels the warmth of his chest, pulling him closer. She wants to feel another person up against her. She wants him to take her pain away. She doesn't want to be alone tonight. So she takes her dress off.
And it hurts.
She had always thought she was a girl who wanted romance and fairy tales. Lying beneath his sheets in the middle of the night she wishes he would reach out and touch her again. She wishes he would hold her. But she is no longer a mystery. She is untouchable.
She listens to the even pace of his breathing as he lies beside her. He appears to be sleeping and she wonders if he's pretending.
She toys with the idea of staying and spending the night. But she knows that is not what he wants. He is turned away from her, far and distant.
She slips her dress back on and holds her shoes in her hand. She wishes he could love her. She wishes he would ask her to stay.
She knows she is a pretty little broken girl, so she lets herself cry. She tries to pretend that what happened is exactly how she planned it to be, but she knows she is a girl who wants romance and fairy tales.
In the middle of the night, lying beneath his sheets she wishes that one boy would ask her to stay. But they never do. And so she leaves.
She's a mess. She is sad and she is reckless. She is beautiful and she is intimidating. Her eyes are rimmed with smudged black eye liner and her hair is messy, but in a devastatingly beautiful way.
She is like a glass figurine, fragile and delicate.
She is pretty when she breaks, but really that is all there is to her.