Chapter 13
I was such a naive person. I really expected things to get better between the two of us. Just like a fairy tale. The princess has a secret, shares it with the prince, he gets mad but in the end they make it up, marry and live happily ever after and have lots of kids. I rubbed my skin. It was dry and thin and pale. From the medication. Being a princess was merely a childhood fantasy. I wasn't a princess and I wouldn't live happily ever after. I pinched my arm. Softly at first. Then I pinched harder and it hurt. I hated my body for destroying itself. Most people somehow manage to walk away from their problems, but I can't. Can't go anywhere without taking yourself with you, can you? I bit my lip.
For two weeks my routine had existed of sleeping, tending the crops and my chicken and sleeping. I was miserable. Not from the medication. Not the treatment. I was as dead as dead could be, except for the fact I was skipping the part where I die and everyone cries. I had received several mad, concerned and frustrated phone calls from my parents. All I did was pick up the phone and lay it on my desk until I didn't hear them anymore. Then I would hang up. Just so they knew I still lived.
When I heard three knocks on my door, I at first thought it was my mom being overly concerned and yelled for them to go away. I was lying in bed, buried underneath a mound of blankets and I was cold. I didn't want to get out of bed and I was too tired to. Doomed be the world.
"Can't do that, Chels." I inhaled and forgot to exhale. If I didn't answer, he would go away, I told myself.
"Everyone is worried about you," he tried. An uncomfortable silence fell, in which he searched for words I hoped he wouldn't find. "You know, if you would just open the door, I'll be gone before you know it. I just need to see you."
"Fuck off, Vaughn!" I shouted from my bed, angry with his persistence. "You're unwell, Chelsea. Let me in and I'll make you soup," he attempted to sooth me. Nothing could have been more provocative. I jumped out of bed and kicked the door with my bare foot. I merely felt it sting a bit.
"I'm dying, off course I'm sick, you asshole!" I cried against the door, tears stinging in the corners of my eyes. A long silence followed and I sobbed and sank to my knees. I suspected he had quietly left. The coward.
"If you don't open it, I will," I now heard him say with a steady voice. "I know I may not be the best person to be comforting you right now, but I'm here and I care about you and I know you need to hear this." I was mess, from the inside out and he didn't even look like he cared when I opened the door and he hugged me tight. I don't remember ever crying about my loss in such an unrestrained way before. I clenched his shirt so tightly it should have hurt.
"It's going to be alright," he soothed. I weakly attempted to beat his chest with my fists.
"No, it's not, I sobbed, "Why won't you understand?"
He didn't answer and I realised I didn't want him to. Because when he did, he would know all of it was hopeless. I didn't want to take away his hope. I didn't feel the tears roll down my cheeks, nor did I feel his warm breath in my neck. I didn't feel anything. I only realised I was going to catch a cold because neither of us closed the door when he mentioned it.
And it wasn't until the next day that I discovered the desolate flowers he left on my doorstep.
I wanted flowers on my funeral, lots of flowers. They always made me happy.
I know this is chapter is really short, compared to the others and I know I haven't updated this story in a very long time. I know you've heard it all before, but a lot stuff I couldn't postpone came up and I soon came to the conclusion I needed to right some wrongs in my life. It's still an on-going project and I don't want you to expect too much of me right now, but I just wanted to let you know I'm still here and intend to finish what I started.