♡
When you are 17 years old, you feel as if you are on top of the world. As if you are immortal and that nothing in the world can stop you. That nothing can hold you back or hold you down. But it is that mindset that puts you in situations that change everything that you once thought was set in stone.
That was the mindset I had growing up. That the boyfriend that I have had since I was 15 was one that I was going to marry, that the house that I had lived in my whole life would be the one that I would live forever in. I never thought that life could take so many turns without anyone holding on.
But the biggest one that I have ever had was the moment that I looked at the little cheep plastic stick and knew that nothing was going to be the same.
It was hard to believe even now looking back how only one night can change everything, how one plastic stick can lead you to crying waterfalls, and how the one person you always thought would be there for you could walk out so easily.
Even though I did choose to go down the road less traveled, I was and still am never ready for what is around the untraveled bend. But I am too far in to turn back now.
That was the mindset I had growing up. That the boyfriend that I have had since I was 15 was one that I was going to marry, that the house that I had lived in my whole life would be the one that I would live forever in. I never thought that life could take so many turns without anyone holding on.
But the biggest one that I have ever had was the moment that I looked at the little cheep plastic stick and knew that nothing was going to be the same.
It was hard to believe even now looking back how only one night can change everything, how one plastic stick can lead you to crying waterfalls, and how the one person you always thought would be there for you could walk out so easily.
Even though I did choose to go down the road less traveled, I was and still am never ready for what is around the untraveled bend. But I am too far in to turn back now.
Comment 3 likes
*I do not own the Hunger Games or the characters. Also, I am currently reading the first book, so if any of the information is wrong, please message me. Other than that, enjoy.
------
Walking to the city center in my nicest light floral dress that my grandmother made for me just a year ago and holding onto my mom holding onto my hand tightly, as if she thought that if she let go just a bit I would fall form her grasp and into the unknown. I could feel the blood and all feeling I had leave my hand, but I never let go. Something was happening, all of the adults knew, even the older kids, but yet all of the kids that were around my age, we were clueless as to what was going to happen. But I knew from the look on everyone’s face that it was not something good.
The peacekeepers shuffle everyone in as if we are cattle going to slaughter, and on the stage, a woman with white colored hair, a pale face, and a bright purple suit stood at the podium with two rather large bowls on either side, all filled with what looked like strips of paper. The chatter going on around me was like the sound of a shaken nest of wasps. I tried to hear people’s conversations to figure out what was going on, but it was all muffled as my mom and dad stood on either side of me, holding me close.
It felt like hours had past until the anthem played, and a man appeared on the screen. The man was the new and current President of Panem, President Halifax. After President Snow died almost a year ago, this man was sword into office. He was young, handsome, but yet something about him made my skin crawl, and the sound of his voice was raspy and cold as he spoke.
“Hello people of Panem, from District 1 and all the way to District 12. I am here to inform you of a new change that we have passed through. Today will be the start of a new revolution, of a new stage to bring back the history of Panem. In all Districts you have been gathered to your city centers so that one male and one female between 12 and 18 will be chosen by your escorts to represent you district in the 76th annual Hunger Games.”
My heart stopped, and the grip my mom had on my hand grew even tighter. I looked up, my dad’s face was full of rage, and my mothers was like sone, as if they knew that there was more to it.
“Now, I hope that the 24 that are chosen feel honored to be represented in this way. To bring back the games. After all, this is a piece of Panem history. Thank you, and I will speak to you all soon.” The screen turned back and the symbol of the Capitol played before turning off. Everyone was silent, not a peep was heard. Everyone’s eyes were on the woman standing on the stage, her smile on her face, but even that was hiding hatred towards the president and the capitol.
“Welcome to the reaping for the 76th annual hunger games! Let us let the boys go first this year!” She said in a voice that was forced to be cheerful. I watched as her hands glided over the papers, my hand unconsciously slipping into my fathers hand as if I was trying everything to keep myself down onto this earth.
“Damien Oller!” The name boomed over the speakers and everyone looked around for Damien. Soon, a boy that looked at least 3 years older than me walk form the mass crowd and up onto the stage. I could see fear in his eyes, but yet he was trying to be strong.
My mom always told me how things like this used to be televised so that after the two tributes were chosen then everyone could watch all around Panem. So, if you wanted to make a good expression, you had to look strong, strong so the other districts would see you as a threat, even if you were falling apart inside.
“Now, for the female tribute.” Effie said as she put her hand over the bowl. I felt as my mom leaned over and whispered something into his ear, and I knew that it was not good. I looked up but their eyes never looked down.
It felt like hours as her hand dug through the slips of paper. My breath was held until I watched as she pulled a strip of paper out. I could see her nervous, like there was something more to it than just pulling a slip out of the glass bowl. Then I heard the name, it felt as if the whole world had stopped turned, as if my eyes went depth, and everything I had planned in my future was gone in an instant.
“Rue Mellark!” My name was yelled again through the microphone and everyone looked back to me. I gripped my mom and dads hands harder, not wanting to let go, but I could hear as the Peacekeepers walked over and separated me from my parents from force. But the whole time from the moment that they called my name I have been feeling an out of body experience. Like I had no control of my body, but yet I did at the same time.
Before I knew it, I was on the stage, looking out over the crowd. I could not remember my legs bringing me up, but I knew that there was no going back. I searched for my mom and dad’s face, but the crowd was so mixed up I could not find them.
Even though I had all of district 12 looking up at me, for the first time in my life, I felt alone.
------
Walking to the city center in my nicest light floral dress that my grandmother made for me just a year ago and holding onto my mom holding onto my hand tightly, as if she thought that if she let go just a bit I would fall form her grasp and into the unknown. I could feel the blood and all feeling I had leave my hand, but I never let go. Something was happening, all of the adults knew, even the older kids, but yet all of the kids that were around my age, we were clueless as to what was going to happen. But I knew from the look on everyone’s face that it was not something good.
The peacekeepers shuffle everyone in as if we are cattle going to slaughter, and on the stage, a woman with white colored hair, a pale face, and a bright purple suit stood at the podium with two rather large bowls on either side, all filled with what looked like strips of paper. The chatter going on around me was like the sound of a shaken nest of wasps. I tried to hear people’s conversations to figure out what was going on, but it was all muffled as my mom and dad stood on either side of me, holding me close.
It felt like hours had past until the anthem played, and a man appeared on the screen. The man was the new and current President of Panem, President Halifax. After President Snow died almost a year ago, this man was sword into office. He was young, handsome, but yet something about him made my skin crawl, and the sound of his voice was raspy and cold as he spoke.
“Hello people of Panem, from District 1 and all the way to District 12. I am here to inform you of a new change that we have passed through. Today will be the start of a new revolution, of a new stage to bring back the history of Panem. In all Districts you have been gathered to your city centers so that one male and one female between 12 and 18 will be chosen by your escorts to represent you district in the 76th annual Hunger Games.”
My heart stopped, and the grip my mom had on my hand grew even tighter. I looked up, my dad’s face was full of rage, and my mothers was like sone, as if they knew that there was more to it.
“Now, I hope that the 24 that are chosen feel honored to be represented in this way. To bring back the games. After all, this is a piece of Panem history. Thank you, and I will speak to you all soon.” The screen turned back and the symbol of the Capitol played before turning off. Everyone was silent, not a peep was heard. Everyone’s eyes were on the woman standing on the stage, her smile on her face, but even that was hiding hatred towards the president and the capitol.
“Welcome to the reaping for the 76th annual hunger games! Let us let the boys go first this year!” She said in a voice that was forced to be cheerful. I watched as her hands glided over the papers, my hand unconsciously slipping into my fathers hand as if I was trying everything to keep myself down onto this earth.
“Damien Oller!” The name boomed over the speakers and everyone looked around for Damien. Soon, a boy that looked at least 3 years older than me walk form the mass crowd and up onto the stage. I could see fear in his eyes, but yet he was trying to be strong.
My mom always told me how things like this used to be televised so that after the two tributes were chosen then everyone could watch all around Panem. So, if you wanted to make a good expression, you had to look strong, strong so the other districts would see you as a threat, even if you were falling apart inside.
“Now, for the female tribute.” Effie said as she put her hand over the bowl. I felt as my mom leaned over and whispered something into his ear, and I knew that it was not good. I looked up but their eyes never looked down.
It felt like hours as her hand dug through the slips of paper. My breath was held until I watched as she pulled a strip of paper out. I could see her nervous, like there was something more to it than just pulling a slip out of the glass bowl. Then I heard the name, it felt as if the whole world had stopped turned, as if my eyes went depth, and everything I had planned in my future was gone in an instant.
“Rue Mellark!” My name was yelled again through the microphone and everyone looked back to me. I gripped my mom and dads hands harder, not wanting to let go, but I could hear as the Peacekeepers walked over and separated me from my parents from force. But the whole time from the moment that they called my name I have been feeling an out of body experience. Like I had no control of my body, but yet I did at the same time.
Before I knew it, I was on the stage, looking out over the crowd. I could not remember my legs bringing me up, but I knew that there was no going back. I searched for my mom and dad’s face, but the crowd was so mixed up I could not find them.
Even though I had all of district 12 looking up at me, for the first time in my life, I felt alone.
Comment 2 likes
*I do not own the Hunger Games or the characters. Also, I am currently reading the first book, so if any of the information is wrong, please message me. Other than that, enjoy.
------
Growing up, I told about the games that were once played, played in areas. They where brutal and inhumane games. Sacrificing the life of 23 children between the ages of 12 and 18 every year, and letting one claim the glory of the Hunger Games.
Those were 23 children that had a family, a future, and dreams. They were killed so that people would have something to bet on, something to keep them entertained and to talk about until the next year. Well, that was before my mother volunteered as tribute and walked onto the field, forever changing the way that the game was played, and forever changing Panem’s future.
After years past, after the cities got rebuilt, things looked as if they were getting better. Like everything was going up; but one thing that I have learned in 13 years of my life is that nothing good lasts forever.
“Rue, wake up, it’s time for breakfast.” My mom, Katniss, says softly as she opens the door to my small but yet comfortable room. I am lying in bed, not asleep like she thought based on the look on her face. There is dirt still under my nails and my hair still holds particles of the woods within the brown strands. “Are you okay?” She asks softer as she walks across the small space, sitting down next to me. She pushes my dirty, forest smelling brunette hair from my light and pale face.
“Just a bad dream, that’s all.” I tell her as I pull my hair back before feeling her hands take over. I feel as she braids the hair gently, criss-crossing each section until tying it at the end to keep it out of my face. “But it is over now, and I know that it won’t come true anytime soon.” I say as she turns so that she is sitting next to me as I give her a reassuring smile, telling her that I really am okay.
As she nods and gets up, I watch her disappear from my bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen. My mind is still filled with what had happened in the dream, and the feeling of change in the air from the forest just the other day. The feeling of change coming, and not of a good change. And from the feeling of the wind I got that flowed through the trees, it would not be long.
The more I think about it, the more I know that I cannot just sit here and think it over, I will go mad. So, I have to get up and start doing something, start going on with my day. And that is just what I force myself to do. I get up, slip out of my pajamas and into my favorite jeans and tee shirt, and slipping on my black and older riding boots that still have dried mud on the bottoms. I look into the mirror that is propped against my wall. I look tired. I look dread.
Pulling away, I walk downstairs, my dad is reading the paper, my mom is grabbing some bread, cutting it up into small slices, slipping them onto a plate. The bread looks fresh, and the jam looks homemade. Slipping into the chair next to my dad, I smile at him as I grab a slice of bread, spreading the jam over the top and taking a small bite. My stomach is in knots, for reasons I cannot piece together.
As my mother sits down across from me, we look like the picture perfect family. Like there is not a thing wrong. Like your “normal” District 12 family. But we are so much different. I just have to say my last name and they know who I am, or even my first name in The Seams.
But our quiet, and simple breakfast is ruined by a knock at the door. I look at my mom confused as she gives the same look to my dad. Getting up, he walks out of the kitchen and closes it behind him. I try to listen, but the kitchen door is thick and all I can hear is the murmurers. Looking over at my mom, I know that even she is confused, waiting on my father to come back into the kitchen to tell us what is going on.
It feels like ages until he comes back, the look on his face is not a cheerful one. He walks over, standing at the head of the table. The suspense is killing me. I watch as he puts his hands on my mothers shoulders just like he always did when ever he was about to break bad news.
I watch as he bends down to whisper into my mom’s ear, her eyes grow big with fear. My dad looks back up at me, he is scared and his voice is monotone. “We have to go to the city center. Now.”
------
Feedback is appreciated.
------
Growing up, I told about the games that were once played, played in areas. They where brutal and inhumane games. Sacrificing the life of 23 children between the ages of 12 and 18 every year, and letting one claim the glory of the Hunger Games.
Those were 23 children that had a family, a future, and dreams. They were killed so that people would have something to bet on, something to keep them entertained and to talk about until the next year. Well, that was before my mother volunteered as tribute and walked onto the field, forever changing the way that the game was played, and forever changing Panem’s future.
After years past, after the cities got rebuilt, things looked as if they were getting better. Like everything was going up; but one thing that I have learned in 13 years of my life is that nothing good lasts forever.
“Rue, wake up, it’s time for breakfast.” My mom, Katniss, says softly as she opens the door to my small but yet comfortable room. I am lying in bed, not asleep like she thought based on the look on her face. There is dirt still under my nails and my hair still holds particles of the woods within the brown strands. “Are you okay?” She asks softer as she walks across the small space, sitting down next to me. She pushes my dirty, forest smelling brunette hair from my light and pale face.
“Just a bad dream, that’s all.” I tell her as I pull my hair back before feeling her hands take over. I feel as she braids the hair gently, criss-crossing each section until tying it at the end to keep it out of my face. “But it is over now, and I know that it won’t come true anytime soon.” I say as she turns so that she is sitting next to me as I give her a reassuring smile, telling her that I really am okay.
As she nods and gets up, I watch her disappear from my bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen. My mind is still filled with what had happened in the dream, and the feeling of change in the air from the forest just the other day. The feeling of change coming, and not of a good change. And from the feeling of the wind I got that flowed through the trees, it would not be long.
The more I think about it, the more I know that I cannot just sit here and think it over, I will go mad. So, I have to get up and start doing something, start going on with my day. And that is just what I force myself to do. I get up, slip out of my pajamas and into my favorite jeans and tee shirt, and slipping on my black and older riding boots that still have dried mud on the bottoms. I look into the mirror that is propped against my wall. I look tired. I look dread.
Pulling away, I walk downstairs, my dad is reading the paper, my mom is grabbing some bread, cutting it up into small slices, slipping them onto a plate. The bread looks fresh, and the jam looks homemade. Slipping into the chair next to my dad, I smile at him as I grab a slice of bread, spreading the jam over the top and taking a small bite. My stomach is in knots, for reasons I cannot piece together.
As my mother sits down across from me, we look like the picture perfect family. Like there is not a thing wrong. Like your “normal” District 12 family. But we are so much different. I just have to say my last name and they know who I am, or even my first name in The Seams.
But our quiet, and simple breakfast is ruined by a knock at the door. I look at my mom confused as she gives the same look to my dad. Getting up, he walks out of the kitchen and closes it behind him. I try to listen, but the kitchen door is thick and all I can hear is the murmurers. Looking over at my mom, I know that even she is confused, waiting on my father to come back into the kitchen to tell us what is going on.
It feels like ages until he comes back, the look on his face is not a cheerful one. He walks over, standing at the head of the table. The suspense is killing me. I watch as he puts his hands on my mothers shoulders just like he always did when ever he was about to break bad news.
I watch as he bends down to whisper into my mom’s ear, her eyes grow big with fear. My dad looks back up at me, he is scared and his voice is monotone. “We have to go to the city center. Now.”
------
Feedback is appreciated.
Comment 3 likes
*I do not own the Hunger Games or the characters. Also, I am currently reading the first book, so if any of the information is wrong, please message me. Other than that, enjoy.
------
The woods. A place were calmness has taken over, a place where no one gets hurt. A place of peace and unknown wonders. This is a place where I can come, a place where I can just let go and just just be a peace. The damp mud that lies under my feet, the fallen branches that break under the weight of my feet, and the cool breeze that hits my face as it flows through the greening trees.
My brown hair is pinned in a braid that is lying on my back, the black riding boots whose bottoms are covered in mud crush the dead leaves under my feet, and the black leather jackets keeps the cool wind off my fair skin.
I engrave a heart into the fallen log that I am sitting on with the knife that still has a few blood stains from the previous kill the night before. Sure, I did not have to hunt for food, or game to trade as much as my parents did, but still, knowing that at even 12 I could still make it on my own in this wide world.
But my attention is broken when I hear the sound of a mockingjay singing a song in within the trees above my head. It is a soft tune, a calming tune. I listen and close my eyes, letting the music sink in and soon I start to echo it back. It is a quiet day in the woods, no big game running through the bushes or the trees. Just the birds flying above to their nests.
But that is just it. It is quiet. No animals running through, no calls of wild cats to one another, or dogs barking at the rabbits. Something does no feel right in the air. Like something is about to change. But that is what scares me the most, is what the change will be.
------
The woods. A place were calmness has taken over, a place where no one gets hurt. A place of peace and unknown wonders. This is a place where I can come, a place where I can just let go and just just be a peace. The damp mud that lies under my feet, the fallen branches that break under the weight of my feet, and the cool breeze that hits my face as it flows through the greening trees.
My brown hair is pinned in a braid that is lying on my back, the black riding boots whose bottoms are covered in mud crush the dead leaves under my feet, and the black leather jackets keeps the cool wind off my fair skin.
I engrave a heart into the fallen log that I am sitting on with the knife that still has a few blood stains from the previous kill the night before. Sure, I did not have to hunt for food, or game to trade as much as my parents did, but still, knowing that at even 12 I could still make it on my own in this wide world.
But my attention is broken when I hear the sound of a mockingjay singing a song in within the trees above my head. It is a soft tune, a calming tune. I listen and close my eyes, letting the music sink in and soon I start to echo it back. It is a quiet day in the woods, no big game running through the bushes or the trees. Just the birds flying above to their nests.
But that is just it. It is quiet. No animals running through, no calls of wild cats to one another, or dogs barking at the rabbits. Something does no feel right in the air. Like something is about to change. But that is what scares me the most, is what the change will be.
Comment 4 likes
Chapter One.
“Daisy, time to wake up.” My mum said as she opened the door and shook my shoulder lightly. Rolling over and my blonde hair falling over my face, I looked up at her in a daze. Smiling and sitting up in bed, I just smiled at her bright and loving face. “I will be downstairs, dad has already left for work.” She said lightly as she left the room, leaving the door open and my alone.
Today was the day I had to open up my mum’s store and work in the morning. After being at her all evening about her working too much alone, I finally broke through and got the morning shift. And getting dressed and making myself look as awake as I could, I grabbed my bag and walked downstairs, knowing that from the house to the store it was a 15 minute walk, and I was too broke to take the train.
"Bye mum, I will be home around 1." I said as I kissed my mum cheek and grabbed my cardigan and her purse, fixing my shirt and tights in the mirror before walking outside into the cool 7am morning London air. As I walked down the sidewalk, I smiled over at the neighbors, as I walked down the street At the moment, all I could think about was what needed to be done at the store, and how I could make everything easier for my mum around the store. But soon, as I walked down the street father, I could feel my stomach growl. That was when I remembered that I never grabbed anything to eat, that I was running on empty and working till 1 in the afternoon. I walked a bit faster to the cafe on the street corner, and joining in with a small line for the counter. Watching as people order and move out of the way, I pull my wallet from my purse as I came to the counter, ordering something simple, but yet something that would keep me full until lunch.
“Thank you, we will call your name when it is ready.” The worker told me. I slipped the change into my bag and walked over to the bar overlooking the street. I knew that I had a little less than an hour before work, so pulling out my sketch pad, I scared to draw. Draw my dreams like I always did. A lot of the pictures where of the stories that my mum told me about a space man that changed his face that traveled in a police box that could go anywhere in time and space. As I flipped to a picture I had been working on of a old blue police box, the door open and inside was as if a spaceship lived inside of it. Adding to the depth, I felt the pencil slip from between my fingers and roll across the floor.
“Crap.” I said softly as I got up and walked over, stopping the pencil with my foot and picking it up, but not before seeing that the pencil was against's someone's foot already stopped in its trail. "Sorry." I said lightly, my brown eyes that matched my dad’s and my blonde hair like my mum’s falling into my face. Getting up, I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I felt so stupid, but I just smiled up at the man with the bow tie before walking back over to her sketch pad and continued sketching the police box with the shadow of a man standing behind it. Not taking in the man who I had just met, and just zoning out into my own world. But as I started to shade the mysterious space man, something about the man’s face, something about the stranger. That was how I pictured the man in the picture. How I had pictured the spaceman.
Looking back over at him, he was looking at me, sitting alone at a table and acting as if he was reading the post, I could tell that he was trying to figure me out just like I was trying to figure out him. Who was this man. And why did I feel like I already knew him?
“Daisy, time to wake up.” My mum said as she opened the door and shook my shoulder lightly. Rolling over and my blonde hair falling over my face, I looked up at her in a daze. Smiling and sitting up in bed, I just smiled at her bright and loving face. “I will be downstairs, dad has already left for work.” She said lightly as she left the room, leaving the door open and my alone.
Today was the day I had to open up my mum’s store and work in the morning. After being at her all evening about her working too much alone, I finally broke through and got the morning shift. And getting dressed and making myself look as awake as I could, I grabbed my bag and walked downstairs, knowing that from the house to the store it was a 15 minute walk, and I was too broke to take the train.
"Bye mum, I will be home around 1." I said as I kissed my mum cheek and grabbed my cardigan and her purse, fixing my shirt and tights in the mirror before walking outside into the cool 7am morning London air. As I walked down the sidewalk, I smiled over at the neighbors, as I walked down the street At the moment, all I could think about was what needed to be done at the store, and how I could make everything easier for my mum around the store. But soon, as I walked down the street father, I could feel my stomach growl. That was when I remembered that I never grabbed anything to eat, that I was running on empty and working till 1 in the afternoon. I walked a bit faster to the cafe on the street corner, and joining in with a small line for the counter. Watching as people order and move out of the way, I pull my wallet from my purse as I came to the counter, ordering something simple, but yet something that would keep me full until lunch.
“Thank you, we will call your name when it is ready.” The worker told me. I slipped the change into my bag and walked over to the bar overlooking the street. I knew that I had a little less than an hour before work, so pulling out my sketch pad, I scared to draw. Draw my dreams like I always did. A lot of the pictures where of the stories that my mum told me about a space man that changed his face that traveled in a police box that could go anywhere in time and space. As I flipped to a picture I had been working on of a old blue police box, the door open and inside was as if a spaceship lived inside of it. Adding to the depth, I felt the pencil slip from between my fingers and roll across the floor.
“Crap.” I said softly as I got up and walked over, stopping the pencil with my foot and picking it up, but not before seeing that the pencil was against's someone's foot already stopped in its trail. "Sorry." I said lightly, my brown eyes that matched my dad’s and my blonde hair like my mum’s falling into my face. Getting up, I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I felt so stupid, but I just smiled up at the man with the bow tie before walking back over to her sketch pad and continued sketching the police box with the shadow of a man standing behind it. Not taking in the man who I had just met, and just zoning out into my own world. But as I started to shade the mysterious space man, something about the man’s face, something about the stranger. That was how I pictured the man in the picture. How I had pictured the spaceman.
Looking back over at him, he was looking at me, sitting alone at a table and acting as if he was reading the post, I could tell that he was trying to figure me out just like I was trying to figure out him. Who was this man. And why did I feel like I already knew him?
Comment 4 likes
Prologue.
Hearing the front door close, I look up from the toast that I have been nibbling on for the past 20 minutes as I try to study for my exams, but with my luck, my mind is in another world and I can’t get it back. But looking over my shoulder to see my mum walking into the house, her eyes look tired and her hair a mess, I could tell it was not a good day at the boutique that she owned with my grandma.
“Bad day?” I ask as I get up and toss the nibbled toast into the garbage can and turned back to her, leaning on the counter like I can’t see it in her eyes how she is overly stressed out.
“Two people could not make it in, and seeing as it is the weekend before Christmas, the store was flooded.” She said as she tried to calm her voice down, setting her phone onto the counter and grabbing a water form the fridge.
“You could have called me, I would have come to help mum.” I said, again like I always do.
That was one thing about my mum, she never enjoyed asking for help, and when it came to me wanting to help her, she would never let me. It was a tick that I wanted to break her up more than anything.
“No, you have your exams to study for. Anyways, the weekend is over. So, how about I have dad pick us up some Chinese for dinner.” She asked looking over at me with a warm and motherly smile that I fell trapped too every time.
Nodding, I walked over and wrapped my around her, my head on her chest and my eyes closed. Sure, I was 17 years old. But something about being in my mum’s arms, just knowing that she was still there, it made me feel safe, like nothing in the world could ever hurt me. I could feel one of her arms warp around my back before having the other lift my head up so we were eye to eye.
“You have his eyes, Daisy.” She said lightly before kissing my nose and just pulling me close.
My whole life she always told me that. That I had his eyes, his smile. But the only thing I could think of was that his meant my dad. But yet there was always that part of my in the back of my mind that my dad was not who she was talking about. But did I ever ask...no. For I was scared. Scared that it would bring up a memory or a person whom she just wanted to shut out out of her life, but yet couldn’t let go of.
“I am going to go put my things up.” I said softly breaking from the embrace and picking up my laptop, books, and papers, slipping them into my arms and walking up the steps. I listened as my mum called my dad and as she walked out into the garden. My mum worried me so much, like there was something that she was not telling me.
Walking into my room, my drawings and paintings hanging on the walls. Pictures of outer space, of a blue police box, and the shadow of a man on an alien planet covered my walls. Who the man was, I never knew. When I was younger, my mum would tell my stories of this strange man, who he was and his adventures. I would ask her what he looked like, but she would always tell me that his face always changed. That you would never know who he was.
This man had always been in my dreams, and in the back of my mind, I knew that he was real. I would spend days just looking out the window, looking up at the stars. Wanting to meet this spaceman with changing faces.
“I know that you are out there.” I said looking up at the sunset lit sky that hung over London. “I will find you.”
Hearing the front door close, I look up from the toast that I have been nibbling on for the past 20 minutes as I try to study for my exams, but with my luck, my mind is in another world and I can’t get it back. But looking over my shoulder to see my mum walking into the house, her eyes look tired and her hair a mess, I could tell it was not a good day at the boutique that she owned with my grandma.
“Bad day?” I ask as I get up and toss the nibbled toast into the garbage can and turned back to her, leaning on the counter like I can’t see it in her eyes how she is overly stressed out.
“Two people could not make it in, and seeing as it is the weekend before Christmas, the store was flooded.” She said as she tried to calm her voice down, setting her phone onto the counter and grabbing a water form the fridge.
“You could have called me, I would have come to help mum.” I said, again like I always do.
That was one thing about my mum, she never enjoyed asking for help, and when it came to me wanting to help her, she would never let me. It was a tick that I wanted to break her up more than anything.
“No, you have your exams to study for. Anyways, the weekend is over. So, how about I have dad pick us up some Chinese for dinner.” She asked looking over at me with a warm and motherly smile that I fell trapped too every time.
Nodding, I walked over and wrapped my around her, my head on her chest and my eyes closed. Sure, I was 17 years old. But something about being in my mum’s arms, just knowing that she was still there, it made me feel safe, like nothing in the world could ever hurt me. I could feel one of her arms warp around my back before having the other lift my head up so we were eye to eye.
“You have his eyes, Daisy.” She said lightly before kissing my nose and just pulling me close.
My whole life she always told me that. That I had his eyes, his smile. But the only thing I could think of was that his meant my dad. But yet there was always that part of my in the back of my mind that my dad was not who she was talking about. But did I ever ask...no. For I was scared. Scared that it would bring up a memory or a person whom she just wanted to shut out out of her life, but yet couldn’t let go of.
“I am going to go put my things up.” I said softly breaking from the embrace and picking up my laptop, books, and papers, slipping them into my arms and walking up the steps. I listened as my mum called my dad and as she walked out into the garden. My mum worried me so much, like there was something that she was not telling me.
Walking into my room, my drawings and paintings hanging on the walls. Pictures of outer space, of a blue police box, and the shadow of a man on an alien planet covered my walls. Who the man was, I never knew. When I was younger, my mum would tell my stories of this strange man, who he was and his adventures. I would ask her what he looked like, but she would always tell me that his face always changed. That you would never know who he was.
This man had always been in my dreams, and in the back of my mind, I knew that he was real. I would spend days just looking out the window, looking up at the stars. Wanting to meet this spaceman with changing faces.
“I know that you are out there.” I said looking up at the sunset lit sky that hung over London. “I will find you.”
Comment 6 likes
Really...eating disorders are self-inflicted? People with eating disorders choice NOT to eat? Like they can just wake up and go eat. I have never been so furious in my life. Demi Lovato is standing up for someone close to her heart and bringing awareness to a serious topic. I saw those clips and they are terrible! I am just...URRRG!!
One comment Like
18, Psycology Major, College Student.
Potterhead Pride ⚡
Potterhead Pride ⚡
- 205,505 set views
- 19,814 set likes
- 148 collection likes
- 1,421 followers
- One 3rd place
- 8 template usages