Alone

⚠️
This book contains suicidal thoughts, self-harm, low self-esteem, and sexual references. Your discretion is advised.

Please vote and comment if you like the story.

꧁༺༒༻꧂

My grandmother once told me: "Enola, you only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."

That short quote guided me for most of the years in my life, alongside another which says: "You will truly never be good enough for anyone if you are not good enough for yourself first."

With those two quotes in mind, I tried to be the best I could be. Straight A's, helping others, learning how to bake, taking care of animals; I made sure to do the things I loved, excelling at them.

My grandmother, Wren knew me, more than I know myself. She guided me. She was my role model. The only thing that could be closer to me than she would be my pillow.

She knew about my self-depreciation, my past, and sometimes even told me my future. She understood me, tried to encourage me with her quotes, and made me laugh with her hilarious stories.

I loved her and she loved me, at least I think she did. These days, I think she talked to me because she pitied me.

During my early teenage years, my self-depreciation began and my insecurities rose like the sun on a summer morning.

It bothered me how ordinary I looked and dressed. I was scared of what people would think of me, my intelligence, and my social awkwardness. I was worried I wasn't as charismatic as my little brother or as pretty as my older sister.

I was scared my parents didn't want me to pursue my goal to become a  veterinarian, but instead, they want me to dream bigger like my sister who wants to be a model, or my brother who has a strong interest in politics.

Unfortunately, Grandma Wren died, the time I needed her the most. I was there that day when she laid on her death bed. I remember the smile that was plastered on her wrinkled face as she said one last quote, a simple one that she had told me multiple times before. She said: "Do not give the past the power to define your future."

Though she had said that to me before, it then mattered the most because it was the last one she would ever tell me.

I understood why she chose that particular quote though. She was worried about me, worried about how I still thought about my past ordeal.

It happened when I was seven. My parents had dropped off my sister and me at my uncle's house. We were going to be there for a while.

My uncle had a friend that often came over. I remember him; I don't think I can ever forget him. Everything about him is engraved into the deepest and darkest part of my mind. His messy hair, dark eyes, lean figure, strong legs, and pink, slightly plump lips. His name was Kye.

Being the middle child at the time, I didn't get much attention. My parents were more focused on improving my sister's poor grades and taking care of my baby brother. I felt neglected most of the time.

Kye, on the other hand, gave me the most attention. He always listened to my long, unnecessary rambles and watched my cartoons with me. I felt safe with him and thought I had made a unique friend, not caring about the age difference.

It all changed the day I was left alone with him. That day, he kissed me. I was only seven so I didn't read much into it. I didn't know what a kiss meant but I know it was my first one. I had watched a few movies where people had locked lips but I didn't know what it meant. I thought it was just a sign of friendship so I let him. I let him kiss me and touch me where he shouldn't have.