Sweet little ducks...
Sit down
6k reads and I have no words! THANK YOU!!! I HOPE YOU ALWAYS FIND YOUR MISSING SOCK.
Triggers:
- Dustbin
- Slight violence
- Homophobic comments
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The moon turned to ash
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Anna
You weren't ever giving up and I sure wasn't mad 'bout that.
Poetic Justice.
My mind is reeling from what I'm about to do as I sit in the middle of my bedroom floor, red paint splatters on my hands and the tiles in front of me, looking at myself through my floor-length mirror, the one word glowing on my shirt.
The vulnerability, the exposing position I'll be in, all eyes on me. Something I've been shying away from for the better part of a year, but how can I not want some form of retribution? What will it make me if I don't go out and start the flames I promised? I'm a fighter, been that way since I can remember, my battles chosen discreetly and executed precisely; this is no different. I won't just be standing up for myself; I'll be standing up for a whole generation; dramatic as it might seem, it doesn't make it less true.
I take a big breath, satisfied with my creation. There's a knock on the door, slightly ajar, unable to close after Harry broke it yesterday. "Come in," I say while standing, my eyes still locked with my reflection, a shiver running down my spine, the muscles in my jaw tightening from nausea. All a telltale of nervousness.
"Hello there, Anna Rose." My greeting, in the form of being swept up into Harry's arms, wrapped into his warmth, calming my beating heart. What a saint he's been since yesterday.
Harry's been running around town the whole day, gathering supplies, the gang by his side as they got rid of all the flyers, cleaning the town in an afternoon's time, for me. He leans back, palm on my cheek, tilting my head for a soft kiss, his smile wide enough to show his bottom teeth. "Hi, English."
"How are you feeling?" A catch twenty-two, powerful, scared shitless but satisfied and ready. His eyes move over my shoulder, the smile now a hidden smirk, so beautiful to look at.
"I'm feeling okay, I'm nervous, but I guess that's normal." He's surprised that I offer information about my feelings towards him; he doesn't have enough time to hide the shock.
He moves us to the bed, sitting side by side, thighs touching, our hands in his lap. "Do you want my opinion?" He asks, looking sideways at my profile, analyzing how I actually feel.
It's too late for me to back out by now, everything is set, and I know the disappointment of not doing it would be a lot more than going through with the plan. "No, I have my own, thank you."
He shuffles out of his thin sports jacket, making me wonder why he had it in the first place until I see what he's wearing underneath. My heart jumps to my throat, my world standing still for a second. A white shirt, like mine, red paint, sloppy handwriting, bold and unavoidable. Unlabeled I blink my tears away, knowing how hard it must be for Harry to expose himself like this, to go to a carnival where all the townspeople will be, a town filled with people who still cling to the values set in the eighties. People will gawk at him, judge him, but he doesn't care; he cares about me more.
"You." I look down, unable to speak, my eyes catching his light blue nails is the last thing I see before my eyes close, and I struggle to keep the tears away. "You'd do that for me?" I don't know if he hears me; my words are muffled by my hand, spoken through wavering lips. "Look at me, Anna Rose."
YOU ARE READING
The Book Of Anna & English
Novela JuvenilA coming of age story about a boy who makes music and a girl who lost her sound. What would you do with a million words?
