CECILY

PAIN

Missing someone was a lot harder when they weren't dead. 

Death had a finality to it that I appreciated.  

You miss someone you love when they die, but deep down, you understand that there's nothing that can be done again to see them. And eventually, with time, you forget. That pain of loss you felt, eases and you return to normal. Living every day without the burden of uncertainty swimming around inside your head. 

When someone's dead, you blame yourself and ask for answers. You tell yourself you could've done more to change things and make excuses for the things you didn't. 

But when someone leaves, when someone you love walks away and never looks back, your soul shatters. 

The world keeps spinning, but every day is empty.

**

It was barely after 3 pm on a Thursday. And for the first time since I was in elementary school, I was at home at this time on a school day. 

"Cecily, honey, you're home early today." My mother called as she spotted me coming in from the kitchen window.  

I tried to smile at her, but it'd been an exceptionally rough day, and all I could muster was a lifted eyebrow. "No practice," I said. It was a preemptive attempt to avoid conversation on the topic. Not that it was true, practice was raging on; I just didn't feel like raging with it.

Truth be told, my Mom and I weren't close, not anymore, but she somehow noticed the changes in me before I did. She started questioning why my hair wasn't done, why I was wearing flats or sneakers instead of my stilettos—catching on to the fact that I'd forgone most of the parties in the last few weeks and slept in on the weekends. 

I commended her for that.

I always thought that she didn't pay attention to me. Too wrapped up in her things since I wasn't her carbon copy; A good girl who stood out just enough to not make waves, someone like Kathy Dickens, that blonde idiot. Still, even she had something that I was desperately trying to find, love.

Danny may have been stepping out on her, but he and Kathy were joined at the hip at the end of the day. Moved together, grew together, stayed together. I hated them for it. 

Still, anything was better than what I had with Kyle. He'd been gone almost two months and not once had he called. I mean, not even a text, a skype call, an email? I missed him. Clearly, more than he missed me, and it was getting me to a breaking point I didn't know I had.

I pulled my keys out to unlock the door, but it flew open in front of me. My mother stood, one hand on her hip and the other on the door, her brows closely pulled into a scowl, "We need to talk."

I hadn't heard those words since I'd snuck my first boy in, and that was almost three years ago. My typical attitude said to protest. That I should, as Kyle put it, 'Rage against the machine,' but the only thing I could do was agree. I did need to talk, not necessarily to her, but to someone, anyone. And if confiding in my mother meant that I could release some of this pain, then I would do that. 

She gave me time to get changed, finding me about 10 minutes later with a cup of sweet milk tea and a box of tissues in hand. I could smell the fragrance from the cup, but the steam meant it was too hot to drink now anyway. She gently closed the door behind her, set the cup on my desk, and then handed me the tissues.

However, I'd beat her to the tissue game. There were three boxes near my bed, just waiting for another bad night. 

"You miss him?" she asked, sitting in my pink plush-covered desk chair. 

She had never pried before. Never dug around for information in a roundabout way or even asked me as directly as she did today, but acknowledging the response that she and I both knew I was going to give was painful. 

I laughed gently, "I'm not supposed to." 

From under deep furrowed brows, my mother glared at me, studying me as if she hoped to find an answer to what I was thinking. "Cecily, what's going on with you? We're not that close, but you can talk to me; I'm your Mom."

But that wasn't true. I couldn't talk to her. Just because she was my mother, that didn't mean that she'd understand what I was doing. She certainly would disagree, and even if I didn't need nor seek her approval, I didn't want her scrutinizing me with every look. 

"Kyle hasn't reached out since he left," I said, trying my best not to give away the fact that his actions, or lack thereof, had left me crippled and searching for reason and purpose in my daily life.

She folded her lips in, pain warping her features quickly before she took a deep breath. "CC, honey, it's okay to miss him even if he doesn't feel the same way. You can embrace your emotions and share what you feel. Just don't put on some plastic mask. You don't need a facade to help you feel better."

I scoffed, not at her but her lack of know-how. "But I do. I need my facade because I'm the Queen! Not that you would understand what that means, Mom, but everyone looks up to me. People expect me to be the best. To be in control and untouchable and perfect, especially now that Kyle's gone. " 

I bit into my bottom lip, finding the taste of metal tingling at the tip of my tongue.

This was wrong. No matter how much I needed to talk, my mother was not that person. She was far removed, simple and thoughtless. She was the kind of person that said to wear your emotions on your sleeves. 

Well, I didn't have sleeves. 

"You're being mean, Cecily. Just because we have led different paths in high school doesn't mean I don't understand what you're going through. You can open up more. No one will make you feel less than for sharing how you feel."

She tried to be comforting, but all I could feel was contempt. 

"You don't understand." I stood, walking over to my door and pulling it open. "Thanks for the milk tea and the concern, but let's not do this again."

My mother stood, disappointment etched across her forehead, and walked out the door. 

My eyes met the mirror. They were dark, my makeup was fading, my hair looked dead, and I didn't look like the Cecily I loved. I didn't look anything like the Cecily that people adored and feared in equal parts. 

Thankfully, I knew who I was! And it wasn't the shell that was looking back at me. I was decisive and commanding, and I had teenage boys cowering at my feet for a chance with me. I needed to remember that. 

PART TWO of my look into Cecily. I hope it's coming off the way I want it to. There are two more parts to go. Please enjoy, and if you like this, please remember to read Right In Front Of You by Wimbug