I knew it was a game. Damn but a good game it was for as long as it lasted.
"Let me go." I whisper.
He stares at me. His face turning so cold. "Fine." He says letting up on the grip of my arm.
"I'm done playing this game."
...
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Goodbyes aren't simple. Truthfully, they were never made to be simple. I think in this hateful world we made them short because we got lazy of long hugs and meaningful farewells.
Goodbye shouldn't be a simple shout up the stairs or a little text over the phone. It shouldn't be a drowsy bye as you leave their house. It should matter because you never know when the last goodbye is. You'll think nothing of it because there's always another day for another goodbye but sometimes there just isn't.
Sometimes you walk away with an I love you and that has to be enough. It has to be the closure that gets you through the day.
My face is stained with dried tears from crying all last night, the night before and the night before that. My mothers funeral is today. Some may say it's too early but what does it matter? She's dead and there's nothing I can do but put her to rest. After all that is what she wanted.
I sat at the desk in my old bedroom at my parents house. My feet were tucked underneath me and my hand held a sleek black pen between my fingers. I stared at the blank paper before me, completely oblivious to the amount of people that came in and out of the house. I haven't talked to my father since my mothers passing and I've been sleeping with Cassie every night. We talk about old memories while she cries herself to sleep. Then I too, start to feel the weight of death on my shoulders and cry till I wake up with my eyes bloodshot.
I'm supposed to be writing a speech or whatever you call it for my mothers funeral. We decided not to hold a ceremony before her burial. As a family we thought it was best she got the immediate peace she deserved. And when I say family I really just mean me and Cassie.
My pen hits against my teeth as I stare at the paper that is still not filled with inked words. I've been so caught up in being sad that I have put everything aside. The sadness I feel is consuming, it wraps me up in velvet and takes my breath away by its beauty. As a kid who was always shut out by my father and by my friends I learned to fall in love with my tears. Now all I want is for the water marks on my face to stop showing up after my hot salty tears run down my cheeks.
"Anastasia, here's your dress." Aunt Jen sets down my freshly ironed black dress and pauses a moment at my desk. "How's it coming?" Her hand strokes the top of my messy head.
I shrug a shoulder. "I'm just hoping that this page writes itself in two hours." I face plant into my desk. Banging my head onto the wood.
She laughs. "It will come to you naturally. Don't be so hard on yourself kiddo." Her hand leaves my head as she walks towards the door. "Oh— before I forget you have a very handsome man waiting for you downstairs but I see you're busy so I'll send him up to you." She says before she's out the door.
Hmm? I wonder who it is?
The wood flooring outside of my bedroom creaks, making me bring up my head to see what made the noise. A black haired man leans against my door frame, a single arm crossed over his chest as he looks at me. He's dressed in a black turtleneck and black dress pants. "Hey." Mason says in a soft, comforting voice.
