Kessie's Short Stories

Marcella

The rain had started half an hour ago. Marcella's legs hurt and watching the rain trail down the car windows made her wish she were back home.

Marcella made a lazy glance at the driver's side. A scowl etched her lips as she watched her aunt drive. Aunt Danielle kept shifting her eyes from the road, to the rearview mirror, at her dashboard, and back over again as they traveled the otherwise deserted highway. Instead of playing music like every other driver Marcella's known, Aunt Danielle listened to podcasts, apparently. Not even interesting ones like murder mysteries or rougelike inspired stories. No. Aunt Danielle listened to political podcasts where they talked about nothing but school shootings, bad senate bills, and how stupid the current president was.

And so, Marcella reclined back in her spot and tried not to think about how her phone was in the back, safely tucked beside her MP3 player and portable console, in her traveling backpack. So far from her that she couldn't even spider-monkey back there to get them, and allowing herself to be distracted from the continual damnation that was their country's issues. They were still closer than home, though. At least she had that as a dull comfort.

"You missed the exit." Marcella thinly noted as said exit went whipping by. A few days ago, the comment would have been made with a lot more mirth -a lot more biting sarcasm- but now it was exhausted. Pure, and utter exhaustion.

"Huh?" Aunt Danielle said in time with the GPS declaring, "Rerouting."

Marcella sighed; although it came out more as a whine. This car ride was going to take even longer now. Not that she hadn't already known that would be the case. Aunt Danielle was a spaz. A dumb blonde right down to her roots. If it wasn't for Marcella sitting in the back, she wondered if Aunt Danielle would even stop for gas.

'I don't even like her,' Marcella bitterly thought to herself. 'She didn't even visit us before last year.'

Before Dad got sick.

Before Dad could barely get out of bed.

Before Dad...

'Nope,' Marcella decided with a quick shake of her head. 'Not going to think about that now. Not even going to dare to start around Aunt Danielle either. Nope. Nope, nope, nope.'

Despite the amount of nopes she forced herself to think, she still wanted to cry. She only cried when she was alone now. Every time she didn't, Marcella got praised for being strong. But she wasn't strong. She was crumbling inside. Couldn't anyone tell? Marcella was dying inside and she got praised for it. She hated a lot more now too. The people who called her strong, the doctors who said Dad was alright when he wasn't. Even Aunt Danielle and her podcasts of doom weren't safe from the fury of someone trapped in a car for hours on end, traveling with a spaz who had their attention divided on so many other pointless things that they had missed the exit three times already. One of these days, Marcella was going to snap.

But she couldn't.

Not in front of Aunt Danielle.

Not in front of the people who called her strong.

Not in front of anyone.

Because Marcella wasn't strong, she was dying. But no one saw that. They just see Marcella, someone who lost their dad and now has to move to be with someone who could take care of her. Someone who must have been a family member, but not any that she knew of. The Marcella everyone expected to see had died the same time Dad did. But that Marcella was gone. The Marcella in the car today was a new person- a broken kind of new like something you'd find in a thrift store. She had no life left to give. And she wanted, so very badly, for her traveling backpack to be next to her so she could listen to music and turn off her thoughts entirely.

Dad was gone, and so was Marcella. So who would exist in her place now?