If This Was A Movie

1. openers

August 20th, 2023- Present day

THE heart monitor sounded its occasional ten second beep. It's boring protruding scream just about made everything alright. As best as it could in the situation.

A paper beige painted the walls while the luminescent glow of the dimmed lights coated them in a harsh dust. Deflated balloons, hundreds of cards and stuffed bears aligned the empty space beside the bed.

The receptive gown adorned her body, its length enveloped her frame to present smaller than it was. A small drip IV bag hung from the metal pole stationed several feet from the head of the bed.

The liquid paced out slowly, while slowly fluidly through the small translucent tube which appeared as if nothing was coming out. The needle pressed firmly into the only viable vein in her right hand.

Her left was held tightly in the grasp by the girl who sat weeping unapologetically at her side. Bags took their rightful place under her blue eyes, tapering their once starry glow.

She no longer tried to hide her despair, the facade has been going on for too long now. It was as if the dam had finally broke and her tears let loose. She wanted so badly to reach up, with her featherlight touch and gently caress the scars that rid her face.

The black eye that circled under her right eye so welded her tear ducts were assumed to be damaged temporary. At least until it healed.

Scars, the ones she had remembered from back in the day, the other girl could picture her confiding in Taylor to trust with her darkest secret.

She wasn't sure how she ended up in this situation, not that she could tell you.

But I will.

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March 12th, 2022:

She really had no artistically talented bone in her body, or that's what she believed. But she did have that guitar. The Martin D-X1E Dreadnought acoustic. A hand me down stained mahogany that played nothing shy of fine.

The strings had been changed so many times, she had lost count. An old tuner lined the tip of the neck beside the first fret. James stuck her tongue out a bit as she attempted to focus on the pitch as she turned the polished knobs.

A few moments later she reveled in the sweet melody while her Chuck Taylors tapped the wooden floor to the improved chain of chords. Her fingers picked at the lower strings as she hummed a moment.

There she stood interlinking some random form that she knew would remain in her collection forever. At twenty-nine years old, James had given up most of the major things in her life.

She recently moved to the big city, New York. The encrusted filth that lined the sidewalks happily greater her as she entered the not so dazzling Times Square.

The young woman was from upstate Maine where she basked in the mountain air and the welcomeness of the changing leaves. Unfortunately, she had to say goodbye to it so soon.

Her father, David, had passed away unexpectedly one night. He was all she had left after the divorce between him and her mother quickly after her thirteenth birthday. She was left the dated house perched on a hill and a few acres of land.