𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

27. what's left (pt.3.)

T W E N T Y - S E V E N
what's left?

TW: very brief mention of sexual assault, if you are someone that can't read about that please skip this chapter. Love ya <3

But those reading, comment your thoughts because I'm dying to know whose side you're on. The next chapter is back to being based on the show, this is the last part of 27 :)

Warning, this shit is long.

Staring up at the ceiling I've come to realise I may know better than the back of my hand, the heaviness I've been trying so hard to outrun begins catching up with me again.

It's a feeling I've despised since my Grandma died when I was seven, it's not the hurt that destroys me, it's the feeling of not being able to take a full breath without your chest shaking, looking and seeing so much is tainted with grief, being angry that they died; leaving me behind like so many people do.

Which may be why I now insist on leaving first. It's why I turn down every opportunity thrown my way, I don't want new friends, I don't want to get to know people, I don't want to go out on a limb, I don't want to extend olive branches and have all my efforts, all my risks thrown back in my face. I don't want to be kicked down on the ground because I don't think I'll be able to get back up. I don't know if I have the energy, I don't know if I have the willpower to just lift my chin up and be the bigger person – I'm not the bigger person, I'm guarded, hurt and petty. I'm snarky and sarcastic and, quite possibly, never going to be able to trust anyone I met after the age of ten.

When I was ten I was fearless, smacking people twice my size with metal water bottles because they said something mean about someone else. Flipping people off who pushed someone down, muttering offensive comments at teachers who dared tell me off for being chatty when all I wanted to do was make friends – something I wasn't all that great at. I talked about Egyptian mummification too much for a ten-year-old.

But that little girl was slowly broken down, the confidence she had was laced with kindness and rose-tinted glasses that convinced her the world was good, and people were kind.

Now she's me. Someone she'd be ashamed to be. Probably someone she'd hit with a water bottle, flip off and curse at – all at once.

With a light sheen of sweat, my heart thumping in my head and my breathing finally regulating, I convince myself to sit up. Facing the window where the sun begins painting the sky with gorgeous, warm colours I stare for a few seconds. Taking in the view, the thought that no sunset is the same sits at the back of my head when I watch it set. I don't know why the little fact makes me want to remember every sunset, but it does. No pictures ever convey the true beauty, so I try and remember them for as long as I can. They're special, beautiful and so very simple. Not much is that combination of things.

I feel JJ touch my back, "You okay?" He asks.

For a few more seconds I let myself watch the ever-changing sky.

"Yeah," I whisper.

I reach down and grab my clothes, putting them all back on, one by one. Not daring to look at JJ, I don't want to deal with the fallout I know is coming. I thought I was past this, the feeling that always takes up space in my crowded head that all I do is make mistakes. All I do is hurt people; bring the worst out of people.

"Where are you going?" The question fills the room that's quickly getting tense. I hear him stand up, I can see him getting a pair of shorts on as I collect my things.

"Where is my phone?" I mumble, looking around, getting increasingly frantic as the need to leave gets more and more apparent. I can't stay here. I see the cracked screen lost in the clutter sprawled on top of the chest of drawers. In my haste, I hit a can of beer with the butts of blunts shoved inside. It hits the ground and a string of curse words fall from my mouth.