𝕷𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 𝕵𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖃 𝕺𝕮

11. Lonely Mind.

THE WEEKEND. 

To some it was the time to rejoice, they had freedom from school and all it's responsibilities to go out and fulfil any teenage desire they had. To some it was the time to study more, fill any gaps in their knowledge that they couldn't fill in the school hours. 

To Trixie Rivers, however, the weekend was isolating. The weekend was when the thoughts weren't pushed away by classes and as much socialising as the social battery would allow. 

Currently, the young girl was in the shower, her music on in attempt to distract her raging mind. Her ivory skin blotchy and red from the scolding water beating down on her skin; the aroma of her body wash filled her senses. Steam filled the bathroom in a dense haze, which ironically, seemed to mimic the current mental haze that Trixie was dealing with.

Wiping away the condensation from the hanging mirror; Trixie was met with her own reflection. The purple smudges around her dull eyes, her pale skin appearing a shade lighter - making anyone who glanced at her think that she was ill; her slightly drooping eyelids and the red tint that surrounded her hazel irises a clear sign that she had in fact, not slept a wink. 

Something she was all too familiar with.

Between school, forming new bonds within the small town, and the other details that went into living as a teenager just trying to get through life - Trixie found herself not particularly processing anything that she was doing. More, going through the motions as it were. 

She had planned to start her life in Forks by treading the waters, making her way slowly, cautiously - at her own pace. But Trixie had done anything but that.  Instead she'd made fast friends, exposed too much of herself too soon, too much to be able to take back. 

Nobody knew everything  but they knew more than enough. Especially Dahlia.

 Visiting the Cullen home a couple times, as well as the time spent together in their shared classes, all happened within such a short time frame that the Rivers girl questioned whether or not this behaviour was normal. 

Closing the door to her room behind her; Trixie dried herself down with the towel that was tightly wrapped around her frame and swiftly changed into some loose fitted leggings and an oversized, baggy t-shirt. Brunette hair was swept into a messy ponytail before Trixie exited her room and shuffled down the stairs towards the kitchen.

The smell of pancakes lingered in the air, but Trixie struggled to muster an appetite for them.

The smell that usually stirred excitement into her, made her stomach swell with nausea. 

The sound of humming invaded her ears, her eyes being forced to focus on her aunt, who had her back to Trixie while she worked swiftly around the stove; flipping out a cooked pancake onto the plate next to her and pouring more uncooked batter into the hot pan.  

Trixie moved towards the fridge, pulling out a carton of juice - the sound of the door shutting alerting Emma of her nieces' presence in the room. The blondes blue eyes watched the brunette carefully, analysing slumped shoulders and pale, almost unwell complexion. 

It was Trixie's goal to keep the thoughts to herself, to keep the façade up long enough so that Emma remained as unbothered as possible. But said façade was cracking and the tears were almost coming free, she could feel the familiar burn at the back and edges of her eyes. But they would have to wait; because now was not a good time, she just had to get through breakfast.

-∆- 

Trixie's fork danced lightly across her plate as she picked at her food. The nausea filled knot in the pit of her stomach and the back of her throat had only worsened during the time it took Emma to make all the pancakes and for Trixie to sit down at her place at the table. 

The young girl was hyper-aware of the occasional glances that her aunt was giving her. 

Chewing on another mouthful, Emma swallowed her breakfast before putting her cutlery down and clearing her throat. 

"Trixie, can we talk for a moment?" Emma's fingers linked together, seeing the tired look on her nieces face, Emma swiftly changed the topic in which she wanted to talk to Trixie about. 

Taking her straightened posture as a sign to continue, Emma took a breath, "I've decided to go back to work, the local hospital isn't far from here and apparently they need the staff, I'm qualified - so I thought, why not?" In reality the older woman needed to get out the house, she needed something to do, so why not do what she loved. Plus they needed the money. 

Trixie put down her fork and took a breath: "Are you sure you want to do this? You didn't want to go back to hospital work for a reason, Emma." Her hands moved steadily as she communicated to the woman opposite. 

A smile stretched onto the blonde's lips, "I'm sure Trix."

"Okay then."

-∆-

 She had done it, she'd made it through breakfast and now she sought out comfort that only music and her room could bring her. 

The melody of the guitar and the feeling of the strings were all that the teenager allowed herself to focus on, concentrating on her finger placement as the lyrics came into her mind, settling at the back of her throat like all the other words. 

But even as she played her mind wondered. 

She thought of everything and nothing at the same time. She processed everything. This was her sanctuary, the four walls surrounding her wouldn't tell a soul about what happened within them. 

A tear slipped from her eye as she thought back to the other night, the feeling of helpless-ness that she experienced returned. Trixie was angry, she was angry at the men who thought it was okay to attack her friends, but mostly, Trixie was angry at herself. Angry at the way she froze, leaving herself to be rescued by someone she should be staying away from. Someone who should be as far away from her emotionally as possible, someone who should be a stranger. 

Trixie focused her anger towards her fingers that danced along the strings. She couldn't cry, because tears fixed nothing.

So she played; allowing the music to fill her room and drift out of her open window. 

Down below, a figure stood. Listening. Feeling. 

He didn't recognise the song being played but he was drawn to it, like he was drawn to her. His brow furrowed as he felt her anger spike and then drift away as she played; the sadness seeped in, hers or his, he couldn't tell. But if it was hers, he wouldn't allow himself to take it away, she needed this, she needed to feel. 

The song came to an end and her curtains closed.

But still, Jasper stayed; he stayed until he could hear the steady beating of her sleeping heart.

A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it..

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This chapter I'm considering as a birthday gift to my friend Calli Xx. Happy Birthday, Love.
Be sure to look at her work! - @CalsRebellion.