ROTBFTD : Broken & Beautiful

16

Jack's pov

The restaurant buzzed with chatter, the scent of garlic and basil hanging thick in the air. My friends were engaged in a lively debate about the best topping for pizza, their voices a comforting hum against the background music. But I barely registered their words, my eyes glued to my phone, a cold dread tightening in my chest. Elsa's message, a morbid confession of pain and despair, had left me reeling. I knew she had been struggling, but I had never imagined it was this bad.

I tried calling her, but all I got was a robotic voice telling me the number I had dialed was unavailable. My heart hammered against my ribs. Something was terribly wrong. I wanted to tell my friends, to ask for their help, but the words wouldn't come. I was frozen, caught in a vortex of fear and helplessness.

Then, I noticed Anna wasn't at the table. My unease intensified. I excused myself, my legs turning to jelly, and rushed to the bathroom. The door was locked. I pounded on it, my panicked voice rising above the restaurant's din.



Finally, the door swung open, revealing Anna, tears streaming down her face, her usual vibrancy replaced with a crushing sadness. She stumbled back, her eyes wide with terror, as if I'd caught her in the midst of something terrible.

I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there, watching her crumble. And then, Hiccup, ever the pragmatist, cleared his throat. 'Hey, could you read that aloud?' he asked, his voice tight.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. As I read her words, my stomach lurched, the truth sinking in like a stone. The restaurant, the bustling crowd, the scent of garlic and basil, all faded into a dull, meaningless backdrop.

"We have to go," Flynn said, his voice hard and resolute. 'There's no time to waste."

We tumbled out of the restaurant, the warmth of the laughter and chatter now a distant memory. My car, usually a source of comfort, seemed choked with the weight of our despair. Each mile we drove towards Elsa's house felt like a slow, agonizing eternity.

When we arrived, I was met with the sight of my mother, her face pale and drawn, looking like she had aged decades in an instant. The look in her eyes, the raw, unfiltered grief, tore at my heart.

As we rushed upstairs to Elsa's room, I felt my knees buckle. The door was ajar, revealing the scene that would forever haunt my dreams. Elsa, her once vibrant spirit now extinguished, lay cold and still, the blood staining the white sheets a stark, gruesome reminder of her pain. The suicide pills, scattered beside her, were a final, silent testament to her struggle.

Kristoff, ever the practical one, took charge, his voice steady as he called 911. I stood there, numb, my mind struggling to comprehend the devastation unfolding before me. The world seemed to have lost its color, replaced by a bleak, monochromatic landscape of grief.

Elsa, with her infectious laughter, her unwavering kindness, her heart that burned brighter than the sun, was gone. And I, her friend, her confidante, her, as she called herself, 'ugly girl,' was left with the crushing weight of her guilt, her sadness, her unbearable pain.

I was haunted by the words she had written: "Jack, I have to break your heart that you will find someone who will make your life easier then with the ugly girl." But Elsa, she wasn't ugly, not at all. She was beautiful, inside and out, and I would forever carry the memory of her spirit, her laughter, her love, in my heart.