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🥘 four. let it be .⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊
When her mother died, Odessa Sinclair didn't know how to feel.
Was she relieved? Was she angry? Was she sad?
That day stuck out like a rusty nail, difficult for her to even write down with a pencil, and Odessa would have to take five minutes to compose herself from it all. The loud flatline in her ear rung so loud that her ears began bleeding and people weren't crying. They just gave her their condolences and their solemn looks. After her mother died, her life was smudged to a blur as if someone had brushed their thumb against it. It went so fast that she needed to hold onto something and pray for the best.
One day, she would be sobbing her eyes out after a tiny little thing, but the next day she'd have an asthma or a panic attack.
All of this, after every school she paved through, Odessa still felt so weak and she blamed her mother for it — a first since Odessa rarely blamed anyone since she was so forgiving, but she was telling the truth. Her mother truly fucked her over because after the funeral, her father went into a comatose state and everything just went wrong. Mikey died, her anxiety got worse, her fear of hospitals grew.
Her life felt like it was vines growing and growing until it was out of her control and she couldn't cut it down anymore.
Odessa just had to let it be.
She had to bottle up her feelings and forget about it all because, as she liked to remind herself, the world wasn't going to stop for some tiny speck in the universe like her.
No, the earth kept spinning, the sun kept shining, and the stars kept twinkling.
In exchange for that, Odessa kept panicking and she kept going even though she didn't want to.
Even now, as she stared at the family picture they took when she was eight, Odessa knew that she was entirely fucked then because her mother started drinking and crying. Over what? She forgot because she still forgave her even though the abuse never, ever stopped. Even in death.
Her fingertip gently traced her mother's silhouette, her black polished nail scratching against the glass of her pouchy face. Odessa wanted to cry, but not now. She needed to suck it up and go to work like always.
Odessa was quiet on the bus ride to the pharmacy, her hands clutching at her inhaler and she looked down to examine it. Fak and Richie had taken the opportunity to decorate it which meant a lot of sharpie drawn dicks. The brunette licked at the pad of her thumb and she desperately scrubbed it off before anyone else could see. God, her coworkers were embarrassing with their loud shouting and screaming, but it was normal. Her eardrums would bleed because of it.
