Wilted Flower

Emptiness

#This genre is a dark romance to all my readers.

Feelings...

Feeling something is knowing you're alive. Feelings are what you cling to for hope or comfort when times are tough. The heart is what makes you feel the most. What does the heart do? It beats, keeps the blood flowing, and keeps us alive. But that's not all it does, is it? You might think the heart holds love, and indeed, there's more to it than just keeping us alive.

Love...

I suppose you expected a glimpse of a love story to start off my tale. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not here to provide what you're used to. This isn't another sob story designed to make you feel sorry for me. If my tone bores you or if you were searching for a love story, you can stop reading now. There's none of that here.

That said, let me continue. Are you confused? My story began the moment you clicked on "feelings." Let me rephrase: I should start by explaining why I'm here. I'm known for being shy and quiet, a ghost in some people's presence. I simply like keeping to myself. Some think I'm seeking attention, but I've been hurt so many times, so young. Now, it's all become too much. I've felt empty for years.

Empty...

Empty is what I'm familiar with. Now I can begin the story you've been waiting for, but remember, I'll always come back to remind you that I'm still here, the one telling the story.

Thunder/rain

I woke to the sound of a storm. Normally, I find the storm soothing, but tonight it was different. The rumbling outside jarred me from a nightmare. I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind was wide awake.

When I finally opened my eyes, it was morning. It was as if I had blinked and the day had changed. I got out of bed, convincing myself I was ready to start the day.

(Sighing)

"Another shitty day," I muttered. Getting out of bed and going through the same old routine had become a monotonous merry-go-round. I got into the car where my dad was waiting.

"Okay, are you ready to go? Do you have everything?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I replied, trying to suppress a shrug.

The car started moving as we headed to the bus stop. I wondered why my life had turned out this way. Why couldn't I have a life like the Kardashians or Jason Derulo? Though, if I were living like them, I might end up just as miserable.

"Maya, the bus is here!" my dad called out.

"Oh, sorry, Dad," I said, jolted from my thoughts.

I boarded the bus and put on my headphones, closing my eyes to calm my mind. When the bus arrived at school, the sight of the building made me want to gouge my eyes out. I walked inside and began my day. The morning classes were uneventful.

In the halls, I heard classmates talking about their plans, boy problems, lunch spots, and all kinds of gossip and drama. I envied their ability to have friends they trusted, who listened when times were hard.

On the flip side, I thought about how exhausting it must be to deal with others' problems when you have your own. I preferred not to have friends at all rather than struggle with trust issues. I'd built walls to protect myself, trading happiness for security. Right?

My afternoon classes were rough. One teacher gave me a particularly hard time, which was nothing new. Dealing with difficult teachers made it harder to trust authority figures.

"I can't open what you want. You should have known the due date," the teacher said.

"Yes, but I missed it by accident. I'm just asking for this one thing," I pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Maya," the teacher said dismissively.

As I left the classroom, I felt a surge of anger. I wanted to go back and confront the teacher, but what difference would it make? On my way home, I noticed something was off—my dad wasn't home. He usually greeted me at this hour.

I stood in the dining room, wondering where he could be. I walked to the stairs and paused. At the top, I saw a figure. It was a tall man in a black coat and brown boots, but his appearance struck me as oddly out of place. His outfit looked expensive, but I couldn't clearly see his face. All the lights were out in the house, though it was still light outside.

I initially thought it might be my dad, but this man was taller. I knew better than to call out to a stranger in my own home. I headed toward the front door, but before I could reach it, everything went black.

To be continued...