Clean

pancakes and shopping

❀ ʚɞ Adeline ʚɞ ❀

April 15, 2005

I couldn't stop crying.
I'd been in bed for the past two days, curled in a ball, sobbing so hard my throat was raw. I'd eaten a whopping two bites of toast thanks to the nausea that had found shelter in my stomach.

I felt like a terrible mess of a human. I loved Gerard. I loved him more than anything—more than the colour pink, more than ballet, more than leg warmers, more than bows. He was all I'd ever wanted, I mean seriously, I spent the better part of six years pining after the lad.

And then when I finally get him to settle down and date me, I break his heart. I was fucked in the head. That was the only explanation for my erratic behaviour.

I mean, I knew why I did it—I wanted to protect him—but still the eleven year old me was furious with myself.

I batted another tear off my face, the pit in my stomach intensifying when I remembered the look on his face and the words he'd said.

You want me to trust you? You're breaking my heart.

I loved you, Addy. I loved you more than anything.

Loved. Past tense, as in he didn't love me anymore. He couldn't love me.

My bedroom door flung open with extreme force and then my blankets were yanked off my body. Teary eyed and confused, I raised my head only to meet the amber eyes of my best friend.

"Enough of the moping," she demanded. "I want you out of bed and showered in fifteen minutes."

"I can't, Grace." I sniffled, pulling my knees closer to my chest. "My heart hurts."

"I know it does, and I'm so sorry, babe." She nodded sympathetically. "But if I'm being honest—and I mean this in the nicest way—you stink. I mean, when was the last time you showered? And my god you look like death, I think you could use some time at the mall, and most definitely a shower."

I blinked at her, my face a mixture of shock and embarrassment because she was right. I hadn't showered in a few days and I most definitely did look terrible.

"Grace, I don't—"

"Nope. There's no getting out of this, Adeline." She crossed her arms, "you are going to shower and get dressed, into real clothes. No sweatpants or pyjamas, you must be in jeans or a skirt. I will see you downstairs in fifteen minutes. No excuses."

"But I—"

"No. Excuses."

Releasing a groan, I dragged myself out of bed and walked to the bathroom. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and cringed. I did look terrible. My hair was greasy and matted, my face was pale but had patches of red splotches on it from crying. My brown eyes were red and puffy and my nose was running like crazy.

A mess was an understatement.

Maybe I did need this.

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I was showered and dressed in jeans and a baby pink t-shirt fifteen minutes later. I headed straight downstairs as instructed, because I did not want to be on Grace's bad side—it was a scary place to be.