Lost in Hollywood

Marie Antoinette

Enough.

It was time for a change.

Enough with the tears, Sky thought, looking at her red-rimmed eyes in the mirror in the morning, brushing her teeth. She had shed enough tears. She could do this no more.

Enough with the sleepless nights. Her face was always so pale, with permanent shadows under her eyes. How sad was it, that she had almost gotten used to the exhaustion, the tiredness, the lack of sleep, the nightmares—

Enough with the nightmares. Enough already. Enough with Cody's whispered words in her dreams: Don't be sad, it's not your fault, his teary eyes, his head falling to pieces. Hot, sticky blood coating her hands.

Enough.

Sky spat into the sink and rinsed it quickly, trying not to look at the streaks of red that stained the white foam. Blood made her squeamish these days. It only took a couple of drops to make her head light. Changing her pad during her period had become almost unbearable; the smell of blood - copper and iron and salt - always made her nauseous, her thoughts turned into a hazy mess of misery. She was always just one heartbeat away from a flashback or a panic attack, or both.

Enough.

She turned off the tap, left the bathroom without looking at the mirror again, chose her clothes carefully as if putting on an armour. Enough with people pitying her, enough with their looks, their hushed conversations, their thoughts she could almost hear inside of her skull. That's the girl who got her boyfriend killed. That's the slut who sold ass in the janitor's closet. That's the bitch who lied about Kyler and got him arrested.

An armour. A pink, pleated skirt, a cute white, cropped hoodie, knee-high socks, pink sneakers. So much concealer that no one could see the shadows under her eyes, enough blush to make her look like Marie Antoinette. Makeup could turn her into someone else, into someone who looked like she had her shit together, and no one had to know that inside, she was still crumbling to pieces.

Maybe, she thought, adding another layer of glittery lip gloss, with a slightly trembling hand, maybe, if others believe it, one day I will believe it too.

Because enough was enough, and she had swum in the ocean of sorrow for longer than anyone should. There had to be an end to it. Somehow. Somewhere. She would have to find it. And if she didn't, she could just as well throw herself under a bus, because she could not live like this for the rest of her life - the loss of Kat, of Luke, of Cody - dragging her down like an invisible weight chained around her neck.

There had to be an end to it, and she would fucking find it. Or die trying.

As always with grief, some days were harder than others.

Some days, Sky could feel the future gathering in the air around her, could feel the earth moving under her feet. She knew it hadn't stopped on its orbit. She knew that even if her loved ones were gone, she was still here, and she believed it had to mean something, that there was a reason she was still breathing this air that was almost too fresh and too sweet for her lungs. She still had things to live for, things to fight for. Joy. Happiness. Love? Maybe that, too, if she only let herself go for it. The nearing summer made her excited. She wanted to train karate, go to the beach, swim in the ocean, travel, eat gelato at Fontana di Trevi, and do all the fun and carefree things a girl at 17 should be doing. She wanted to get drunk with her friends, she wanted to wear high heels, and dance until sunrise. She wanted to think about nothing at all, her mind blank and empty of any sorrows. Some days she could see it all so clearly - everything she had ever wanted, on a path in front of her, on a path she could so easily take.