Creative Writing Pieces

Hurt

I take a look at myself in the shattered mirror and frown. My burgundy hair is in a matted fritz and my once shimmering blue eyes are now a dark indigo with red swimming around in the whites.

Look at what he's done to you, I think to myself. This isn't you.

I slowly make my way over to my messily made bed and disappear under the black comforter. I check my phone: no new messages.

I sigh to myself and tuck my head under the dark.

Look at how pathetic you're being. He doesn't care about you, so stop worrying about him.

I know I'm being a little ridiculous, I argue with myself. But what do you expect coming from me?

I decide to call him. How bad could it hurt?

"Hello, you've reached-"

I hang it up when I get his answering machine. I knew I shouldn't have called him.

My chipped black nail polish is just a reminder of the past. I haven't repainted my nails since that day, and I don't want to. It's all I have left of that memory. It may be tearing me apart inside, but I don't mind the pain. I'm becoming numb to it.

"Ellie," my mother peers into my room. She tells me with caution in her voice, "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry," I croak out from under my blanket haven.

"Dear, I know it hurts, but you have to eat."

I remove the covers from my head and gaze at her. Her eyes widen at my appearance. I'm sure I look absolutely wretched.

She clears her throat and her eyes shrink back to normal size. "Honey," she sits on the corner of my twin-sized bed, "You're in pain."

"That's an understatement," I say and brush a knotty lock of hair back from my face.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"I couldn't possibly want to do anything less."

She gives me a slow nod and stands up. "When you're ready to leave your room, I'll be waiting."

"Thanks, mom."

She shuts my door and I'm alone once again.

Could my life suck any more?

I shake my head.

Not possible.

I glance over at the framed picture on my shelf. We look so happy. He and I are smiling, his dimples are showing, his brown puppy dog eyes are as happy as ever, my blue orbs are shining with contentment – if only that could have lasted.

I've been in my room for so long the light outside is starting to change. I pull open my blinds and stare at the sunset. I have a perfect view of it from my room. I remember when he and I used to go to the top of a hill and watch the sun disappear over the horizon. The colors would be so beautiful; an explosion of reds and purples decorated the sky. Of course that was weeks before things between us abruptly ended.

I was in denial for the longest time; I still am, but not nearly as much as I was before. I didn't want to believe it – I couldn't. However, that was until I was standing there on that fretful day, the black umbrella shielding my body from the pouring rain, as I watched the only person I have ever loved disappear from my life forever. I cried. I cried as hard as the rain was falling down. I didn't stop crying until I couldn't see him anymore.

"Ellie," my mother had said, trying to distract me. "He didn't leave you on purpose."

"I know," I managed to reply as I stared down at my black clothing. "It just hurts, mom."

I didn't leave the cemetery until I was dehydrated from all the fallen tears. And even when I did leave, all I thought about on the drive home was him and how in love we were, how in love we still are, and how in love we'll be for the endless years to come.

And even when I'm old and gray, I'll continue to ask myself why he had to pull out into that goddamned intersection.