Call Me Six

51: 'Slut' -Tobias

TOBIAS-

She deteriorated.

Not caring about a thing in the world.

She became a corpse.

~

It's been three months since that night. Three months since she broke into my house, distraught.

In some ways, her plan had worked. In others, it hadn't.

The girl hanging upside-down on the monkey bars was unrecognisable. The light was drained from her face, the sparkle in her eyes had dimmed.

She earned her title of slut. And everyone called her it.

The sneers and glares that were shot her way in the halls were impossible to miss.

She didn't stop. Tris did the opposite. The drunken facades turned into sober flings, each one ending with her returning; drinking; getting high. And all I could do was sit and hold her as she stared off into space, uttering rambles about the sweet irony of ambition.

She'd given up on everything. Living in the moment without a care for consequences.

A swollen abdomen. A two-month-old foetus growing inside the lost girl.

Blonde hair swayed in the wind. Her arms dangled loosely by her head.

She went from straight As to Fs in all subjects at school. Sleeping through lessons or just not bothering to attend at all.

It's like she felt she had to live up to her title of Slut.

Caleb kicked her out, said he was done with her childish ways when he found out about the child. He abandoned her wen she needed him most. He abandoned his sister.

Tris was staying at mine, again. It wasn't the same though. We barely spoke, she was hardly ever in and when she was, she was numb to everything.

Every night, no matter if she was sober or not, she'd turn to me and say, "Don't give up on me... Please."

And without fail, I'd take her in my arms and reply, "Never."

Those six words were her own, the one time she'd remind me of the real Tris. They weren't sad, helpless, angry or woeful - they held hope; that small light that shone in the dark and reminded her of who she is.

She's still hanging. Just swinging in the breeze.

The wind carries the joyful cries of children as they race through the park. Their mother eyes us warily before ushering the children back to herself. Her eyes flick between Tris and where she hangs, to me, where I'm sat on the grass, and the young girl and boy's faces.

The children are playing once more, running around without a care in the world.

"Excuse me, Miss," the girl says a she walks up to the hanging Tris.

"Adelaide!" The woman shrieks and starts hurriedly marching over to the child. "I told you to stay away from these people."

"But I wanna-"

"I don't care. We're going home." She snaps harshly and Tris drops down landing neatly in front of the pair.

"Ma'm," she says offering a smile, "I believe your daughter just wanted to go on the monkey bars. I'll leave you to it, have a nice day."