Soul Searching

IV

Listen to: Shy by Chainsmokers

Image: Soul inking of main individual (Her)

~

My inking is a tree. No. Not a slender, limp tree that sways in the breeze. A large, thick trunk, with grasping branches and long reaching roots. A figure sits at the bottom of the tree, reclining. My tree is strong, tall and proud, unflappable in strong winds. No, it changes the course of the wind.

It's the opposite of me. Slim, bullied, pale. I'm easily pushed over. And I find it hard to get up, but if I'm meeting my soul mate one day, I'm going to be strong. I, Shyanne will be known as a strong girl.

~

I sit, huddled under the umbrella, it's cold out there, and the weather is harsh, the cold seeping through my thin shirt and it's cold clammy fingers making my bones freeze. I just got home from my work shift at the daycare centre, and I barely make it through the glares that some mothers give me.

I can't blame them, seeing as my slight frame does not fit the matronly image of a ' proper' caretaker. I hug my bag tight to my body, preserving the little heat I have left.

The car tyres screech as they come dangerously close to me,delivering a crushing blow to me. I collapse on the floor, pain erupting like fire works everywhere, the hot, excruciating pain slicing through me like a knife. Ouch. I feel a soft tingle coming from my back as I lie on the concrete floor, with no one to turn to and no one to look for. Alone

Soft hands caress my face wildly, pumping my chest, trying to make me breathe properly. Nothing's working. A girl's voice, lilting and melodious, breaks through the pain filled haze. "What's happening? Who are you? Oh my god!" I smile weakly at her beautiful face, my wispy hair flowing in the icy breeze.

I've been hit by a car, and my soul mate just saw me collapse, I think, before a crushing pain sufaces on me again, and I gasp like a fish on land, struggling for my collapsed lungs to breathe, but only the sticky crimson blood flies out, staining my old clothes.

The voice starts to rant, and I smile softly as I feel my life  draining out of me, drop by drop.

Strong. I have to be strong. I fight off the encroaching blackness, struggle to see her worried but pretty face, leaning over me, talking on the phone feverishly. "Hello? Paramedics! Come and help! I'm on Elm drive! There's not much time left..." her words swim around my head.

I repeat the words "I have to be strong in my head". I have to grow up with her. I can't die, not now.

I reach for her and she grasps it, tight. "Who...are.. y-you?" I manage to croak out. She smiles sadly, "Diana." I smile, I can't fight the blackness, pulling me in. "Shy- Shyanne." I whisper in a broken voice, before I drown in the pain and blackness  and emotion.

Strong. I have to be strong.

DIANA

I cry, heartwrenching, sobbing tears, as the love of my life, who I met, dying on the street is lying, eyes lifeless like, smile on her face. The blare of the sirens are muted, as the sadness crash and envelope me.

I move out of the way as they lift her up, my inking cutting through me like a sharp knife, my head spinning.

They motion urgently for me to go with them and I sit opposite her, caressing her platinum sliky strands of hair, willing her to be okay.

Strong. I have to be strong.