ᵇʳᵘᵗᵃˡ ; ᵐᵃˡ'ˢ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ✓

Dear Diary ➤ Part 44

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Mal sat in her bed, propped up against her headboard. In her hands was the box she kept her mother in. Mal's eyes didn't leave her moving body as her mind traced off into nothingness, clearing all thoughts and refusing any worries.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Her "friend's" knocked and yet, nobody was let in. Nobody was allowed in. Should be upset with them? Should be upset with herself? Being upset with herself almost ended her life. Years and years of blaming herself over do-or-die situations, over do-or-die choices, over do-or-die mindsets, almost ended her life.

Why would kid's, "friend's," from the same Isle as her - turn on her like that? Why would they throw her to the wolves knowing what it was like? Her mom made her that way. She has tried changing for the greater good. She wanted to please her mom and not make her angry.

They saw what happened when she made her mom angry. She tried killing them. How do they her mom would've reacted on the Isle? How do they think she would've reacted to Mal, daughter of the most feared female villian, choosing goodness over evil? That would squander her mom's reputation and it would squander Mal's life.

Mal sat her mom's box down on her diary. She remembered the panic she felt when deep secrets in there was getting released to the public. The person tormenting her was satisfied with their job, or so she believed. After all, she hasn't heard anything from them.

Did they want her to kill herself? Did they want everybody to turn against her? Did they want Ben to hate her?

And yet, she's called the sick and twisted one.

"I hate it here.." Mal said to herself, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. The entire point of her diary was to help her. Instead of keeping feelings bottled up; she wanted to let them out. She felt as though she was talking to a therapist in a way.

"Mal, can I come in? Please?"

It was Ben.

Mal hurried out of bed to close her curtains and double-checked to make sure her dormitory's, granted to her after what happened, door was locked before sliding back under her covers and covering herself up.

Since his love turned to poison, her mind cycled through emotions faster than a kid flipping radio channels. She's gone from level to rocky - fighting a mixture of competing emotions, each of them vying for dominance. 

Yet this coping is a thin veil over trauma and even the smallest of set backs change her emotional landscape. 

This was her fault. Everytime she grew emotionally attached to something, she ruined it. Her mom was right.

Her mom didn't believe in love; has never loved. And she lived her life without any worries, without any heartbreak. She lived her life with no tears; no sobs; no hurting. Maybe being like her mom wouldn't be so bad. Maybe protecting herself and her feelings wouldn't be so bad. Maybe leaving wouldn't be so bad.

'Love is weak.' She thought.

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