Seven Reasons Not To Die

vi | perhaps it's butterflies

She slept until one, an odd occurrence considering the ungodly hours she was forced to awake on days before. Though it was the pressure on her chest that let her know she wasn't the only one sleeping in late today. She didn't know how it happened, but sometime during the night Poppy had found herself in a comfortable position. Obviously comfortable for the brunette, though Maria's breathing capability could debate on the comfortable part on her behalf. The taller girl was practically sleeping on top of her. Maria's mind drifted to the thought of her aunt having already checked on them today, if she hadn't been hearing enough teasing for the past three days she wouldn't have thought much of it.

Maria could have found herself falling back asleep, with a bit of adjusting she found a comfortable position for both of them. Though the idea of more sleep was cut short from reality when Poppy awoke. It seemed to take her just a moment to notice what she had been using as a pillow.

"I'm so sorry!" Poppy jumped scooting away from Maria, who wasn't as bothered with any of this as she thought she should have been.She let it be though as she clambered out of her bed, she barely noticed the reddened face of the other girl.

"Don't worry about it alright, now come on I'm sure we have some waffles in the freezer." Maria had nearly forgot that Poppy had worn a set of old clothes of hers to bed. There wasn't a reason why she shouldn't have worn them, after all wearing a dress to bed would be anything but comfortable. So the brown eyed girl followed Maria down the hall, of course they were unable to hide  from Gloria for forever.

"Oh good morning girls, or afternoon I suppose. You both seemed mighty comfy when I checked on you." Gloria laughed as she took in the uncomfortable looks crossing the younger faces, "Alright well I gotta get to work, love you." So doing a last run of the house to make sure everything was in order, Gloria left the two teens to their own devices for the day.

"Can I braid your hair?" The day had been uneventful, and oddly quiet compared to those before. Still Maria wasn't sure if Poppy had recovered from yesterday, and she didn't see it her place to ask about it. She looked at Poppy from her bed, the brown haired girl had made herself comfortable laid out across the floor with one of Maria's few books before her.

"I suppose if you want," Maria shrugged, setting her book beside her. Carefully hands gathered her hair together as she turned her back towards Poppy. The feeling of hands running through her hair was odd, almost foreign from the years older ones had done the same. It had been at some point a sense of comfort from her mother, but there had been more laughter then.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, I really am." Poppy spoke after a moment, by now she didn't know if she was actually braiding Maria's hair, or simply playing with it for something to do.

"There's no reason you should feel the need to apologize. I don't want to pry, and I understand that." Maria wasn't able to see the look that crossed the girls features, but the silence that followed was filled with both girls minds wandering to a different place.

Poppy wasn't sure if she knew what she was doing anymore, her mother could have been right. Who was she to assume anything she said to Maria would be enough to save her? How could she put all of this on Gloria, from what she could see the woman had enough on her shoulders. Between all the various jobs she had to pick up, just so she could keep a roof over their heads. Maybe that morning of charcoal biscuits hadn't been that torturous, being able to ask question she wouldn't dare ask Maria. Still just because she knew these things, and had an idea of how she thought she was helping, couldn't there still be the possibility she was only making things worse? She wanted so badly to believe only the best things could happen, but her father had long since proven to her that the world didn't work that way.

"Poppy, if.....if I stay, my problems," Maria paused taking in a breathe before she continued, "My problems aren't going to disappear, you can't expect to fix me in seven days." It seemed she too had dwelled just a bit to long in her own thoughts.

Poppy hummed in response, mindlessly twisting the plaits of Maria's hair together, "I'm not expecting to fix you, if I could give you just a bit of hope, do you have a hair tie?" Poppy steered off topic as she went to taking out her own pony tail, "Today's reason, to survive so that one day you can say I made it, because strength in this situation is one of the most important things, there I'm done!"

Poppy urged Maria to climb off the bed, dragging her into the bathroom to look at her masterpiece, "It's beautiful, thank you Poppy." She smiled in the mirror, the familiar expression now made it's home on Poppy's face once again. Maria was confused by the feeling of warmth that had begun to spread through her chest, and eventually made its way to her face.

"Come on let's go outside!" Poppy exclaimed, not seeming to remember she still wore the same clothes she had slept in, nor did she pay mind to her hair spread out wildly around her face. Though Maria didn't have much to complain about, both still barefoot in her flannel pajamas once again treading down the sidewalk. Maria didn't know what to think, this mood change was nothing if not startling. Still the smile on Poppy's face made it better, because there shouldn't be anything but laughter coming from the girl that wore yellow sundresses.

When Poppy finally made the decision to return home, she was concerning herself with why she hadn't told Maria. Hadn't she asked her for her own reasons, why she wanted to help her so badly. Maybe she hadn't really had in mind to help Maria but saw more of a chance to fix past mistakes. If they could be counted as mistakes in the first place. That was before, she assumed she hadn't only seen Maria that day,  but had witnessed an underlying face that she kept in a battered picture frame in her bedroom.

Her mother wasn't home as she creeped through the door, the night shift was a plus for her now. She didn't know how she would react to seeing her mother, Eliza's words had cut, or more so reopened wounds she thought had closed long ago. The thoughts had been pushed down, they had been nothing but fainted pale pink scars, but her mother's accusations had stabbed ruthlessly and told her everything she had mindlessly been doing up to that moment.