Short stories!

Heartbeat

I'm doin a 31 writing challenge~

Laying my head on Cleo's chest, I sigh. She runs her hands through my hair as I listen to her heartbeat. It's loud and fast. The thought that she's alive is soothing, but I'm still restless.

"I used to do this with my mother," I confess, "She used to tell me the way I think is rare, and not to let anyone morph it to fit them," I remember sitting on my bed, and listening to mother ramble about how they took her creativity, and how badly she wants it back. She would continue on for hours, or until I fell asleep.

I sigh, "I think I let her down, but she seemed...content. Once I turned eighteen, she said I'd lost my spark, but she loves the 'new' me more than the old me. Back then, I just laughed and agreed. I wish I'd told her I'm still me, but I think she'd just disagree,"

I now know that mother thought of me as a different person. When I was a kid, I was hopeful and unrealistic, but she loved it. She loved my unrealistic thoughts and creative wonder. When I turned eighteen and was on my way to college, she stopped me at the door. I still remember what she told me...

"If you're going to leave me, leave me with a fantastic memory. Leave me with something to hold onto. Leave me with a smile. Leave me with a laugh. Please- Please don't leave me on my knees, begging for your return," She cried, clinging to me. I sighed, and pulled her to my chest, "I'll leave you with my warmth. I'll leave you with my heartbeat. All I ask in return, is for you not to forget me when I return,"
Her grip didn't loosen, and she didn't miss a beat when she said, "But what if you don't return? You'll leave me alone and forget about me just like-"
By then, I knew who she was talking about. I dig into my bag, pulled out my stuffed bunny and wiggles out of her grasp. She seemed to recognize the bunny, as she gasped and her eyes went wide. I hand it to her, "There. Now I'll have to come back to get him,"

"Well what happened?" Cleo asks, watching as I knead my fingers into the stuffed bunny in my grasp.

I take a breath, "She...she got shot while I was away. She left me with the house and her stuff, as well as...the bunny..."

I just wish I listened to her and stayed. Stayed at least one more day to spend time with her and tell her I love her. Maybe I should've left her with something more useful, like a gun for her to defend herself. Maybe she wouldn't be dead if I did.
I guess it doesn't matter now, though. There's nothing I could do now.

Cleo's quiet. She takes a breath, "Well I know you have some of her recipes, right? I'll just cook you something to remember her," She smiles.

I nod softly, "Yeah...just don't make anything with Alcohol in the title. That's really old things that I'd rather not remember," I sigh as she gets up, and lay down on the couch.

Alcohol Pie, Alcohol cake, Drunk Lullaby. I remember Drunk Lullaby faintly. It was back when dad was around, like every other alcoholic thing mom made. He would come home from work, and fall onto the couch. I'd run out of my room and instantly play around with his hair. It's a thing that started once dad started growing his hair out, and mom taught me how to braid. He'd always laugh when I braided his hair, then fan mother over and suggest they sing Drunk Lullabies.
They'd only enjoy it when I was in bed, and I never dared to try it once. Mom said it'd kill me instantly if I did.

Back then, life was so simple. Nothing was bad, and life was perfect. I never had bad days because mother always made sure to cheer me up. I only had bad days once dad left, and that's when mostly everyday was a bad day. I'm not sure if I would say now things are as bad. Maybe more risky, but not as depressing.

I wouldn't say things are peaceful. That's a big lie. I have to move away most of the time and change my name since I did one crime, but I doubt Cleo cares anymore. I don't wish I didn't do the crime, since my life would be way different, but I wish I was a little better at hiding the evidence.

I hear Cleo in the kitchen, stirring and mixing stuff. I wish I didn't. Actually, I wish I didn't stay in mom's house. Staying in the place my mother died definitely isn't helping my mental health at all. If it wasn't already fucked up it definitely is now. All of these nightmares and- the fuck is that? In the corner of my eye, like always, is a woman. She's shorter than me, in a dirty and worn dress. But I quickly turn my head towards her and she's gone. I hate this. It isn't good for my anxiety and definitely not good for my paranoia.

My breathing, as usual, picks up, my heart rate skyrockets, and I close my eyes tight. I was about to call out for Cleo, but she taps my shoulder before I could. Looking up at her, she smiles and tucks her brown hair behind her ear. She's holding a plate of cookies.
"I finished cooking. You must've liked her cookies, right?" She asks. I sit up and take the plate from her, calming down.

"...yeah.." I nod. Picking one up, it's soft, while crunchy around the edges. I sigh as she sits down next to me.
"You're way too nice for my captive," I take a bite out of the cookie.