Paris Wills is a dreamer. His father always said he got it from his mom, an artist who was unlike any other. Her virtue was painting, and Paris' is poetry. No matter where he is, Paris finds inspiration for his poems.
In the summer after his sophom...
I wake up and everything feels even worse than it did before he came.
It's then that I realize, life never gets better. No matter what I do or who I meet, it'll all go to hell in the end.
Life never gets better. Just when I think things are turning around, I'm brutally reminded how awful things were before. For once in my life, I thought I could be happy again. I hoped to escape this wretched house and breathe in the fresh air. Maybe even fall in love. But that'll never happen.
***
I've been lying in bed for the past hour, no desire to crawl out from under the sheets. The house is deadly calm, not even the slightest activity occurring downstairs. My father must've left before I woke up.
When I consider doing something today, nothing comes to mind. What's the point? As I've learned time and time again, life never gets better. No matter what I do, it all comes crashing down in the end.
Why did my mom have to go so soon? I've begged God countless times to bring her back, yet I never received the answer I desperately desired.
Meanwhile, I watched my father slip into madness. He started with alcohol. It was easier, and legal, to get drunk. However, he eventually needed a stronger "fix" to numb his senses and escape reality. Drinking only numbed the pain for so long. He wanted to forget. He wanted to disappear. From the world. From me.
I didn't know what to do. So I prayed. I prayed for hours. I prayed until exhaustion overcame me. Eventually, I realized my prayers were futile. I gave up on prayer.
Just as I was about to give up on God, my mom appeared to me in the cemetery. The first time it happened, I couldn't stop sobbing. Tears poured from my eyes until she vanished, and then I wailed in the privacy of the pitch black night. Seeing my mom one minute and waving goodbye the next felt like losing her all over again. Death reaped its harvest and ripped out my heart, squeezing it tight to remind me of all the things I'd never get to feel again. The comforting touch of my mom's hands wrapped around my torso. The nurturing brush of her finger moving a loose curl out of my face. The gentle feel of her lips kissing my forehead. None of it would happen ever again.
First, my mom left me. Then, my father. And, now, Gray.
I thought that Gray could fix what had been broken. Instead, I'm shattered into a million pieces with nobody to glue me back together.
***
While tracing my fingers along the soft sheets, I hear a knock at the front door. I close my eyes and hope that whoever's there will go away. It's probably a door-to-door salesman. Seconds later, I hear another knock. I let out a bitter sigh and wrap myself up in the comforter, trying to drown out the persistent knocking. Eventually it stops and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Later, I hear another knock and groan, my patience running thin. In shock, I realize the knock isn't coming from the front door but rather my window. Alarmed, I crawl out from underneath the covers and tiptoe across the room. My curls are a tangled mess and I haven't washed this shirt in days, but I could care less.
Upon pulling back the curtains, I yelp at the sight of Gray staring at me from outside, tightly gripping hold of a ladder. He chuckles, a smug smirk plastered on his face. What is he doing here? Has he come to tell me I've been replaced? That my overactive imagination fabricated his feelings for me?
Infuriated, I prop open the window and frown at Gray. His smile immediately diminishes when he catches sight of my irritated scowl.
"What are you doing here?" I mumble, my arms folded across my chest. Gray's smile falters, embarrassed beyond reproach.
"I came to see you," Gray mutters, unsure of himself. I've never seen Gray so timid.
"Just leave me alone."
The words come out faster than I can process them, rising to the top like yellow bile bubbling in my esophagus, burning Gray with its acidic fire.
It took every ounce of courage left inside of me to tear Gray down like that. He's devastated, close to crying, and so am I. Except it's better this way. Gray and Naomi can be a cute, happy couple.
Without another word, I slam the window shut, draw the curtains, and dive back into bed, refusing to take another look at Gray's crestfallen gaze.
The tears finally break from my eyes and I sob into my pillow, unable to believe that I just lost the boy I was beginning to love.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
