𐄁 Trixya One Shots 𐄁

Remember

a/n - This was made to poke fun at some Wattpad clichés so have fun reading ! 

~~~

"Katya I-"

"Shh," she shushed me, fixing her green army cap and tucking a strand of blonde hair into it. Her body stuck out from the dusty train window as other soldiers did the same.

The tears in my eyes welled as I was about to bawl like every Wattpad cliché there was. The train howled, signaling its last warning for its passengers to get aboard. The grey smog blew up into the sky like an ominous cloud on a rainy day.

I clenched the faded maroon material on my layered dress, biting the bottom of my lip to hold in the tears.

"Give me your hand."

"Wha-"

"Give. Me. Your. Hand."

I held out my hand, shaken by her sudden urgency. She took my hand and placed something in it, then closed it with both of her hands around mine.

"Promise me you'll protect it, yeah?"

I sniffled dramatically and nodded, whatever in my hand, held high importance. She gave me a small smile and wrapped her arms around me for one last hug before she left for the war.

The train wheels started moving, I felt her arms pull away from me even though she tried to lengthen the hug.

I watched her wave from the train window until the view of her hand disappeared in the thick fog of May.

I held my position for a few moments, reminiscing the memories we had. You could almost hear the sad violins playing in the background. It even started raining for crying out loud.

I bent my head to look down at this thing in my closed hand. What was this thing that was so important? Why did she give it to me? I thought to myself as I uncurled my fingers.

In my hand, was a single, crumpled, blue candy wrapper.

~

Years have passed since I saw her on the train. The war has raged on, growing bloodier every day as I write in my journal. I've seen the bodies come back in the caskets and the families that cry for them. Sometimes the corpses come back in pieces and sometimes they don't come back at all.

Empty caskets give me a memory, an illusion of what could've been. I don't exactly like looking at them, they always make me jump to conclusions.

Thump!

I stopped writing and placed my pen down. I looked at the clock, it was 11 pm.

Thump!

I got up to open the door, curious on who's knocking at this ungodly hour.

Breathless, it was the lobby boy holding out a folded letter.

"A, a letter for you... miss," He wheezed out. I shakily took the letter, thanking him as he stumbled back to the front desk. It seemed like he wanted out as quick as he could, I wondered why.

I went back to my desk and opened the letter. It seemed war torn and dusty, a bit frayed at the edges. In scribbled handwriting it said,

Dear Trixie Mattel,

We are here sadly to inform you that Katya Zamolodchikova has died on the battlefield. It was told that she was shot in the chest six times by an enemy soldier by the name of Violet Chachki. She was a persistent fighter as you might know. Her body could not be recovered due to the rain and weather. We only recovered a lock of hair that we folded into a pouch behind this letter. We are sorry for your loss.

Sincerely,

The US Army.

It was if my body deceived me. I didn't want to believe it. My hands shook as I turned the letter around to see the little burlap pouch waxed onto the back of it. I carefully peeled it off, still rejecting the information that was given to me.

Inside, I saw a small lock of faded blonde hair. There were bits of dried mud stuck to it and it looked as if it was splashed with blood.

I cried. I cried my heart out, clutching at the lock of hair like it was the end of the world because it was.

It was, for me.