~ Madison Pierce.
22 years, 24.08.1997.
Brown eyes and dark brown curls.
Madison is a Dutch girl who goes on an exchange to America for a year, to escape her pain and in the hope that her sorrow will disappear. It seems to work well; she feels at ho...
I turned around one last time. Behind me, my parents were watching me; they laughed one last time and waved goodbye. I had absorbed them one last time before I walked to the hall of my flight.
My mother was dressed, as usual, a little old-fashioned. Her short brown hair curled a little, and her look was friendly. My father laughed at me in his old jeans and a simple black shirt. His eyes always became slits, and his gray goatee looked even funnier. I would miss them, but it was not that I would never see them again.
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madisnpiercee Up in the clouds, on my way to unknown things 🛩
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username1 Disappear! quarrelbilly Have fun! bananainthehouse Gonna miss you 🙁 username2 I hope you will stay away from us. 17 minutes ago
I was back in a year. A year on exchange. Why did I do this again? To forget the pain and to leave the sadness behind me? Could I leave that behind me?
"Do you want a drink?" A friendly stewardess took me out of my mind. I try to sound as natural as possible in my answer. "No, thanks." I didn't get a smile on my face. Smiling is part of being happy, but I was not.
Happy times have been behind me for a while. In happy times I wasn't on a plane right now. I saw everything come back in a flashback, how everything went worse and worse every year.
Every year something terrible seemed to happen to me so that it eventually became a big hopeless mountain of pain and sorrow. With my grandma's death, I got excluded from class and friends who abandoned me. It was all wrong. But the worst thing I had to endure this year.
I seemed to be able to handle every setback I had before. Because every time I had that special someone who helped me through it. The one who could make me forget everything and make me smile again, no matter in what mood I was. But of course, that changed about two months ago. It was a phone call. A phone call that I did not expect at all.
"Madison..." I heard the pain and the fear in his voice. "Madison, she's dead. She had an accident. She landed wrong after a fall. She died instantly."
Shock. My best friend was dead—Riley, my only support and welcome. I felt the pain flowing back through my body, and I tried to get hold of myself. I managed it more closely. The man sitting beside me looked at me strangely, but I didn't care.
