The Girl With the Dandelion Ring

Chapter 2: Police, Pain, and A Bloody Brit

Chapter 2: Police, Pain, and A Bloody Brit

Losing someone is hard. Watching the life slip out of someone's eyes was one of the most difficult things I've ever been through. I feel like I should be with her. She left me behind in this cruel world searching desperately for answers to questions I don't even understand. When I try to go about my day I find myself constantly plagued by thoughts of Rachel. Every time her name enters my mind I feel a pain. It hits me every time and I realize how small and alone I am.

It gets better as time goes on. That's what so many people have said to me.

I'm going to call bullshit. It doesn't get better. Ever. Maybe one day I won't cry about her, maybe I'll look back on our memories and smile, knowing that she truly was a great friend to me, but those memories will always be tainted with the heavy weight of her absence. We could have made so many great memories together, but she died because of this ring. The simple glass orb holding dozens upon dozens of tiny dandelion seeds. I shake my head and zone back into my surroundings.

I sit in a cafe with a simple, leather bound notebook. A rose engraved on the cover, with trailing vines wrapping around the entire book. It has an older feel to it; the pages are slightly yellowed to resemble a used book. I've started to write random things down in it, from my thoughts and emotions to the color of the shoes on the woman that is ordering a half dozen blueberry muffins. I tap my pen anxiously as I wait for my order to be finished, they had run out of the gingerbread cookies I had come here for so I offered to wait until their afternoon shipment was in.

It was worth the wait though. While I was looking at their menu I ordered two random things and settled down with my notebook.

Most people fall in love either all at once or over years. For me it was the former. Once my eyes saw it I was smitten. Yes, it, not he. I would never be stupid enough to fall in love with some guy. Real love came to me in the form of a venti caramel machiatto. Two pumps of caramel, one pump of vanilla, some skim milk, and an extra espresso shot to tie it off.

I smile as I take another sip. My triple cocoa cheesecake tastes heavenly on my tongue. I roll around the sweet, creamy textured cake as I admire its elegance. The chocolate drizzle lays beautifully over the mocha filing, and seven curly chocolate shavings remain on the Oreo crust. I smile down at it as I take a drink. It feels good to gorge myself every once in a while. Food has been a good coping method for me.

My head jerks up as I hear a women call my name. A small blonde girl holds a bag of cookies loosely in her left hand and beckons me forwards with her other. I grab my book and fetch my wallet out of my purse. I had her the money and walk out. As I grab the handle, it's pushed from the other side. The door swings towards me and hits my foot. I let out a hiss of pain and jump back, clutching my foot in both hands.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't quite see you there," the culprit says.

"Yeah, whatever," I reply. I brush past him, not stopping to look at him and only catching a glimpse of shaggy brown hair under his gray hoodie. I hear him speaking to me, but I don't catch the words so I keep walking.

I limp towards my house, clinging to my purse; one can never be too careful while walking alone through an empty street. Even though it's the middle of the day one never knows what might happen. My hand tightens against my strap as I glance down towards my ring. I bring my hand up to my face so that my fingers are level with my eyes. If anything does happen I guess I could just wish the problem away. . . If that's how this whole thing works.

I groan in frustration as my hand balls up into a fist. I let it fall back to my side as I think about the ring. I'm still clueless as to how this whole thing works; I've been too busy mourning Rachel and trying to decipher her warnings to bother with it. That whole night just seems like some dream-no, I correct myself- like a nightmare.