Dead Flower (Sequel to The Flower Girl Book Two)

Chapter 17: Shower Me With Love

I thought I saw a bug moving down the side of my wall. Then when I looked over, nothing was there but the blank, picture-less barrier keeping me from the outside. I've realized it was only the tears leaking down my face. Woken by the shaken bed. But that was only the sleep paralysis setting in. If this crash didn't kill me, the over stressing inside of my brain will.

They say each day is your choice. You decide whether you want to have a good day or not. Do you want to start your day off with a frown, or a smile? What they don't understand is, I'd kill to be happy all the time. The decrepitating thoughts don't want that. They want to see me dig myself in the hole deeper than the thoughts themselves.

Telling me lies that I shouldn't believe, but I do. Could be because I'm weak minded. Or because I haven't succumbed to that fact that I need to be medicated. I need to swallow that pill first. Clutching onto the sheets until my finger nails bleed, dying the white red, I cradle myself in the pillows.

Andrew has been ignoring me. They all have. I'm not sure what I'm doing, or even did wrong. The distance is suffocating. I scream for him, but he pretends to not hear. Has he gone deaf? Sometimes I think I have, with the way my ears shut the world away.

I sometimes wish the world was blind. So we all could see the same way, things the same. I overthink so damn much, that I think something's wrong with me. I definitely know something is wrong upstairs. I'm starting to fall in that trap again. I'm ugly. Andrew may have found someone better. Could I even fucking blame him?

I hope she makes him happy. But I also hope he would feel like me. Dead inside, hopeless, and ugly, but I don't think that's possible. Andrew is so sure of himself. A confident man who doesn't need validation. I strive to be as such.

Lost in the darkness, but that's what I love. Maybe I just love being sad. Addicted to the feeling of the pain that isn't even visible. Letting my cries scream into the pillow, they're smothered by the silk pillowcase.

I quickly lock the door, so Andrew won't see me in the state that I'm in. He has to grow annoyed with my episodes by now. Ready for another nap, the only thing that keeps me sane. I hop onto the large cushion that holds so many memories. Where Andrew held me, fucked me, made love to me, soothed me.

The door knob jingles. His booming voice barges in before he can. "Veronica. What do you want to eat?"

But I don't want to eat. I'm not hungry. It doesn't matter that I didn't eat a thing today. I'm getting what I deserve. Aging quickly with the bags under my eyes. Gaunt from not eating, I just want to disappear. No one gets it. They never will unless they do.

I'm tired of catching the falling tears. Of being so alone. It's not fair. He tugs the handle. "Let me in."

The only movement I make is squeezing my eyes shut. I don't want to be bothered with, but I don't want to be alone. How does that make any fucking sense? It doesn't, because I never will. When I'm old and gray, will I still feel this way? Possibly, if I don't do something about it.

The footsteps fade, so I know he left and gave up. For the best. Thinking I can just go back to sleep, the door opens, but I don't jump up. I stay laying in the bed, in the same position. With the tears fucking raining down. I have to be so dehydrated by now.

Where's it all coming from? A hand pushes my foot. "Hey...why did you lock the door?" I sniffle the snot that has vacated my nose. Noting that I have to wash the sheets and blanket. "Veronica." I can't even look at him. He can't see me this way, though he has so many times.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, his weight sends me further into the mattress. "Veronica...please don't shut me out. Talk to me baby."

I lay in the room full of tears. One could feel the negative ora. "What do you want from me Andrew?!" I snap. Unleashing my misery on him.