As we pull into the driveway of grandma's extravagantly beautiful home in the rural part of the city, I am immediately sent back to my childhood days.
The way it feels to drive across the gravel reminds me of how they rumble beneath a horse's hooves. I started riding horses, all native of my grandmother's farm, when I was three. My first pony I named Sparklekiss,geeky, I know, whom I shared partial "custody" over with my childhood friend, Jake Mayes. We were inseparable anf, made obvious by my custody comment, we loved to play pretend.
My next favorite memory is brought on by the lovely rose garden that lines the left side of the driveway.
There must be dozens of rows and columns of roses creating a semicircular garden lined with red bricks. There are an abundance of colors, breeds, and sizes. Some of my favorites are the red velvet, which are red with touches of black, pink ice, and more general breeds that tend to create a rainbow effect.
Every Sunday when I was small, my grandmother would send me out here to gather a bouquet of roses for the family dinner.
On the occasional day we caught grandma off guard, Jake and I would gather petals to use for a variety of things.
We would make foods, mash them to create succulent aromas, and one time, we done something really special. We threw ourselves a wedding, which made me believe in puppy love.
When my mom started getting into trouble, and my dad tried to cover for her, our family started to fall apart. We stopped coming over, except for holidays and very rare visits. I lost touch with my best friend. Sometimes, I still wonder what happened to him. Maybe now that I'm here with grandma, if he's still in the area, we can reunite. The thought brings me an unbelievable amount of joy.
Back to reality, grandma and I get out and head toward the house. I'm now sturdy enough to make my way around, though grandma insists on helping me.
The exterior of her home appears to be its same, soothing self. Grandma has a two story brick home with baby blue shudders and two stained wooden porches, one on the front, and one on the back, which is more like a balcony, being on the second story.
As we approach the elegantly designed, solid oak door, grandma spins me around to sit on the porch swing with her.
"I stopped by your favorite store, Hot Topic, and picked you up three outfits and a pair of pajamas until we can get to your mother's house on Monday. I also left you some toiletries in the upstairs bathroom and if there's anything else I've forgotten, let me know, sweetie." Grandma Carolyn grinned a huge, eager smile. "I'm so excited that you're here, Alexa. We're going to have so much fun! Next week we'll start redecorating you're room for you, and go shopping, and-"
I broke her off, giving her a strangling, heartfelt hug. Her shoulders seemed to relax a bit.
"I love you grandma and I'm so glad to be here with you, too. Thank you so much for everything you're doing," I said.
Beginning to get choked up, I pull away to see a soft tear rolling down her rosy cheek and wipe it away with my thumb.
Hand in hand, we rise up and start inside.
The first thing you notice when you walk into grandma's home is that you are standing in a country chic dining room. To the left, is a simple kitchen she cooks homemade heavenly meals in almost every day. Straight ahead from the door is a set of oak stairs leading to the second floor.
Right of the stairs is a study room with what I always associated with a miniature library. Left of the stairs is the guest bedroom decorated with old artifacts from when she and my grandfather went on their adventures.
I never met my grandpa before his death, and grandma seldom discusses what happened to him.
Following grandma, we head upstairs to get me settled in.
Through a set of French doors straight ahead, is the master bedroom that belongs to grandma Carolyn. From there, a series of rooms branch off to both sides. My room is the third one to the right with a full bathroom and the balcony.
The walls of the room are a soft lavender and the floor has a light pink carpeting. The whole second floor is carpeted actually.
I'd like to keep the wall color, but this childish punk carpet has to go. There is a twin size, white bed, which grandma says we'll replace with a full size one, a vanity, a matching chest, a set of drawers, some of my old toys, a grand piano, and a walk in closet.
Somewhere during my moment of awe at my old environment, grandma left my side.
Exhausted from the past few days and my medication, I plunge onto the tiny bed and start digging in my bed for my headphones. All of the cords from my chargers and headphones remind me of the tubes from the hospital. Ugh. I'm ready to drown that thought out.
Searching through my messy handbag, something sharp pricks me, leaving a bloody trail down my finger. I tilted the bag, looking for whatever cut me, when the light hit the object, causing it to glitter. It was my razor blades, my comforters. You'd think I'd be used to the sensation,but it's different when I unintentionally hurt myself.
When I do it on purpose, it seems to take more pain off my mind when I put it onto my body. I've never had anything strong enough to lean on and lay my problems down to. Therefore, I blame myself for everything, rely on no one for anything, and deal with my pain in means of hurting myself, which no one seems to understand.
You see , I can deal with the physical pain, but it's the mental and emotional crap I can't handle. I hate myself even more for that; I'm weak and useless to the whole freaking world.
Well, time to drown myself out with some music.
I pull up Pandora and start listening to Comatose by Skillet, my favorite band. I went to a concert of theirs once with James. Looking back at that, even though it was great, I'm disgusted at myself for spending time with him.
"I'm tired of feeling like this, so tired of trying to fight this. I'm asleep and all I dream of, is waking to you!"
These song lyrics give me a nice, yet longing feeling. One day, I hope that I have these feelings for someone, to want nothing more than to be with them.
I see happy couples everywhere at school, and it only reminds me of what I have lost with James, and that I have no one to love me in a romantic sort of way. I actually have hope, though, that one day, someone will love me, in that way, for who I am.
I open my eyes, not realizing that I was almost asleep, to see grandma standing in the doorway, smiling.
"Are you hungry 'Lexa?" She asks.
I'm not sure when this came about and why I didn't notice, but I could eat a human, with my appetite. I guess that's sensible since I've had nothing but fluids for four days.
"Extremely!" I exclaimed.
She giggled and I followed her downstairs to the dining room.
Grandma made my favorite meal. She prepared chicken alfredo, garlic bread, chef salads, and iced tea.
Throughout dinner, we discussed what we would do this week, where I would start school at the following week, and Jake, my childhood friend. Apparently, he's still grandma's neighbor and he's studying she preparing to preach. Tomorrow, when we go to church, I will see him for the first time in eight years.
From somewhere deep in my soul, excitement sprays out of every pore of my body. Unexpectedly, for the first time ever, I expirience what it's like to have my heart flutter.
YOU ARE READING
Cutting toward Calvary
Fanfiction"Most girls my age are labeled by their cliques, their brands of clothing, or by the masks of their fake personalities they present to people. Me, well, my scars tell my story. My name is Alexa Jade Hill. I'm sixteen. I self harm. I want to die." L...
