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❝ narcissists and i do not get along. ❞
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GRIEF IS A THING WITH FANGS. And it longs to be accepted. Enola resisted it for days before she finally understood why it lingered just outside her window, begging to be let inside. It asked her to put it to bed every night like it is a child, to feed it with all of her love and grace. It wants a mother so much, because who else could love such a painful monster? Who else could kiss its poisonous forehead and razor sharp hands. Who else would risk the bleeding? So, in private, she simply did what was required. She gave it the nurture it begged for. She nourished it, trusting that like any other good monster, one day—when it has fed enough—it may finally leave. She built the ferocious beast a room in her heart and learned how to live with it. Everything felt like a wound between these four small walls, but there is nowhere else she can heal.
Enola Gilbert woke that morning to her grief angrily clawing at her chest. Unfortunately, her blissful sleep was disrupted by yet another nightmare. The water was cold against her skin. It rushed around her like a storm, tearing her hair in many different directions until it clouded her vision. She wasn't able to see a single thing. She wanted to kick up to the surface, to breathe the air she knew was only a few meters away. But she stayed frozen, sinking lower and lower in her whirlpool of dread and despair until her feet touched the soft sand at the bottom. Her eyes were closed and everything around her was darkness. Her lungs burned, burned, burned until she feared they were going to finally burst. The surface was so close that she could reach it if she just kicked up. But she doesn't. She doesn't want to. And that is when it ends. With the realization that she wouldn't mind if she never made it out of there alive. It sounds horrible and cruel, but that is just the world we live in.
"Do I look like an adult?" Jenna questioned, stopping both Elena and Enola as they exited their respective rooms. "As in respectfully parental?"
"Depends where you're going." Elena hummed.
"And who is going to be there," Enola continued.
"Jeremy's parent-teacher conference with the history teacher—Mr. Tanner, I think." Jenna informed, briskly making her way over to the hallway mirror to make sure that she looks presentable. "Hair up or down?"
"Sexy stewardess," Elena commented before Jenna dropped her hair, letting it flow past her shoulders. "Boozy housewife."
"You're feisty today," Jenna noted.
"And also wrong." Enola intervened, turning to her Aunt with a raised brow. "Do you see her hair?"
