Hate

Hate.

That’s the one thing I feel

Hate.

But it's not for him

Its for me

I hate myself

I hate myself for not noticing

I hate that I found him

I hate he did this

Hate

I hate that I don’t hate him

I hate how I feel

I hate weeping my eyes out

I hate that I needed my cousin to hold my hand

I hate how much my uncle reminds me of him

Hate

I hate how he hid it

Trapping his bubbling feelings inside

I hate we never noticed

All 4 of us

Now 3

I hate how late I came

How I couldn’t save him

How he looked when I found him

We texted him

Unresponded texts still live in his phone

I thought I could be strong and make a new beginning

I was wrong

Love

Love

Is all I feel

When I gaze through his brown eyes

My love

His smile warms my heart

Melts it straight through the grass

How he smiles

Making me smile

I love him

He loves me

Comforts me

Knows me

Feels my feelings for me

Knows me better than anyone else can

Knows what I am thinking just by looking in my eyes

Sometimes not even needing to

Someone who can read me

Someone I can understand

Someone who allows me to collapse onto his shoulder

Someone who would fight for me

Who would never let me go

Someone who can laugh with me

Confidence

He gives me confidence

And laughs

Stands for me

Meant for me

Loves me

Daydream

My mother sits in the kitchen.

Waiting for the soup to boil over

She was never a lady, growing up on a farm with her uncle and aunt

She hated the thoughts of fancy gowns and such

She only lived in this life for me

A life of ballgowns and sitting and makeup and money.

Over and over again

I stand up and walk out the door

I see a yellow road of brick

Wait a golden road of brick

Sweet little people dance and sing in the hills

I must have fallen asleep for this is the land my mother always spoke of

I follow the road finding a man of tin holding the hand of a small tin child

I smile at the tin child

The child hides shyly behind the tin man’s legs

The child then bounces out to greet a teenage looking scarecrow

The scarecrow sits glaring at all of the things

Wearing black lipstick over her lips and her hair in two separate braids

I laugh

Now I know I am dreaming

I suddenly fall to the floor feeling the sharp pain of two paws digging their claws into my arm

I get up and see a almost newborn lion cub sitting there

I stick my hand out for it to sniff

The baby lion nuzzles my hand as I stroke it’s fuzzy head

It bites my finger

“OW!” I sit  up to see my mom looking at me nervously. “You alright? You were out for a bit”

“I am fine mom. Thanks”I smile as I tackle  her in a hug “Honey where did you get those claw marks from?!” I laugh “It’s a long story”

Betrayal

The box weighs heavy in my hand. I think how ridiculous that is.  Straying off the path to find the weeping willow. It looks at me as if begging me to come sleep in its branches or swim in the river next to it. I brush the offers away knowing the one thing I must do.Sweeping a few of the hanging vines away, I plop myself down at the base of the trunk. A war with myself rages in my head. Part of me says to just empty out the contents, the other part saying to never let go of the box. I want both and I yet don’t want either. I touch my bare neck. Finally, a part of me wins, pulling the clear tape gently off the cardboard box. I open the lid slowly.

One...Two...Three!

Quickly I tip the box over. My golden brown hair gets into my usually bright green eyes that are now tear stained. I can't tell if those tears are from the contents or the hair in my eyes.

I look down expecting to see only ash. Instead a Russian doll stares back at me from the dirt floor. Hand painted I could tell,  red and practically glowing. Its rosey cheeks and bright eyes stare at me with such joy that I want to scream. But I know the contents. Grabbing the doll I step back and throw the doll into the tree. With my bad aim it almost completely misses, but it hits it. It doesn’t dent a bit. The ugly doll stares back at me, its beady eyes turning a dark shade of red.  Almost like blood. I blink, and the doll seems normal. This time I grab the doll in my hand and tighten my fist around the doll, but it keeps smiling at me. I slam the doll against the dark wood. I scrape my hand against the rough bark. I don’t care. Anything it takes to destroy it. It finally breaks in my hand as I slam it one last time. I stare at my bloody hand, ash sticking to the blood. After a moment of tears I wash my hands off in the river. The cool water feels good on my hot skin. I look back at the ash and it seems to say good bye. Through tears, I smile at it. I trudge over and lay down near the ash. My eyes stare at the bits of sun creeping through the branches and vines. I whisper softer than ever before “I’m sorry.”

I fall asleep feeling like she was sitting next to me.

Stroking my hair.

One last time.

I almost reach out to touch her blonde hair. But I know that if I do she will leave.

Forever this time

Danger

My eyes dart from one corner to another. Everything sits. I see the small cameras hidden in the leaves. All of them turned to me.

I always saw them.

They don’t know that.

I always saw the way my parents were almost custom fit for me.

Fake.

They don’t know what I know either.

The cameras watch me waiting for something.

I get up knowing if I bore them they will spice things up.

Starting to make a shelter I grab twigs and drag logs.

I don’t stop working even when my hands bleed and blister.

I was born just for this.

I was born to be an experiment.

My hands hurt and my body aches until I give in and lay on the forest floor.

I pretend to sleep.

They know it.

They don’t like it.

My muscles tense.

I know that feeling.

I get it everyday. That feeling of being watched by something.

I turn around trying to look as if I am truly asleep.

I see it.

I bored them out.

They had already decided they didn't want me.

I stumble up slowly tired of being pushed around.

A head pops up.

A baby leopard head. Then 3 more.

I know who is next.

Indépendance

The little baby looks at me. I know I love that little squirmy thing. I quietly promise her that I would always protect her. She looks up at me. I give her my finger. Her light olive hand clings to just my finger. She is so delicate yet I know will be so strong. Her brown eyes look at me. Full of love.

“I’m not alone” I think to myself “Veronica, Valerie?”

I laugh “Maybe dad will get away with naming you tank”

The baby smiles at me. My heart melts and I know that no matter what I will always love this little baby. In some ways she might be the only thing that I know I can always count on.

This baby will always be part of me. Connected to me forever.

The infant doses off. I refuse to leave her side. I reach in to pick her up so that I can hold her. My mom notices and gently pushes my arms away.

“Be careful! You might drop he!r”

I nod as she picks up the baby and motions for me to sit down on our striped couch. Though all of the stripes are the same color every other one is kinda fluffy.

My mom puts the infant into my arms.

“I like Veronica”

My mom shakes her head.

My dad snorts a bit. “I liked tank but your mom refused.”

I laugh as my mom glares at him.

“I think the person who made the term ‘mama bear’ met my mom” I think to myself.

“Is the baby ever gonna have hair?”

My mom laughs.

“She is gonna have a lot of hair.” she pauses “Valentina”

I love her already. I repeat the name just to get familiar. Beautiful just like the baby.

Confusion

The flower stays pressed against my nose. I never know why people do that. I hardly smell a thing never the less a sweet fragrance. The sunflower almost matches the floral pattern of my yellow summer dress. The flower smiles at me glistening with dew. Or water from the sprinklers. My dirty blonde hair is tied back by a braid. It pulls on my scalp. I blink my crystal blue eyes at the flower. I wonder why I pick them. Do I end a life just for my own selfish cause? I shake those thoughts out of my head and start humming a tune I heard on the radio. I rip out the hair band tying my hair back. I untangle the braid and hop to my grandma’s room. She’s not in her room as I  thought she would be. Sitting there with her blue eyes smiling at me. She is bald though, but she had long blonde hair. I could tell from the many pictures we have of her. I skip to dad’s room. My spirit unfaltering. I skip through his door and stand behind his chair, my dad swivels to face me.

“Where is grandma?” He strokes my hair lovingly.

“Gone” he whispers “I tried to wake her but she didn’t”

I run out of his small office almost tripping on the piles of paper stacked on the ground. I sprint  through the halls. I don’t care about a thing. I move to my room and curl up. Not wanting to leave. Not wanting to move. Not wanting to breath.

I fall asleep hoping none of that happened.

No one comes to comfort me to see if I am okay. No one comes to hug me.

I know they are preparing for the baby. I wouldn't hold that against them.

I know that as much as I know what her last words were about.

Me