Rated: 13+ · Other · Relationship · #1869522
Marcelia is still getting over the death of her boyfriend.
|Another day. Another day of living in her pain that had swallowed her whole. She walked through the halls, though no one noticed her. No one cared. After the accident, everyone wanted nothing to do with her.|
And it hurt.
Marcelia was left alone, just a young girl having to face high school. Yet, this time it was different. This time it was a pain. What had changed? He was gone.
And He would never come back.
Marcelia held back the tears as she went to her locker, grabbing a few items for first period. The morning flew by with her in a complete haze. She answered questions when she needed to, explained how she got her answer, ignored the stares and the whispering.
Ignored the glares full of hatred.
It wasn't always like this. Use to, Marcelia's life was full of happiness and love. But now..
Only hate and depression.
It had been two weeks since Drake died in that horrid accident.
And Marcelia still blamed herself for all of it as did everyone else.
She closed her eyes, recalling the night with full detail.
It had been cold and the ground was wet from the rain. Drake honked the horn of his old car from outside. Marcelia ran down the stairs, laughing. She said goodbye to her mom and dad and ran out the door without a second thought, happy to see Drake. Hopping into the passenger seat, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Then they started to drive down the street. They made jokes and talked about the latest gossip and how Mrs. Micker has been caught smoking on the school grounds.
"Marcelia?" Drake said lightly, not looking away from the road.
"Yeah?" She replied, looking at him.
"I love you." he said, looked at her.
"I love you too." She smiled, her heart bursting with happiness.
And then it happened.
A truck hit them right smack in the front. The sound of metal and screaming filled her ears and she could feel the shocking pain in her shoulder. Everything went black for a moment, though it felt like hours.
When she came back to, the car had been thrown against a tree. All was quiet. Blood filled Marcelia's eyes from a large cut on her forehead. She looked over at Drake, who was gone.
Panic filled through her. She crawled out of the car, ignoring the agony. Then she saw it.
Drake was slung a bit away. She limped over to him, shaking him. He stayed motionless, his eyes close.
"Drake? Drake! Wake up!" she yelled.
Blood had covered him and, she realized with horror, that he was dead.
"No, no, no, DRAKE! You can't leave me!" she screamed.
And she kept screaming that until finally, the police dragged her away from his body. The paramedics put him in a black body bag.
And that was the last time she saw him.
Marcelia snapped back to reality, her eyes open. She was sweating and shaking and close to tears. After that, she kept herself busy with work, not wanting to relive something that she relived every night in her dreams.
The rest of the day ticked on slowly. When the bell rang, Marcelia got up silently and slipped out of the room, walking through the hallway that she had walked with Drake, and out the door.
Then she ran.
She ran so fast home that it felt like her ribs were going to break. On the way, the tears flowed out and she couldn't stop them, she didn't want to stop them. When she got home, she was tired and couldn't cry anymore, her eyes red, cheeks wet. She went inside of the house, welcomed by the feeling of the anger that had taken over the household. Every since the accident, her parents had been fighting nonstop and Marcelia knew that it wouldn't be too long before her parents divorced. Secretly, she hoped for it. She ignored the screaming coming from the kitchen and went upstairs into her room. Throwing her bag against the wall, she turned on the radio. "Shattered" by Trading Yesterday started to play. Marcelia plopped face down on her bed. She listened to the lyrics closely.
And she started to cry
And she cried herself into a deep sleep, reliving the same dream that she did every night. The dream of Drake's death and how if she had done something different, it wouldn't have happened.
She blamed herself.
And others blamed her too.
Like she did every night.