She was the girl who was afraid of love. Terrified of it. It isn't permanent, she believed, it leaves you and it leaves you broken.
He was the boy who desperately needed it. Love--the only thing that could've rooted him to this world.
Ophelia and...
“so this was how you died; in whispers that you did not hear.”
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I woke up at the shrill sound of an alarm.
Groaning, I did the first thing that came to my head. I flailed my arms around, trying to switch off the alarm, only to slump back when I found nothing but empty air.
Then groggily as I opened my eyes I realized that it couldn't have been my alarm because I never did alarms.
It took me a while to adjust my eyes to the morning sunlight and onto my flashing phone, which was ringing because someone was calling me, and not an alarm. I picked it up and answered the call without thinking twice (which, now that I think about it, could've been anyone).
Placing my phone over my ear, I shut my eyes once again. It was painful to keep my eyes open so early in the morning, even though I had spent most of yesterday sleeping and, well, sleeping.
"Hello?" I planted my face into my pillow, my voice muffling along with it.
"Morning, honey." I couldn't help but groan out loud when I realized it was Mum. Why was she calling so early? "Haven't talked in a while. How's everything going, sweetheart?"
"Mum," I whined. "I was asleep."
"Oh." She sounded like she was trying to hold back a laugh. Tell me what was so funny about ruining a seventeen-year-old's sleep, who also happened to be your daughter?
"Sorry, honey. I keep forgetting about the whole time thing. It just feels like you're here and not countries away, except that I'm talking to you on the phone. But it must not be so early in the morning, is it?"
"Yeah," I grumbled and curled up further under my duvet. "I think it's around noon here, but you know my sleeping schedule, Mum. It's fucked up." For one tiny second, I don't know why, I forgot this was my mother I was talking to.
"Language, Lia!" She sounded surprised, because yes, I never swore in front of my parents. But it didn't take her long to wave it off, probably because she must've thought that it slipped off my tongue. "Your dad's helping me out at the shop today. It would've been a lot more fun if you were here. Mase's missing you a lot too."
"Uh huh." I nodded absentmindedly.
"How's Luce doing?" She asked me. I could hear faint, shuffling noises on her end and I figured she must be wrapping up flowers for her daily customer bouquets. I never really understood the point of Mum working at that shop--a flower one especially--not when we weren't in desperate need of money. But she always told me that this shop was her family thing. Grandma worked there till she died. And like my grandma, Mum loved the shop too.
"Is she at home right now?" Mum asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Actually, no, not really. She's, um, at the apartment." But I'm not.
