Trying To Endure

Chapter Twelve

Brief, spiritual references. 

Again, please be respectful and just skip the parts. 

Also, thank you to everyone who is reading so far! :)

🌺 

April Levesque

I washed my face three times in icy-cold water and applied a faint touch of concealer and blush to eradicate the puffiness. Downstairs, it is Ethan's speech. Honestly, memorials are nice in terms of memories, yet that's what makes them so solemn.

Mr Whiskey in my arms, I sit on the fourth-stair down. Fairy lights adorn the entrance hall, flaring from one colour to another. The walls are lined with frames: Mike earning his badge to mark his official involvement; another of Ethan and me standing with Mike's arms around us in his uniform. His cordiality and objective outlooks were what made him an outsider in this world. He was too good to be a part of us — a lightworker in the wrong dimension, in the right dimension.

Mr Whiskey meows, his whiskers tickling my chin. My fingers fondle the golden heart pendant — Mike's gift for my fourteenth birthday. He gave it to me so I know that I'm never alone because, at that time, I was teased a lot for being skinny and 'flat'. A loss is not the sole explanation for this sudden misery.

Mike was a parent to Ethan and me. I suppose most older siblings are. I peculiarly had a lot of hate during secondary — no explanations. Sometimes I walked home silent and tip-toed to my room without a word, and cried into my pillows.

'April?' We were home alone. Ethan was with his friends in the garden. I was fourteen. Mike was twenty-two, returned from University, finished his course in teaching. 'Can I come in?'

Sentimental talks are medicine.

I withered off my bed and opened the door. In a grey short-sleeved tank top and tracksuit bottoms, he was not as heavily designed as his best friend. A diminutive Crucifix Cross on his spine. Laurel tattoos contoured his hewed collarbone. Kaison's name on his heart and his birthdate, Makayla's on his left hip. His left arm: scorpion, roman numerals, biblical texts. Right hand: a hummingbird. A Crucifix Cross-chain locked his strong neck. Obviously, he was incredibly spiritual.

He took in my reddened cheeks and puffy eyes. 'What happened?'

I wrapped my arms around his waist. He hugged me back, closed the door. Sat on the bed, I told him what was going on: girls made a group chat to diss me, degrade me. Beneath the freckled lustre, his browns divinely twinkled. 'You want to tell a teacher?'

I shook my head. 'I just wanted to talk to someone.'

He wiped my eyes, understanding. 'These things happen.'

'Why? I never did anything.'

'Bad things happen to the good all the time. People will do the shittiest things for no reason. All you have to do is never believe a single word those girls say, alright?'

'It's hard not to.'

'I know,' he said softly. 'I know. But if you smartly discipline yourself to ignore them, if you act like they do not bother you, it won't be hard.' He tapped my head. 'Fake it till you make it, Little Sis. Instead of focusing on those crappy girls, focus on who makes you smile. And you don't ever let people break you, you hear me? You're stronger than that.'

"So that's your grandpa's cat." I startle awake from the flashback, glancing sideways at a six-foot-tall, stalwart shadow of broad shoulders. "The sweetest fluffy thing I could ever meet."