The Fighter - Zayn Malik Featuring

The Fighter

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I hated winter.

My frail fingers shook as I traced the photo of Amelia's face. She was in her breezy peach floral top and light shorts, her chocolate shaded hair whipping up in the salty beach wind. She was laughing uncontrollably, her arms around my other friends, Jenny, Tash and Azure, all squealing in delight as they got wet from the spray of the foamy Summer waves. Little did Amelia know that in several warm days she would be swallowed by that same beach. Little did she know that in that same Summer, she would die.

A tear escaped my eye and fell onto the photo as I gently placed the frame in the exact position when Mum came into my room. With shock from Mum entering, I lost grip of the photo frame of Amelia in the last days of her life, and it fell to the floor and shattered into a million fragments. Mum gasped as my heart skipped a beat. I bent down in tears, lifting the photo from the shards of glass. 

"Skye, darling, I'm so sorry, I should've knocked." 

Mum pulled me into a hug as tears escaped my eyes. I was such a baby. I pulled away, grabbed my school bag and left without a word.

I stood at the bus stop, in the misty Winter morning. It was just the start of winter, the most depressing season, but still on the edge of Autumn or Fall, when Amelia's funeral was held. What hurt was that no one had even found her body, it was still drifting in the rough waves at the beach I used to love. Until that afternoon. The afternoon she had died. 

I shook my awful thoughts away. Stepping into the bus, everyone stared at me, whispers and gossip spreading at the speed of light. I sat alone at the front, my forehead pressed on the foggy glass to keep me alive. The sharp pain in my heart piercing my thoughts. 

After Amelia died everything changed. Jenny, Tash, Azure and a whole bunch of other friends had either left me or left Wishleburg. School was just a blur, a thick haze of nothing. All sounds and colour blocked out, I was numb and immune. I was not used to solitude, but I preffered it now. I used to go back behind our shed at home to the broken truck and lie under the Cherry Blossom tree for hours, gazing into the endless blue sky, but now I did not dare even look at it. 

"Skye, what is this, what is the point of your existence if you are not stable enough to move on!"

Miss Hattwell cried in Humanities class. That's what I want to know, I thought as I snapped into reality. 

"Now you are just using Amelia's death as an excuse to be sluggish and pointless. I tell you to write about the Geographical terms your have learnt in the past term however you hand me a blank paper! Move on child! Amelia is gone!" She yelled in front of the entire class. Other teachers acknowledged my hardship, but Miss Hattwell was not the soft type. I stood up with my bag.

"Do you even care? Have you ever felt love or care for anyone before? Do you even know what it feels like to lose everything in just over a month? I guess not." I had never spoken so rudely to teachers before, but I didn't care.

I ran out of the school building from the back, and ran as fast as my legs could take me.

I loved to run. Running made me feel free and boundless. I was breathless, but I didn't stop. I hated winter. I hated everything about Winter. Of solitude, hardship and loss. It began to rain, but I didn't care. I wanted to run so fast, to run so hard and so passionately that my legs would flutter in the breeze and I would be lifted into the air. I wanted to leave. I wanted to go.

When I arrived home, my legs were numb and painful from the cold and Mum was at work. I fell into bed. Dad had left us to move away to Canada, and he forcefully took George, my four year old brother with him. Though George was annoying, I wanted him back. Mum had cried for weeks and I was frozen in shock as they only left a week after Amelia died. George had drawn stick figures beside my bed with markers that I gazed at for days after they left. He was such a submissive, optimistic child. I burried my face in the pillow as Scotch came into my room, his tail wagging cheerfully.

When I woke up, it was early in the morning. Had I slept that long, all through yesterday and last night? I stumbled up before the mirror, deep purple bags under my almond shaped eyes. I let out my hair and began to brush it for the first time in days. It was usually admired for its long lasting silkiness. I sighed as I thought of Amelia. Why couldn't I have died? It would have been so much easier.

I ran the brush through my hair, surprised at how many knots where tangled in it. As I tried to untangle it, tears sprang to my eyes in pain. I brushed so violently hair snapped off my scalp painfully and my face was stained in tears. I screamed slightly, annoyed. I opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors. 

With one swift move, I cut my long chestnut hair to my shoulders in pain, not caring anymore. Scotch came in, barking softly. I had forgotten to feed him for so long. I knelt down and hugged him, his soft fur and wet nose a sign of affection. He stared at the pile of hair on the floor, and looked up curiously at me. He probably thought I had gone crazy.

Maybe I had.

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MAJOR ZAYNNESS COMING UP >>>>>>>>>>>>>