Dear Stanley [Watty's 2019. Completed]

Waterfall

Sunday, March 18

Dear Stanley,

The bruise on my cheek is a dark ugly purple color, and it hurts every-time it makes even the slightest contact with anything. It's so obvious I was slapped, there are fingerprints where Moms hand struck my face. I think I'll need to make up a convincing excuse for the teachers at school tomorrow. The students probably won't care, or they'll make fun of me. Nothing I'm not used to.

And then I remember Breeze. She sits right next to me, of course she will notice this. What will she do? Will she pretend I don't exist, the big noticeable bruise doesn't exist? Or will she ask me what happened, with genuine care in her eyes?

I scoff to myself, I've never cared on how someone was going to react to me before. But I guess I've already established to you, Breeze is just something else.

I need to give my mind a break. I feel the itch to escape, the desire to flee the boundaries of my home. I was debating on weather or not I should got out for a walk. The sunlight filtering in through my window looked golden and soft, like butter.

I knew Mom and Dad weren't home because I heard the door open and slam shut twice somewhere early in the morning in my sleep-induced haze. I don't know where they went, they always seem to be out now. And frankly, I don't really care.

Don't get me wrong, Stanley, I used to care a lot, used to always wonder why they weren't spending time with me after you left.

But now I'm getting used to being alone. It's my normal now. Having my parents around now would be like having a snowstorm during summer, unexpected, unwanted, and stupid. I'd feel as if I was being smothered.

Not to mention, the way Mom shattered my heart and betrayed me is something I can't easily forget and look pass. It's like a heavy burden crushing me, but I'm too weak to push it off.

I decided to go for a walk to avoid feeling sorry for myself today, so I got ready and pulled on a plain t-shirt with jeans. After skipping downstairs and grabbing an apple for a quick breakfast, I excitedly stepped out the door, breathing in the delicious fresh air.

But then my head started to throb gently. I saw bright flashes of something Stanley, I can't describe it, but it was trying to tell me something. And then all of a sudden, a memory rushed into my mind, so strong and reckless, I had to collapse on the ground right where I was (our front yard) in order to relive it.

I remember you and me used to have a secret spot. It was our place, no one else knew about it. This memory was the first day you introduced me to that spot, I think Stanley.

It was 5 years ago. I was a 4th grader. You were a 7th grader.

The day was crisp and chilly, crunchy autumn leaves crackled underneath our footsteps. We had the bitter-sweet hot chocolate that you were an expert at making in a white mug in our hands.

We were just walking around the town for a bit, when you turned to me, an excited gleam in your eye. We were standing in the middle of a field by an old barn. Horses were grazing in the distance.

"Wanna see something cool?" You offered. Your voice was smooth yet childish, and I knew whatever you wanted to show me was going to be good.

Of course, I nodded my head eagerly. If my older brother Stanley wanted to do something with me, I'd do it, no matter what.

You smiled and ruffled my hair at my response before walking deeper into the luscious green field, towards an old dead wood. I skipped behind you, trying to keep up with your long strides, my chest puffed out with adrenaline.