Sunflowers

*two*

The coolness of Linnea's down comforter enveloped her in a sea of darkness from which she never planned to escape. She didn't care that her hair had taken on a mind of its own, matted and scattered and gross, because nobody had to see her like this.

Thank god for being homeschooled.

Thank god for not having any friends.

     She knew fair well that the sun was probably shining through her window. She could picture the way her white-and-teal chevron curtains lilted in the morning breeze...but she really didn't want to.

     She had not-so-accidentally forgotten to set her alarm for the fifth week in a row. She would get up when she had some semblance of motivation to face the world. To deal with people. Most people were villains disguised as princes - picky and shady and coldhearted, but everyone just ogled at the faux jewelry that glistened off each other's necks.

        And was that really worth it?

        Creeeak.

        Oh no.

        Footsteps.

         Please, please, no-

         "Linnea!"

         Damn it.

"Get up! You can't wallow in this pit of negativity forever!"

"Go away, Kathleen," she hissed.

Her older stepsister was the only one Linnea could talk to, but that didn't mean anything. It's not like Linnea trusted her enough to divulge anything worth sorting out. Sure, Kathleen had been in Linnea's life for five years, but that didn't grant them any progress.

"You have schoolwork to do," Kathleen said, resting her hand on her hip. "Mom wants me to get through to you or whatever. So, if you get expelled, I'm gonna get the full force of her temper tantrum. Get up. I don't want to feel guilty for something you did. It's not my fault you're too sensitive to find people who like you."

Sensitive.

Linnea hated that word. She also hated how Kathleen sounded just like her mother - well, Linnea's stepmother.

Linnea was not sensitive. Not anymore. That was only how she got hurt in the past.

"Kathleen-" she thrived at the huff of annoyance that sounded from her stepsister. Linnea knew fair well that Kathleen was her stepsister's middle name - and Kathleen hated it.

"I can do whatever I want," Linnea persisted.

"No, actually, you can't. Are you getting up or not?"

"Go to hell, Kathleen."

"I'm pretty sure we already live there," Kathleen muttered.

Linnea stayed silent. Internally, deep deep down, past all the iron reinforcements that caged up her emotions, she felt a pang of guilt. Kathleen tried. Kathleen made an effort. Something Linnea would not have done.

Linnea glanced up at her sister. They looked nothing like each other. Linnea was short, with a round face and a round stomach, while Kathleen was tall and overly skinny. Linnea had dirty blonde hair and ordinary hazel eyes. Kathleen was your classic pale, freckly ginger, with dark eyes the color of whiskey.

Those same eyes softened the tiniest bit. "Listen, I know you're going through a tough time," Kathleen said, sitting down on the edge of Linnea's bed and sinking down into the powder-blue comforter. "I know you're feeling defeated. I know you don't know how to move on, I know this past week finally did you in, I know you didn't have a plan B, but...you can only help yourself. Mom can't help you. I can't help you. And it starts with one day. It starts with getting up one morning. It starts with one shower, one deep breath, one...whatever. Baby steps. Okay?"

Linnea didn't respond. The warmth of her comforter was tempting her to sink back in. She buried her head into the pillow, although Kathleen's words still stirred in her mind.

At long last, Linnea heard footsteps retreating against the carpet. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and blinked her eyes.

Linnea rolled over and rubbed her eyes. She was already awake, and already out from her bat cave - no turning back now. She checked her phone. One email from a theatre company. She starred it. She'd look at it later.

The sun seared through her eyes, and Linnea was tempted to hiss as if she were some vampire emerging from its crypt. When her bare feet met the carpet and she sat upright, her head spun as if it had been exposed to a tornado. Ugh. Waking up was the worst part of the day.

It was obvious that Linnea wasn't happy. But there was one thing that did make her happy.

Acting was her refuge. The stagelights urged her on, and she continued to crave that high she felt when she stepped in front of an audience and masked on a smile. The performing arts were the only thing that tempted Linnea to even chance opening her closed-off heart to the world. When Teagan's contagious enthusiasm had roped her in like a siren's call, Linnea couldn't turn away. After all, her friend had kept that sweet mind-controlling smile of hers for as long as their friendship had lasted.

And whenever Linnea wasn't onstage, it was all she could do not to collapse.

She curled up in the dark sanctity of her room, tucking her legs to her chest and her forehead to her knees. One shower, one deep breath, one...whatever. As much as she hated Kathleen, she'd take what she could get.

Okay.

Let's go.

~

I love you.

You promise?

Always. Whether it be the stars in your eyes or the music that beats within your heart...you're stuck with me.

Why did showers always tend to stir up the worst memories?

The steam from the warm water still lingered, providing even more warmth to the already hot day as Linnea ruffled her sopping wet hair with a towel. Rushing to her room, she finally checked her phone, allowing all those icky thoughts to clear away with the cloud of steam.

Hm. A new theatre group, just starting out. Another musical. Linnea typed in her name, entering the classic, intoning interest email. Sent.

She sighed softly and glanced around her room. It was a burst of everything she was, every bit of emotion she had salvaged from...before. Pictures of her grinning, wrapped in the arms of people who were all taller than her. Faerie lights, a full-length mirror, the corners of which were plastered with sticky notes that Cailean's friend had scrawled out for her - little affirmations that made the sun shine a little brighter. One wall of her room had been painted pink from when she was an impulsive six-year-old. The room was her oasis, her tiny little corner where her mask could come off.

Maybe that shower did her some good. She felt more mindful. And that was nice. Sometimes.

Maybe...

Linnea's eyes fell onto her laptop, gleaming silver in the sun that poured through the window. That was her school.

Online school had never been a big thing. She had been made fun of for being homeschooled her entire life, but that ultimately just contributed to Linnea locking herself up from the rest of the harsh words and actions. She found a way to protect herself.

She knew what she would be met with if she opened her laptop. Each course had a proposed completion date and an estimated completion date - the latter of which were months off from the former. Linnea had not done schoolwork in two weeks, ignoring all the canned emails that nagged her to submit work. She was a fair student - or she would be, if she would actually do the assignments.

One shower, one deep breath.

One assignment. One measly little history quiz. One lesson, even.

Linnea walked over and sat herself down in the swivel chair at her desk. Pens and pencils scattered the surface, piles of sticky pads, two or three rulers, and bags upon bags of eraser caps from when she'd been that bright-eyed, overachieving freshman. Not anymore.

She opened her laptop.

Maybe today would be one of the better days.