L O V I N G
L A K Y N
I DON'T KNOW what is more pathetic. The fact that people videoed Eden and I arguing, or the fact that people actually find it amusing.
I do not by any means like the girl, but as weak as I feel for admitting this, a very minor tiny little speck of my cold selfish heart feels sympathetic. I just want everyone to get over it, already. It isn't humorous. It's the new girl with a see-through shirt and lettuce tainting her button-up. Like, seriously, grow up.
Hale told the team that if they see the video being shared around, do not comment or share it. Lakyn punched a guy for calling her a slut and Blaire, she hasn't put in an effort, but Hale, Lakyn and I have all been trying to stop the circulation.
We all may seem like a group of troubled adolescents with severe trauma (some more than others) and issues with being nice unless there is a double-sided reason, but we can be considerate when we want too, it's a rare case, but it happens.
As I walked through the halls of the school, I headed towards my locker, putting in my combination before grabbing out a textbook and notebook for my first lesson after homeroom, being Math—most people's least favorite subject, including myself—then closing my locker, slamming it shut causing it to echo throughout the hall.
My phone began to vibrate in my bag, signaling an incoming call. Assuming it was rather Blaire or Hale, I reached into my bag quickly, pulling it out, but when seeing the caller's information, I froze.
"Franklin county rehab center" the title read in bold white letters.
Without a second thought, I swiped across answering the call before bringing my phone to my ear, leaning my back against my locker, thankfully that there were barely any other students in the corridor as it was relatively early still and most people sit out the front of the building before class begins.
"Mother?" I asked, my voice shaky as breathed into the phone.
I heard a shuffling behind the phone before someone cleared their phone, "Hi, my flower." she greeted, the sound of her voice making my body go into lockdown.
It has been so long since I have heard from her. Too long.
That nickname, my flower. She has called me it ever since I can remember. It's ironic, how mom calls me flower, Lakyn calls me Violet and Hale calls me purple. But for mom, she named me Lila for the reason being it was simply her favorite flower and they symbolize purity and innocence, violet ones specifically portray spirituality.
She thought it fit, considering I was once so pure. Mother would always rave on about how pure I look with my pale skin, doe eyes and 'gorgeous' large smile, as she stated. She thought that giving me a name of which portrays innocence, that I'd actually remain innocent, unlike her.
"Mom. . ." I whispered, still shocked by her call, "I have missed you."
I could tell she was smiling beyond the phone, I knew her too well, "I've missed you so much, I promise I'll be home soon."
My eyes widened, "When?" I asked, my voice portraying extreme excitement.
"My doctor said that I should be fit to come home in time for your birthday."
I grinned ear to ear. April third. Just over a month from now.
"Will it be permanent this time?" I asked nervously, mainly because I always know that nothing with my mother is permanent, she is the pure definition of unreliable and temporary, but I still love her nonetheless.
There was a silent moment filled with hesitance before she responded, "I've been on an intense detox, Lila." she answered, disregarding the question.
I rolled my eyes, "Is that why you haven't called in so long?" I questioned, my voice becoming lower.
Her calls used to be fortnightly, and if it wasn't her calling, it was her doctor with updates, but the past few, I haven't heard a thing which was worrying both my father and I. We thought maybe something had happened, but obviously she isn't easily fixable.
"Yes, flower." mother sighed, "I am so sorry, but it's been rough. They've drained me of everything entirely, I'm constantly shaking, I can barely eat. I've been vomiting, sweating."
My heart sunk. I know withdrawal symptoms are intense and extremely hard to get through. I just hate that my mother has to experience it, but it is no one's fault as mean as that sounds.
"How's your father?" she asked, changing the subject seeing as I didn't have anything to say.
I rolled my eyes at the mention of him. How is he? He's controlling, he works a lot and when he isn't, he's indirectly judging my weight—which isn't that bad—or telling me what to do, going on about Yale and how admissions are due. He's bitter, cold and heartless, the only microscopic part of his heart beats for her, my mom. For me, it aches with regret.
I couldn't tell my drug-addicted and alcoholic mother in recovery that. That would be stupid, so instead, I said:
"He's been great, working hard as always." I tried to sound convincing, and for the most part, I think I succeeded, I always do.
There is no better liar than myself. I can spin a story without a mere thought and make it believable.
"How about Hale? Are you two still close?"
I nodded, smiling at the mention of his name, "Of course."
"And Lakyn? Do you still hate him?" she asked with a laugh, "And Blaire?"
I laughed in response as well, "Yes, mother. I still hate that boy with every cell of my being." I heard her chuckle, "And Blaire and I are still. . .friends, but she still annoys me."
"That's great. . .look, I've got to go now, but I just wanted you to know that I love you and I'm sorry, okay. I know I keep messing up and—"
Tears welled in my eyes and in that moment, I cut her off immediately, "Mother, it's fine."
My mother is my one and only weakness. She makes me hurt and ache, yet laugh and smile. She is the only reason I haven't ended it yet, she's almost nonexistent from my life and always has been, but other than the moments where I am finding her lifeless body on a cold tiled floor, I am with her talking and gossiping.
I just wish she could go back to how she was when I was first born, working on her own editing company, cooking miserably in the kitchen or laying on my bed with me.
Unfortunately, we never had typical mother-daughter memories like going to the park and going on picnics or watching barbie movies together because my father has always been a hard case, but the mere memories I do have with her—though they are extremely vague at this point—are enough to last a lifetime.
"You're better now," I said, but I don't know whom I was reassuring, me or her. "aren't you?"
She was quiet, awfully quiet until the bell sounded which seemed to bring her attention back, "Yes," she cleared her throat, "all fixed, now I better get going."
I nodded before realizing she couldn't see me, so I then said: "Okay, b-bye mom." I croaked, my voice sounding disgustingly vulnerable and weak, it made me want to hurl.
"Love you." were her last word before the line went dead and I was left in a pool of my own self-pity.
And just like that, my emotions were flicked like a light switch. I felt the coldness around my heart deteriorate like an ice-block would on a hot summer's day. My faux smile dropped, my tear ducts seeped with water and my heart began to beat rapidly.
Anxiety is an illness every breathing being contains. Some experience it in mere yet still entirely valid ways such as not speaking confidently or rethinking every occurrence whereas others experience it by isolating themselves, not taking care of themselves, like Eden had the other day which is how I noticed she was going through something.
But for me. My anxiety symptoms mimic a complete breakdown one would experience after a loved one dies. My heart races, my palms sweat and I feel as though I can't breathe when in reality I am breathing so rapidly and vast that I am choking on my own air. My mind swirls, my gut fills with a sickening feeling and every problem I have ever experienced in my life comes back to haunt me.
My mother isn't dead and sometimes I convince myself that she is, so that I do not have to believe she isn't the same anymore. But it's ironic, isn't it?
She practically is dead. She is only truly alive in the presence of satanic drugs, she is a living, walking ship headed straight into an iceberg named substance abuse.
I love her with my whole heart, but it gets hard. Having your birth giver, your—what should be—biggest influence, the person you thrive to be, in a pale small room with a strict diet and constant supervision. Yes, it is what she needs.
But I'm here.
I am living in this big mansion all alone, I'm scared. She has made me feel as though everyone is just some charity case, she has made me feel on constant edge because I do not know when the next time, I'll find her overdosed on the bathroom floor again. I don't know if she'll make it.
It is so difficult having someone half there. Someone in the space between living and dead, like limbo, the middle of heaven and hell.
I feel the need to say that she is a good mom and that everything will be okay, like what Hale tells me. But those both are invalid. If I am being completely honest, she isn't a good mother, she's barely a part of my life and her actions inflict miserability on her loved ones.
Deep deep down, I love my father, but I do not want to end up with just him. The past seventeen years of mother being in and out of rehab have been miserable, I just want her home for good. Forever.
I gasped for air, like a fish out of water, my books plummeting onto the ground as my vision blurred. I fell to the ground, one of my nails undoubtedly snapping, causing me to cringe as I held myself up on all fours, looking like a complete animal as I shook and cried.
I blinked rapidly, searching the halls for any signs of company, and thankfully, considering the bell had rung, there was none. Not a single soul.
I rested my back against the cold metal lockers behind me, hugging my knees to my chest, as I focused on my breathing.
One.
Two.
Three.
Fou—
"Lila?"
My eyes snapped open as my breathing carried on like choked up child, "J-Just walk away." I managed to get out, but barely, "Pr-Pretend you didn't s-see me."
Lakyn sighed, staring down at me with an unreadable expression. He is always blank, he is like me in that aspect, his walls are built up higher than the Eiffel tower, they're too tall to climb without falling and breaking yourself in the process.
"Are you like. . ." he paused, staring at me with slight disgust, "crying?"
Yes, dickhead, I felt like saying. But crude remarks weren't available in Lila-land right now.
"If that is your weird way of asking if I am okay, then yes, Lakyn." I forced out, "I am fine, now leave."
My tone was pleading, begging. It scared me because I never beg, I never plead and I never cry. Usually, I am great with withholding my emotions, especially at school, but after months of not knowing my mother's progress and finally finding out—though it wasn't exactly bad—it has triggered that last tiny bit of life within me.
Generally, my emotion system resembles a vampire. It sounds obscure, but like them, I can flick my humanity off without another thought and then. . .pure bliss, pure blissful nothingness.
But today, I need a moment. A moment to feel, to hurt and ache, even though I do not want to in the slightest.
I sobbed after moments of silence, thinking that Lakyn had left me to be in my pool of anxiety, but he never was one to listen, Lakyn has his own rules and regulations and he sticks to them. . .sometimes.
"Um," he cleared his throat as he sat down on the tile next to me, leaving a slight amount of distance, "Vi?"
I ignored him.
Please leave, Lakyn. I wanted to beg, your presence is making me feel weak.
"Listen." he murmured, but I chose not too.
Before I was only having an anxiety attack because of my mother, but now I am shaking due to his presence. Sadness is not something I have ever let anyone see (other than Hale once or twice) and I would rather befriend Eden rather than show emotion in front of someone, and that is saying something.
"Listen." he repeated more sternly this time, shifting his body so that he was knelt down in front of me, "Listen to my voice."
I did as he said, for once. I listened.
His large hands encircled around my wrists, tugging them away from my face, exposing my tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
His icy orbs bored into mine, "Breathe." he instructed.
"I-I'm trying."
He nodded, "Good girl." he encouraged, "Tell me what you're grateful for."
I stared at him strangely, daring to question him but then I realize that would just elongate our conversation, "I am gr-grateful for my mom." even though I do not show it, "I am grateful for Hale, for my shoes a-and bags, I am grateful for going to a private school and having a nice home."
I wasn't sure of the purpose of this activity, but I was slowly becoming more okay, whatever okay is.
Lakyn nodded once again, "You just gave yourself six reasons to keep breathing, even when your body wants otherwise."
I came to a realization. That is why we are doing this.
I nodded, attempting to pull myself off the ground. I am no doubt at least twenty minutes late for my first class, father will kill me if the academy contacts him in regards to my short-lived absence.
Lakyn warily and extremely hesitantly, helping me stand properly as my legs were still shaky, before he took a step back, keeping his distance, which I was more than fine with.
When I looked up at him in all his blonde-headed-blue-eyed glory, I was shameful as he stared at me like I was some sick puppy that he just saved. I do not need to be saved and certinately not by Lakyn Westbrook, he'll just gloat and tell his friends how pathetic and stupid I am.
"Okay, I'm fine." I forced a smile, dusting myself off, "Now, I have class, so run along."
He furrowed his eyebrows, "What?"
I stared at him dumbly, "What?" I asked, stepping closer as I held my pointed finger to his chest, "You couldn't seriously think that I'd fall for your game, right?"
"What game?" Lakyn questioned.
I snorted, "The one where you pretend to care about me for five minutes, so that you can go relish in the fact that you got to see me cry."
Lakyn snorted, "You really are fucked up," he retorted.
I grinned, "Aren't we all?" I asked obviously, "Oh, and that whole incident was just an act."
He chuckled backing me up against the locker with little to no distance between us, his lips inches away from mine, "You can't fake an anxiety attack, sweetheart." he murmured, "you're broken, just like I am, and now I can prove it."
***
Hi everyone!
So I don't know if you have noticed but updating three times a week is the new schedule and I'm feeling good about it, though lately two of those three updates have been for my other book which is almost finished 🥺 but I can't wait to be able to focus entirely on this book as well as another one hehe.
Please let me know what your thoughts are on Lila as the story progresses. This filler was mainly structured to portray the kind side of her, of which only her mother really sees. The only person she has ever loved is also the cause for most of her heartbreak.
Anyways, please remember to vote and comment as well as follow me if you'd like 🤍
See you soon,
I love you.