For those who haven’t met August and Kensie yet, here is a look at the Prologue of Truth in Wildflowers. Enjoy 🙂
Blurred. Black, and grey, maybe some white, but mostly black. There’s a lot of black. My converse blur below me set amidst a pile of bottles on the dry dirt. I should have never come here. I‘m not blind to the power of this place. I didn’t flee here to find any peace in my hell. I came here to add to the flames. I didn’t care much for improving my mood. How could I? My mom told me to stay present. Whatever that means. She encouraged me to take the time I need to grieve, but that people needed me. I call bullshit. The one whom truly ever needed me isn’t here. No one needs me. I don’t even need myself. What good is a guy who can’t save the people he loves? I failed her.
“Dude.” Wes’s shoes crunched up the path behind me. “The dirt field and that six hundred and seventy two pack treating you alright?” He sat down beside me on the bench and patted my shoulder causing my limp body to sway.
“No.” I shrugged my shoulders at him. Getting drunk sounded like a fantastic idea when the service ended, now not so much. I still remembered it all. I still felt it all. Only now my singed soul blurred a little to the left.
I held my shit together since the night of the accident trying to be the strong one. Spouting words of consolation and promising some sick divine plan in this hell. The moment the casket descended into the ground and disappeared in the grass that façade crumbled. My lungs collapsed with my heart folding in on itself. I suffocated on my grief. Thick dark hands enveloped my throat and squeezed tight until my eyes watered. The bastard choked any purpose of living out of me.
“I’m not sure what to say here.” Wes held out a pack of gummy bears, but I declined.
“Nothing.” I preferred the silence. I liked being wrapped in the isolation more than token words of sympathy. Sorry? The word and the lowered eyes accompanying it made my stomach churn. I’m not deserving of compassion or hope to heal. What I deserve, is to feel the bone crushing pain to remind me of how I fucked up.
The weather at the service was abnormally windy. The scent of freshly cut grass mixed with cheap cologne assaulted me with blow after blow. Life. I fled. Familiar voices rapped in the wind at my back, but I didn’t stop. I ran until I reached the stagnant space of my car where the wind couldn’t pummel me and the grass couldn’t nauseate me. I yearned to be roused from my nightmare. I needed to wake up to the hillside covered in color and life, but when I got here I received a sucker punch in the form of dirt, miles and miles of dirt. No color, and no life.
We sat in uncomfortable silence when Wes leaned down to the rocky soil below us. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him twirling a dandelion in his fingers. I chanced a glance at the flower and followed its fluttered decent to the ground as his fingers let go.
“Come on.” Wes stood up and dusted off his black pants. He looked ridiculous in them. He shouldn’t have dressed up. I didn’t. “I’m going to go find a trash can for all these.“ He kicked a glass bottle. The empty vessel rolled across the dirt until it was stopped abruptly by a rock. “Then I’m taking you home.”
“I can’t go home.” I couldn’t face any reminders of my life being taken away. My entire life gone, but I was still living. The twisted world cursed me.
“Alright dude,” Wes said. “You can crash with me as long as you need too, but we need to get out of here. We are taking this day by day, and this day is about done.” He cocked his head towards the sun beginning its decent below the hill.
I nodded and stood up on swaying legs, but only because I had to piss. Days, the beginnings, the ends, the in-betweens, they didn’t mean anything to me anymore. The days were just heartless bastards.