Butterfly

Chrysanthemum George (otherwise known as Chrys) is drowning in a world of self-harm, suicide and dark thoughts. Recovery has never been her plan but when a new face arrives on the scene will Chrys have any choice in the matter? A story about the darkness eating at a generation and the difficult route out of it.

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7. Chapter 2, Part 5

I roll my eyes under the duvet as they obviously take my silence completely the wrong way and choose to meander into my room. The corner of my bed creaks as they sit down on it. The duvet is torn away from my face with gusto and a large pillow is rammed down in my face before I’ve even managed to tell them to go away.

“Marcus, I’m trying to sleep here. That’s why my door was shut and I’m under my duvet.” I choke into the pillow.

“Oh, don’t be such a spoil sport, Chrys! Besides, I want to know how it went with Rita. Was she as orange and clueless as usual?” Marcus sniggers.

I pull the pillow from my face and smash him over the head with it, none too gently either. He laughs into the pillow before throwing it into the corner. He smiles as I pull the hood of my hoodie up and pull the drawstrings tight, leaving only my eyes visible.

“Weirdo.” He states.

“Freak.” I reply with a smile.

The smile falls away from his face though, and his mouth settles into a straight line as he folds his legs beneath him.

“But no, seriously, how did it go with Rita?” He asks.

I swallow and take a moment to fumble with the drawstrings of my hoodie as I consider my options. I’ve known him too long for him to not know when I’m lying. I bite my lip under my hoodie as I look him in the eye.

“It went great, actually! I mean, it was Rita so it would never be fantastic, plus guess what colours her nails were?” I grin.

“Purple?” He guesses.

“Honestly, Marcus! They were purple two weeks ago remember. Nope, they were, wait for it, wait for it…Pink! Pink. Ugh. Anyway, as I was saying, it wasn’t too bad. We did some brainstorms and lists on what’s going on and how I’m managing things and she seemed pleased and, yeah, that’s about it really. She thinks I’m a lot happier and I’m slowly getting better and for once she might actually be right.” I joke.

I feel a pang of guilt as a smile erupts over his face and his eyes light up. Of course I’m not happy and of course I’m not getting better. He doesn’t need to know that though. He quickly reaches out and pats me on the head before launching himself off my bed towards the door. He turns back when he reaches the door and with one last smile in my direction he departs, shutting the door behind him.

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