I snap the sand covered twig violently before throwing it away. The words etched into the beach etch deep into my soul. Now I'm full of hurt, hatred. I'm boiling up, ready to burst. Luckily the air is cold and sharp, enough to keep me calm... for now. Enough to keep the heat at bay, and the remains of happiness glowing.
Next to my side is the tattered, black bucket I brought along. I pick it up and half run down to the icy sea water where I loose all feeling in my bare feet. The spits exhilarate me when they create contact with any uncovered skin. They make me forget about the people who care about all things wrong, and ignore all things right. The ones who keep telling me I'm changing in appearance, changing in personality.
But now I'm going to wash their words away - now I'm going to wash them away.
The water foams and bubbles up once I pour it onto my writing. While it's still wet and moist, I place the palms of my hands onto the surface, and brush away the text. With them, I create geometric shapes, swirls and curls... I relive the movement of the wind.
Before too long, the surface is completely dry, and my hands are plastered with thick clumps of sand, crumbling off in groups as I rub my fingers together forcefully. Once I've got as much off as I can, my skin's stained with a faint orange glow... they’re never going to leave me alone – I’ll be marked with the pain they give me forever.
'Hey, Abbie!' I hear it. I hear her voice - the one that pokes holes in my emotions. Instantly I regret looking up, for I see the false smile planted on her face - the one that fools all but me.
'It's, Addie...' I say as she draws nearer towards me.
'Oh please don't force that ridiculous name into my mouth!' Clara spits, fiddling with her gold studded necklace. She sighs, 'I'm sorry - I just really hate that name. Anyway, I came to apologise for the confrontation, we may have been a bit harsh,' the other three nod in synchronization, 'I hope we can still be great friends!'
'Yeah, sure...' I agree to keep things calm, and hope that she'll leave.
'Yay!' Relief runs through me when she begins to turn, but then she stops and I'm horrified. 'Really, Abbie?' I scream inside as Clara dramatically rolls her eyes, and pulls on a piece of my hair, rubbing the tips colored with black sharpie. 'Still? After everything we've said? You've lost your class Abbie! All these greys, and blacks...'
'Clara, you're wearing black!' I look at her leather skater skirt, and the black t-shirt tucked into it.
A groan escapes her lips, 'This is classy! You're just shabby with battered boots,' She bends down and picks up my shoes, containing my woollen socks, 'and tye dye tops,' Clara drops them in the wet sand, which hides the clothing, 'and honestly, Abbie you look like a real idiot in that oversized black coat.'
Walking away, I grab my belongings and try to forget they're there and everything said.
'You've changed in every way, Abbie! Oh sorry, I meant Addie!'