The Writers discussion

The following chapter is kind of long lol. So if you decide to read it just be prepared. I honestly don't think anyone will though but like...... yeah. I don't know.

Also, the parts that are the story are bolded.

I look into my mirror, staring in disgust at my black dress. It hugs my body in all the wrong places, tighter at the waist. My long, straightened, brown hair hangs limply, unlike its usual curliness, pulled off my face by bobby pins. I move my gaze to my features, flinching at the ghost staring back at me. Red, sunken eyes with dark circles beneath them. Dry, cracked lips and my naturally tan skin paler than before. Mom would’ve hated to see me this way. I think to myself. As soon as I bring her into my mind I feel the gaping hole in my stomach grow and my eyes sting with tears. I hold them back. I have to stay strong. For Mamá.
As if reading my mind I hear a knock at the door. “Come in,” I croak. I clear my throat and try again, “come in,” The door creaks open. Mamá lets out a gasp when she sees me.
“Oh, Ally, you look so beautiful, sweetie. If only your mother was here to see you,” I give her a half smile, and try to ignore the pang of pain at those words. I brush past her, avoiding her eyes which I know are brimming with tears.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I mumble. I hear her about to say something but I briskly walk away from her and out to the car. Slamming the door shut.

The ceremony is a blur. Mamá goes up to recite her eulogy. A few people whisper when I don’t go up to speak afterwards and I slouch down in my chair, lowering my head, wishing for my sweatshirt. I just want this to be over as soon as possible. I don’t go up to the casket with everyone else, I just hang around in the back of the room. I don’t want to see my mom. It’s not her in that casket, it’s not my vibrant, optimistic, and beautiful mom. I don’t want my last memory of her to be a corpse, a cold, lifeless shell of what she used to be .
We go outside for the burial. It’s bright and sunny, it doesn’t fit the mood at all. I had protested when Mamá said we would have a burial. I couldn’t imagine my lively mother, trapped underground, surrounded by bugs, her body slowly decaying. If it was up to me she would have been cremated. We would have gone out to the ocean, her favorite place, and sprinkle her ashes into the air. She would be carried away by the wind, out across the ocean. She would be carried by the whims of nature. But of course, it was my grandparents and Mamá that chosen. Burial. She’ll just lie there, her corpse slowly decaying, bugs crawling on her and eating her flesh.
That can’t happen to her. My breath quickens. I watched them slowly lower her into the ground. Slowly, slowly, slowly. I can feel the bugs crawling on me. slowly, slowly, slowly. They bite me and pinch me, darkness tickles the edge of my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut. My breathing fast, my heart pounding and racing fast. Fast, fast, fast. I see my mom. In the ground. Bugs crawling over her lifeless, rotting, corpse. I shake my head, slowly backing away. I can’t do this.

My eyes dart around, looking at all the people. I trip on someone behind me. Are you ok? They ask. But their voice is far, far away. I stand up and spin around when I hear my Mamá’s voice. “It’s okay Ally, it’s ok.” she says to me. My name echoes through my ears. Ally, Ally, Ally. I shake my head, pain explodes throughout my head. It’s too much. It’s coming back. My mind amplifies everything. The sniffs, the coughs, the rustling, the footsteps. Too loud, everything’s too loud. I cup my hands to my ears trying to block out the noise, but the harder I press, the louder it gets. I try fighting it, I can’t think of this, not here, not now. But it’s persistent.
I turn abruptly and fall into a sprint, running away from the burial, the people, my moms. I can hear Mamá calling after me, but I ignore her and continue running.
I stop when I can no longer hear Mamá’s voice. Tears are streaming down my face, when did I start crying? I bury my head in my knees. My body shakes with sobs. I don’t even hear Mamá walk over to sit down beside me. She wraps her arms around me, hugging me close. I lean against her, burying my face into her shoulder.
“She gone,” I sob, “she’s really gone,” I don’t expect an answer, and she doesn’t give one. She just hugs me tight and I feel wet tears fall into my hair. We sit there like that. Hugging each other and crying in the annoyingly ironic sunny weather that doesn’t fit any of the feelings or events that’s happening.

We finally tear apart from each other and head home. The car ride is silent except for the radio blasting the newest Ariana Grande song out of the speakers. Mamá flips the radio off.
As soon as we get home I sprint to my room, closing and locking the door behind me. I throw myself on the bed, and curl into a ball, expecting to dissolve into tears again, but my sadness is spent.
I lay there like that for a while. I hear Mamá walk into the room and place something down, probably dinner. I don’t look up. She leaves, closing the door quietly behind her, I can hear her walking down the hallway to her room.
Finally I get up, feeling a deep hole inside me. I search for something to fill it, but there’s no more sadness, no more happiness, there’s nothing left but anger. Anger at the world, anger at mom, anger at Mamá, anger at me. I get off the bed and shove everything off my desk. I grab my lamp and slam it against the wall, hearing a crack as it breaks. I rip open my closet door and pull all my clothes off the hangers. All my stupid, girly, clothes that I hate. For every blouse, leggings, skirt, and dress I throw on the ground, the pressure inside me slowly lessens, like screwing the cap off a shaken up soda can.
I stop and take a deep breath. I look at the clothes on the ground, bundle them into my arms, walk out of my room to the trash bin outside and dump them all in. I run back to my room, still filled with bottled anger. I slam the door shut and grab scissors. I grasp a fistful of my long, tangled, dark brown hair, now curly again, and cut it off at my shoulders. I continue to cut it, shorter and shorter.

When I’m done I stare at myself in the mirror. My short curly hair sticks out in clumps, the left side a lot shorter than the right. With the tear streaked makeup from the funeral running down my face, matched with the crazy hair, anybody looking at me would think I’m insane. I don’t like seeing myself like this. I wipe my eyes, and clean the makeup off my face. I’ve always hated makeup anyway. I go to the bathroom and rummage through the cabinets and drawers. Finally I find what I’m looking for, barber scissors and clippers. My anger gone, I go back to my room and look up a few YouTube videos to straighten and smooth out my new haircut.
By the time I’m done I have an asymmetrical pixie, my curly hair draping a little past my cheekbone on the right, and the left being cut short. I put on jeans and pull a navy blue sweatshirt over my head and stare at myself in the mirror once more. I pull my curls on the right down a bit so they cover a section of my forehead and right eye. It’s still messy and obviously not done by a professional, but I like the little chunks that are out of place. It looks like me. I stare at myself a moment longer, feeling a warm sensation begin to spread through me. If I passed myself on the street, I wouldn’t be able to tell if I was a boy or girl. It's the first time my reflection shows how I feel inside. My face, contradicting recent events, begins to lift into a small smile.

I stand there for who knows how long. I look into my nearly empty closet. I had no clue I had so few androgynous and gender neutral clothes . I’ll have to try and convince Mom to take me shopping. Suddenly remembering what happened, my mind clouds over, my vision blurs, and I feel a lump form in my throat, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. No. I’m not doing this again. I’m not gonna cry again. So I blink my eyes quickly, clearing my vision and the lurking tears. I swallow the lump in my throat and lift my head higher. This time when I meet my usually soft, ocean blue eyes in the mirror they’ve hardened, like ice. I knew how it felt to lose someone close to me, it hurt, it made me cry, it made me weak. I clench my teeth and ball my hands into fists, hanging them at my side.
I turn quickly to walk downstairs, I can hear Mamá in her room, she’s sobbing. This is what happens when you let people in, they hurt you, no matter what. I soundlessly open the front door and close it quietly once I’m outside. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head to shelter myself from the sudden and unexpected rain. I’m buzzing with energy. I don’t know if it’s still left over from my anger, or if I’m just restless from sitting all day. Either way I run as fast as I can. I don’t know where I’m going, if I’m going anywhere at all. All I know is I need to get as far away from my house as possible.

Finally I stop, gasping for breath. My lungs burn and a headache is slowly spreading through my forehead. Against my will, my mind begins flipping through memories with Mom in them. As I remember her I feel one last tear leak out of my eyes and quickly wipe it away promising something to myself as I do. This is my last tear. I look around and see a little girl through a window playing with dolls on the floor. I find myself staring at her, I don’t know why, before looking away and beginning to walk back home. The rain patters my head, my hood having fallen off while running. As I creak open the door, being careful not to wake Mamá, who sobs had fallen silent, I think about the cause of our pain. We were sad, because we loved Mom, because we were close to her, we let her in. Right then I realize something. I let too many people in, I’m too trusting. Trust only leads to pain and anguish. So, right then I change my promise. This is my last tear. But I add something else. After thinking for a second I look out the window, at the night sky, and say it. This is the last time I trust someone. The last time I let them in. Disobeying my promise before, another tear slides down my cheek and I realize what I forgot to add last time. I wipe the tear away and begin walking to my room. This is my last tear….. forever.

((✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧Wow, that's is pretty awesome....I hope you post 2nd Ch. soon, I'm dying to know what happens next))

thank you! 🤗 I haven't started it yet, but I'm getting to it