Page 37 of Petals of Blue: Part One
I've heard that word many times in my life, often from other kids at school. I was the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. My nice jeans and pretty sweaters disappeared pretty quickly after I moved in with Aunt Linda.
God, I remember asking her where my stuff was. She pointed to a closet where I found dirty, ripped clothes that never kept me warm.
I made it through. At the age of six, I didn't know much beyond how much I missed my parents. Consumed by confusion, I just kept moving through school and getting my chores done. At that time I didn't much care about Linda's string of boyfriends.
I was uncomfortable, sure, but my parents' death led my emotions for a long time.
Until decent neighbors asked me to mow their lawn or shovel their driveways for some cash. As a preteen who was starting to realize how differently I dressed than other people, I jumped at the opportunity to buy myself new things.
I learned very quickly that I had to hide my nice stuff. Aunt Linda was a money-hungry bitch.
Still is.
Slowly but surely, I changed my image and my attitude. The pain of losing my two favorite people faded to a dull ache in my chest, but I blocked it out with a few bricks here and there.
Those bricks were the changes I made myself. My clothes, styling my hair, talking to new people, excelling in classes. I rewrote myself one piece of armor at a time.
Everyone forgot I was an orphan with a drug addict guardian who rarely fed me. I worked for every fucking ounce of happiness I had. The guys were drawn to the bubbly girl I had built myself up to be. It didn't take long for them to peek behind the wall I was steadily building around my sadness.
After many lighthearted conversations in the hallway, then meeting Roman and Felix, I allowed the gaps in my armor to shine with the endless pool of tears I had been drowning in since I was six years old.
Now? A moment of physical pain weakens that brick wall I've perfected. Over the years I've learned whom and how to trust. Declan, Roman, Felix, and Jared were on the strictnotrespassinglist right up until they showed me one singular fucking moment of care.
Just one.
A gentle touch, kind words, and worried eyes are my undoing.
One by one, bricks fall and break into pieces. One layer of mascara, a swipe of eyeliner, and a stroke of red lipstick at a time...Blue reveals her meaning.
Blue is the color of a bruise after a day or two.
Blue means sadness.
Blue relates to detachment and distance.
On a soul-deep level, I am all of those things. I am bruised. Sad. I am detached.
Everything I don't want to be but am, comes rushing to the surface in a wave that bellowssave me.
Someone please save me because, goddamn it, Ihurt.
Twenty-Four
DECLAN
There's nothing like the terrifying moment of a very large man hurting my girl to sober me right up. Fighting against the effects of alcohol was absolutely fucking awful.
I hated myself for tripping over my feet and swaying just enough to be shoved back. My God, I could have saved Blue from that asshole if I hadn't drunk so much.
Half stumbling with Jared to the back room where Felix disappeared into sucked too. The world kept tilting and turning. No matter how much I wanted to function properly, my body was hammered.
My mind felt sluggish too as I tried to comprehend the employee lounge. Confused and a little lost, I try to catch up with Felix and Blue's conversation.
Then Blue burst into tears at the sight of Jared. Every single instinct to help her and protect her fires on, burning the toxins from my mind.
Felix is there first. As much as I feel the gut-curling need to scoop her onto my lap, I'm too far away. The man I love gets her instead.
Jared and I both step forward when Blue all but foldsherself in half, but we stop when Felix stands and shuffles her around on the couch. My heart clenches at the sight of Blue curled into Felix's side with her head on his chest. Toned legs are thrown over his right leg, and white Vans are tucked under his left.
