Page 4 of Indigo

It’ll be all new, and that’s terrifying.

“You, my girl, are going to do incredible things, and I will be right here every step of the way,” she whispers as my tears slow.

I shake my head, wiping the moisture from my cheeks. “I’m scared.”

She nods, and as I snuggle in closer, she rests her chin on the top of my head. “I know, but it’s time.”

She’s right. It is. I was accepted into the Bachelor of Education the year I graduated from high school. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do when I was eighteen, so I chose the safe bet and decided to become a teacher like Mum. But then, nerves got the better of me, and I deferred for two years.

Despite my fear, though, I need to do this. I need to stand on my own two feet and make something of myself.

“It’ll all be fine, my love,” Mum says as she pulls away from me and climbs to her feet. “Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, your new adventure begins.”

She helps me up, guides me into the kitchen, and pours me a cup of coffee.

I sigh around the mug as I take my first sip and realise that I’ve never felt worse than I do right now.

Surely that means it’s only up from here, right?

If only I knew then what I do now…

-1-

INDIGO

FOUR YEARS LATER

“YOU LOOK GREAT. You can wear whatever the hell you want to,” I whisper to my reflection.

Taking a deep breath, I tug at the hem of my white sundress and try to convince myself of the words. I love this dress. I do. It was one of the first items of clothing I bought myself after leaving Michael, and although shorter than anything I’ve worn in years, I adore the way it fits me.

My hips are a little wider than most, my thighs too, but I kind of like that because it’s a trait that I share with Mum.

The cellulite that comes with having curves, however, I could do without.

I sigh as I pull at the material one last time, trying to make it just that little bit longer, needing it to cover me just a little more. When that doesn’t work, I start fussing with my hair.

I love my curls. They’re unique. Beautiful. They make me, me, yet somehow, I let Michaelconvince me they were a flaw, and spent over two years of my life trying to straighten every wave and kink from my hair.

As I stare back at myself in the full-length mirror, his words echo through my mind.

It’s too short Indigo, everyone will think you’re for sale.

Why do you feel the need to show off your chest? You look like a hooker.

That’s a lot of fucking makeup.

Who the hell is going to take you seriously with that mop of hair? Straighten it or put it up for fuck’s sake. I’m not leaving the house with you looking like that.

“Stop it,” I hiss at myself, scrunching my eyes closed. “Fuck him.”

“Indie-girl.” Mum says, startling me.

I open my eyes and spin around to find her standing in the doorway of my bedroom, holding a cup of coffee in each hand.

“You look gorgeous,” she says, her eyes turning glassy as they meet mine.

I sigh, hating that I’m the one who put that look on her face. “Mum. I’m fine. Really. I was just having a moment.”

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