SolaireOfAstora
After Mon and Tues, even the calendar says WTF
Hello, once again, I'm going to try a writing shop. The last one died...so yeah. IF YOUR WRITING IS NOT DONE WITHIN 1-2 MONTHS, YOU GET IT CHEAP OR FREE
Pay what you want, because I hate negotiating tbt deals rip. Please be reasonable though
I have a hard time remembering to do things. Plus, tons of school work.
If you give me a rubric and some TBT, I'll do a French assignment (essay, story, poem, etc.) (core or extended, since I'm immersion) I can also do English assignments. YOU MUST PROVIDE A RUBRIC FOR THIS! (yeah, I guess I'm doing your homework...xD
WRITER 1: Painchri589 (moi!)
I can write in English or French (in case you didn't notice)
**I won't do anything NSFW, Super violent, or anything I'm uncomfortable with**
I can write:
Poetry-sonnet, haiku, free verse, cinquin, acrostic, basically anything, I bleed poetry
Stories-Fantasy, Fanfic (only on topics I'm even the slightest bit familiar with), comedy, love (NOT NSFW, no weird stuff) really anything max of 1000 words per order due to time reasons
Song lyrics-Hey, why not?
Essays-English, French, topic depends
Book summary/description-(for the back of your novel, a blog, I'm running out of ideas)
Other Services
WHAT CREDITS I HAVE
Great question: 3 published books (2 fiction, 1 poetry) all in my local library and ibooks and Amazon, etc.
Winner of several writing awards (been in the top 35% too many times to count)
Experienced in the French language, as well as English
Been Published on several websites since I was 11
Examples:
A French example:
A story now:
My other story is on my school email/docs and the school just reset all the passwords rip.
I have this unfinished Fanfic about some random female character and Spark of team Instinct
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pn9vKYug15gFqGmvITmWUwpWGvneZ9klBDgLMsMAga0/edit?usp=sharing
This is a little something I do for close friends:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/103JgbdmYNpIR2c-BHZ0w5y_PSsOEuh71bpR0Qt-f5LI/edit?usp=sharing
A Haibun Poem that was commissioned:
WRITER 2: Aleigh
Payments:
Other services:
Examples of Aleigh's work
You may request a writer or not, and you will get one of the two of us
Some specifications will require it to either me or Aleigh though. Such as French will have to be me. Thank you!
Enjoy! Reopening!
Pay what you want, because I hate negotiating tbt deals rip. Please be reasonable though
I have a hard time remembering to do things. Plus, tons of school work.
If you give me a rubric and some TBT, I'll do a French assignment (essay, story, poem, etc.) (core or extended, since I'm immersion) I can also do English assignments. YOU MUST PROVIDE A RUBRIC FOR THIS! (yeah, I guess I'm doing your homework...xD
WRITER 1: Painchri589 (moi!)
I can write in English or French (in case you didn't notice)
Payments:
TBT
Collectibles
rlc
TBT
Collectibles
rlc
**I won't do anything NSFW, Super violent, or anything I'm uncomfortable with**
I can write:
Poetry-sonnet, haiku, free verse, cinquin, acrostic, basically anything, I bleed poetry
Stories-Fantasy, Fanfic (only on topics I'm even the slightest bit familiar with), comedy, love (NOT NSFW, no weird stuff
) really anything max of 1000 words per order due to time reasonsSong lyrics-Hey, why not?
Book summary/description-(for the back of your novel, a blog, I'm running out of ideas)
Other Services
proofreading
Editing (light, moderate, heavy or no mercy available)
Ghostwriting
Editing (light, moderate, heavy or no mercy available)
Ghostwriting
WHAT CREDITS I HAVE
Great question: 3 published books (2 fiction, 1 poetry) all in my local library and ibooks and Amazon, etc.
Winner of several writing awards (been in the top 35% too many times to count)
Experienced in the French language, as well as English
Been Published on several websites since I was 11
Examples:
Regrets
What I regret the most,
Is letting you go,
Letting you walk away
I grasp at nothing,
Grabbing for your hand
You’re already gone
It’s too late
I had let ignorance get to me,
Oblivious to your perfection
I couldn’t be strong,
I surrendered to the pain
I cherish every precious memory
With you in mind
Your voice in my mind has chased away
All the sanity in me
Keeping me from the ledge
Until I see it once more
It takes every last bit of strength I have
To jump
What I regret the most,
Is letting you go,
Letting you walk away
I grasp at nothing,
Grabbing for your hand
You’re already gone
It’s too late
I had let ignorance get to me,
Oblivious to your perfection
I couldn’t be strong,
I surrendered to the pain
I cherish every precious memory
With you in mind
Your voice in my mind has chased away
All the sanity in me
Keeping me from the ledge
Until I see it once more
It takes every last bit of strength I have
To jump
The Story of my Life
Hide your tears,
Your scars,
Your pain
I cry out
Nobody is here to save me
Nobody wants to be my hero
The tears burn into my skin,
The searing cuts begin to form
I am drowning in my own sorrow,
Suffocating in my own tragedy,
The tragedy my life has become
I am nothing
The thoughts cloud my mind,
Causing my wounds to run even deeper,
My blood to run even thicker
A deafening silence,
All is still
I open my eyes to see only darkness,
The emptiness of myself,
What I truly am
Enough with the act,
I am done,
Done with what I am,
Done with what I am becoming
My life is a book
I’m here to write it
I wipe away the tears,
As I grab my pen,
This is my story,
It’s not ending here
Hide your tears,
Your scars,
Your pain
I cry out
Nobody is here to save me
Nobody wants to be my hero
The tears burn into my skin,
The searing cuts begin to form
I am drowning in my own sorrow,
Suffocating in my own tragedy,
The tragedy my life has become
I am nothing
The thoughts cloud my mind,
Causing my wounds to run even deeper,
My blood to run even thicker
A deafening silence,
All is still
I open my eyes to see only darkness,
The emptiness of myself,
What I truly am
Enough with the act,
I am done,
Done with what I am,
Done with what I am becoming
My life is a book
I’m here to write it
I wipe away the tears,
As I grab my pen,
This is my story,
It’s not ending here
I’m Not Asleep
Struggling to stay awake,
On this dark night
My world begins to quake
I fear that I’m not alone
They’re coming for me
From the unknown
They come in one by one
Now it’s time,
It has begun
They have come to seal my fate
I’m in this terrible nightmare
As they drag me to their fiery gate
I watch myself burn
Dying inside,
For freedom, I yearn
To see myself from other eyes,
To watch myself scream,
I only hear their deafening cries
I’m in my worst nightmare
I know it’s all over,
When I see that stone-cold glare
Rising is the feeling of fear,
Dancing shadows on the walls
Watching the light disappear
I see a menacing shape
It is then that I grasp it,
There is no escape
I hear the sound I dread
The silence being broken,
The blood being bled
I am trapped in this horrible dream
When they call my name
In an ear-splitting scream
I know now it is the end,
I’m being taken apart
By this heartless fiend
I feel the life being taken away
As I watch myself
Be led astray
Something is wrong
Something inside
When your dreams and reality begin to collide
This place where I am, devilishly dreary
I know I’m letting go
As I feel my limbs grow weary
What my dreams have become,
No man shall know,
Only that this fear must be overcome
My dreams have become my worst disguise
Keeping me from reality,
Known as the cave where the demon lies
I try to wake from this darkness so deep
Except when I realize,
I’m not asleep
Struggling to stay awake,
On this dark night
My world begins to quake
I fear that I’m not alone
They’re coming for me
From the unknown
They come in one by one
Now it’s time,
It has begun
They have come to seal my fate
I’m in this terrible nightmare
As they drag me to their fiery gate
I watch myself burn
Dying inside,
For freedom, I yearn
To see myself from other eyes,
To watch myself scream,
I only hear their deafening cries
I’m in my worst nightmare
I know it’s all over,
When I see that stone-cold glare
Rising is the feeling of fear,
Dancing shadows on the walls
Watching the light disappear
I see a menacing shape
It is then that I grasp it,
There is no escape
I hear the sound I dread
The silence being broken,
The blood being bled
I am trapped in this horrible dream
When they call my name
In an ear-splitting scream
I know now it is the end,
I’m being taken apart
By this heartless fiend
I feel the life being taken away
As I watch myself
Be led astray
Something is wrong
Something inside
When your dreams and reality begin to collide
This place where I am, devilishly dreary
I know I’m letting go
As I feel my limbs grow weary
What my dreams have become,
No man shall know,
Only that this fear must be overcome
My dreams have become my worst disguise
Keeping me from reality,
Known as the cave where the demon lies
I try to wake from this darkness so deep
Except when I realize,
I’m not asleep
A French example:
La R?alit?
C'est ma r?alit?
C'est mon choix, ils disent
C'est ? moi, ils disent
Ils ne savent pas les difficult?s
Que je vois, tous les jours
Ils ne savent pas, ce n'est pas moi
Je ne veux pas ?tre comme moi,
Je ne peux pas apprendre comment aim?;
Mon visage;
Mon intelligence;
Comment je r?agis aux situations
Ils ne savent pas, ils ne savent rien de moi,
Mais, par leurs natures, ils me jugent,
Ils regardent tous mes d?fauts,
Tous que je ne suis pas
Ils ne peuvent pas voir ce qu’il y a,
Sous ma peau,
Sur l’interieur,
Qui suis-je
Cela ne me d?rrange pas,
Cela me fais plus forte,
Plus intelligent
Je suis moi,
Ils doivent apprendre
Comment aimer moi,
Pour qui je suis
C'est ma r?alit?
C'est mon choix, ils disent
C'est ? moi, ils disent
Ils ne savent pas les difficult?s
Que je vois, tous les jours
Ils ne savent pas, ce n'est pas moi
Je ne veux pas ?tre comme moi,
Je ne peux pas apprendre comment aim?;
Mon visage;
Mon intelligence;
Comment je r?agis aux situations
Ils ne savent pas, ils ne savent rien de moi,
Mais, par leurs natures, ils me jugent,
Ils regardent tous mes d?fauts,
Tous que je ne suis pas
Ils ne peuvent pas voir ce qu’il y a,
Sous ma peau,
Sur l’interieur,
Qui suis-je
Cela ne me d?rrange pas,
Cela me fais plus forte,
Plus intelligent
Je suis moi,
Ils doivent apprendre
Comment aimer moi,
Pour qui je suis
A story now:
My other story is on my school email/docs and the school just reset all the passwords rip.
I have this unfinished Fanfic about some random female character and Spark of team Instinct
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pn9vKYug15gFqGmvITmWUwpWGvneZ9klBDgLMsMAga0/edit?usp=sharing
This is a little something I do for close friends:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/103JgbdmYNpIR2c-BHZ0w5y_PSsOEuh71bpR0Qt-f5LI/edit?usp=sharing
A Haibun Poem that was commissioned:
“The Love I Once Felt”
In the depth of shadows; stirring once more. The drizzle of rain, now masked by viscious thunder, leaving them breathless. As they watch her stride away, everlost in the darkness to come; without turning back. They say she is lost in an imperfect reality, to find her is the haunting goal. No matter, time is irrelevant, time is just another impurity in a flawed world. Flawed until the search ends, to see her once more, to love her once again.
In a flawed world,
Just forsake the love I have
‘Til we meet again
In the depth of shadows; stirring once more. The drizzle of rain, now masked by viscious thunder, leaving them breathless. As they watch her stride away, everlost in the darkness to come; without turning back. They say she is lost in an imperfect reality, to find her is the haunting goal. No matter, time is irrelevant, time is just another impurity in a flawed world. Flawed until the search ends, to see her once more, to love her once again.
In a flawed world,
Just forsake the love I have
‘Til we meet again
WRITER 2: Aleigh
- Prefers writing stories
- PWYW
- Will write pretty much anything in paragraph format (stories, not prose poetry)
- No NSFW
- Writes in English
- PWYW
- Will write pretty much anything in paragraph format (stories, not prose poetry)
- No NSFW
- Writes in English
Payments:
tbt
collectibles
collectibles
Other services:
Editing and proofreading
Examples of Aleigh's work
WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT. DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A STRONG STOMACH OR DISLIKE USE OF STRONG LANGUAGE.
I should've been there. I could've saved her. I should've disobeyed her wishes and told someone. I could've put him in jail before this. But I didn't, and that is what hurts the most. Macy Hannah Wayne, I failed you. I am so sorry. I will never forgive myself.
PRE-ACCIDENT
"Macy your eye!" I shrieked when I saw my best friend walk up and take her sunglasses off.
She quickly shushed me, "Tay be quiet! I don't want any attention!"
I hesitated for a moment, taking a nervous gulp, "Was it Derek again?" She nodded slowly with a sad expression on her face.
Derek was her step-father. When Macy was five, her parents split up and her real father wanted nothing to do with Macy or her mother. When she was six, her mother found a boyfriend, Derek. Since then, Derek abused Macy up and down in all sorts of ways, and her mother knew nothing about it. Macy was too little to realize what she was getting into, and has been afraid to tell anyone ever since. Nine years later, Derek and Macy's mom got married and I'm the only one who knows what's been - and still - going on.
"Macy," I begged, "please. I don't want to keep seeing you like this. Please tell someone."
"No!" she shouted in a quick manner, "if I do he'll hurt me!"
"And he'll hurt you if you don't," I said, hitting her with the truth, "and if you don't tell someone I will."
Macy refused to make eye contact with me. Staring at her feet, she whispered, "If you tell someone I don't think I could ever forgive you. When I told you, you promised to never tell anyone. Keep that promise, Tay. Please."
I sighed and agreed. Macy stuck her sunglasses back on, and we silently walked to our tree. The tire swing that pathetically held itself below the tree swung back and forth, just barely. It wasn't too windy, in fact it was perfect weather for chilling in the forest near my house.
"What if we just both moved out here? No parents, no step-parents, just us and the nature," I blurted as I took a seat on the swing.
"I wish," Macy replied in a tone of despair that saddened me.
The next few minutes were quiet, nothing but the breeze and birds fulfilling our ears. I couldn't help but to worry about my best friend, she's been getting worse and worse so fast these past couple of months. I looked over to her; I could tell her mind was wondering to places far from here. She was staring out into the open, nothing specific. I looked away again.
Macy broke the silence, saying, "I hate him. I hate my mom for loving him. I hate my dad for leaving me. I hate my ****ty family."
"I know," was all I could say.
Now she was in tears, "He's ruined my life! How can a human be so terrible? How can he live with himself?"
"Don't cry," I muttered in a low volume, not sure if she heard me.
"How can my mom love him?" She sobbed, raising herself off the tire. It was now an angry-depressed shout, "HOW CAN ANYONE LOVE HIM?" Everything around her now became vulnerable; she picked up sticks and rocks and chucked them with all her might at the trees and sky. "HE'S NOT ****ING LOVABLE!" She screamed, then clenching her fist and swung at the nearest tree, our tree, smacking with a force that could break bones.
"Macy," I was speechless. I've never seen her like this before.
Macy was now on the ground, holding her fingers, bawling.
"Macy," I said once again joining her on the ground. Without saying anything, I shoved my arms around her and pulled her in tight. I had a stinging lump in my throat due to holding my tears back. Her pain was my pain, and I couldn't bare it.
"I love you," she cried into my shirt.
"I love you too Mace."
•••
My phone rang, waking me up. I checked the time- 7:32 am. It was Macy calling.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Tay I need a favor from you," the voice of Macy came through the phone. I accepted, so then she continued, "Could I spend the night for a couple nights? Mom is going on a work trip again, and I'm don't want to stay here alone."
I thought for a moment, then said, "I need to ask my mom. Hold on a second." I put the phone down without hanging up and went a room over to see if my mom was awake. With no surprise, she was just barely up and making herself a cup of coffee.
"Hey mom can Mace spend the night?" I asked, refraining myself from telling her the reason why.
"No, I have cleaning to do around the house and I can't have people over," she yawned.
I groaned, "then can I stay at her place?"
"No, you have to help me."
I got pissed and left with nothing else said, returning to the call more aggravated then I was before.
"You can't come over and I can't go there," I spit into the phone, "my mom is being a *****."
There wasn't much conversation after that, except for a bunch of sighs and her telling me about how her hand was broken and she now had a cast which made everything so much harder. The call ended, and I fell back asleep, not worrying too much.
But then she wasn't at school the next day
POST-ACCIDENT
My foot was restless under my desk, and I was paying no attention to the teacher. We had twenty minutes until we got out, and I was anxious to leave and talk to Macy. She hadn't been to school for the past three days, and wasn't responding to my texts. I figured it was because of her cast, which covered all her fingers except her thumb. But wouldn't she call by now? I was over-thinking.
"Earth to Taylor," my teacher said, snapping me back to reality.
"Oh, sorry. Yes?"
"Can you tell me how to say 'Yes, I would like chocolate icecream'?"
I stopped all my thoughts for a moment and focused on this one thing. If I answered, the likeliness of her calling on me again was slim, so I took it.
"Ja, ich m?chte Schokolade Eis," I replied, in German.
"Danke," she said, turning away again to continue her lesson. Ten minutes left.
Nine...
Eight...
Seven...
Six...
Five...
Four...
Three...
Two...
One...
Ringgg
The moment that bell went off I whipped out my phone and called Macy. I took my backpack and shoved in in my locker, hearing the continuous dial tone.
After what seemed like forever, the voicemail came in action, "Hey, this is Macy. Can't reach you right now, so leave a message and maybe I'll respond if I care enough."
"Hey Mace, can you call me back? I need to know if you're okay. Are you okay? I love you. Call me. Bye," I spoke into the phone, hoping she'll hear it.
The moment I got into the car, I told my mom to drive to Macy's house. She didn't deny, she could tell there was a worry in my eyes. We got to her house, and there were no cars out front. Which is odd, usually Derek's car is on the driveway. Maybe he's at work.
My mom stayed in the car as I went to knock, and there was no answer. I turned the doorknob, and it was weirdly unlocked.
"Mace..?" I called out once or twice. I went up to her room; nothing. The bathroom; nothing. The basement; nothing. Her parent's room; nothing. That was until I got to the backyard, and what I saw I will never forget.
"Mace!" I yelled, not knowing what I was about to come to. She was on the ground, and I thought it was odd at first but sometimes we slept in the forest or in our backyards so I didn't think too much of it. I got closer, and this foul smell kicked in. That's when I about freaked.
The grass around her was stained dark red, and her skin was a pale white. By then I was shaking like a madman, and turned her around so I could see her face.
The moment I saw her face I let go, screaming. I was now shaking more than before and too in shock to realize what had happened. There were small bugs surrounding her and knife in her neck. My mouth was covered by my hands, and tears were spilling out so quietly I could hear my rapid heartbeat.
The cast that was on her arm was somewhat cracked, and there were bruises and dried blood spots everywhere. A bone was sticking out of her leg, and I felt so bad.
"Macy... Oh Macy... What has he done?" I suddenly felt a rage run over myself. I wanted to hurt Derek. I wanted him to suffer. My rage was towards him, but then it was towards myself.
I should've let her spend the night. Everything would be okay. This is all my fault.
Running back to my mom in tears, I told her what I had just seen and to call the cops and Macy's mother. My mind, as well as my heart, was racing and every thought was like a brick. I wanted to wait until Derek got back so I could make his life a living hell, just as he did to Macy's, but then the pieces fell together. He ran. And he's not coming back.
"Mom she's gone," I couldn't stop repeating. Why? She was so innocent? Why her?
My mom was on the phone with dispatch while trying to comfort me. The police and an ambulance was on the way, and would be there in about fifteen minutes. I solemnly wished to die, to be with her, maybe just one more time. I want her to know how sorry I am, how much I love her, to hear her voice one more time.
Maybe this is all a dream, a really bad nightmare. I tried pinching myself over and over again, each time a little harder. Nothing. I left my mom to go say one more goodbye, as the ambulance would probably take her away forever. I was bawling, harder than Macy was at our tree, and bent down towards her. Despite the bugs, smell, and blood, I grabbed my best friend and hugged her. I hugged her and it felt like she was still with me.
My tears were almost cleaning the blood stains off her skin and were dampening her shirt. After about five minutes of crying and holding her, I decided to take the knife out. We know who did it, and I don't care what they say. I can't stand to see her like that, and I will do everything I can to help her. I pulled it out, trying so hard not to puke, but I did as soon as I set the knife down. There was blood spilling out of her neck now, and that was it for me. My hand was now splattered with that nasty red and sticky crap, and my stomach unloaded itself next to the body, adding to the smell.
One last check for life, I put my fingers on her cold wrist to find a pulse. No pulse. Then her neck, still no pulse. Finally I gave up after putting my finger under her nose and felt no breath. She was really gone, and from that moment on I've had this void in my heart nothing can fill but her.
The police showed up, and I was ordered to leave the scene and give a statement. I couldn't do it without crying, and it broke my mom's heart.
Everything after that, is just a big blur that I never want to remember. But sadly, that day was burned into my head for the rest of my life.
FUNERAL
I couldn't help myself, but every time I looked at Macy's mom I gave her a dirty look. Well, as dirty as it could get with red puffy eyes and mascara draining down my cheeks.
"Her murderer will not get away with this," the speaker for the funeral said, "I can promise you that. We have caught him, and he is in trial now. Aside from that, Macy Wayne was an amazing girl. She did not deserve to go, not like this nonetheless, and my prayers go to her friends and family."
Everything he said made me cringe. He did not know her at all, how can he be saying this ****? At least my speech will be meaningful.
After a bunch of blah-blah, the speaker handed the podium off to me, "and now are a few words from Macy's best friend, Taylor Remmsdean!"
All attention was now on me, and I walked up to the mike. I turned to look at the casket. The hospital was all done with their tests and she could finally be put to peace. Her neck was stitched, the cast was cut off, but her hand and leg were still very broken.
Finally, I turned back to the crowd and began speaking.
"This is all my fault. Now before you say, 'no it wasn't, it was Derek's fault,' lets backtrack here. At the age of six, Macy came up to me complaining of a new dad. At the age of seven, she came to me complaining about 'owwies' this new dad gave her. At the age of eight, she came to me crying about how this sick-ass-son-of-a-***** raped her. No, she didn't use those words, but I still remember what exactly she said. She said to me, 'my mom's husband wanted to play with me, but with my clothes off. I told him I was uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He hurt me, Tay. He hurt me in places only my mom and doctor are supposed to touch.' I remember her face, even though it was so many years ago. She came to school in very loose, baggy clothing covering all of her skin. To hide the shame, physically and emotionally. That should've been the last straw, but I did nothing, because she told me to. She told me that he would hurt her more if she told, and I didn't want that. At the age of eleven she tried to run away because the abuse became so much worse. I went with her, but we only went as far as the forest behind my house. We stopped because we found a tree with a tire swing on it, and being the little kids we were, stopped to play on it. That's how we found 'our tree,' as we called it. My mom found us, since it wasn't that far, and brought us home, while in the midst of it not knowing why the hell we left, as we refused to say. The rapes and molesting stopped around the age of twelve, I assume since she was older now and he was scared of either getting caught or impregnating her. But the physical and verbal abuse got worse. Skip to age fourteen and she wasn't the girl who laughed at everything anymore. She wasn't the girl who was always enthusiastic and could cheer anyone up with a smile. The bright little girl, was gone. That's when I really lost her. One year later, this year actually, she turned fifteen. She was getting worse by the day, and I was the only one who knew. Her mom didn't know, my mom didn't know, no one knew. Age fifteen, he killed her for reasons unknown. We never even got to our sweet sixteen together. I will be going on alone now, because of my wrong doing. I should've been there. I could've saved her. I should've disobeyed her wishes and told someone. I could've put him in jail before this. But I didn't, and that is what hurts the most. Macy Hannah Wayne, I failed you. I am so sorry. I will never forgive myself."
I could barely hold myself up by the end, I was bawling way too hard and could barely breathe, let alone speak. I managed one more phrase, however, "And Mace, if you're listening, I'm so sorry. I love you so much and I wish I was better to you."
We stayed till the end of the funeral, and the first thing I did when I got home was go to our tree.
The flowers I was supposed to place at her grave, I took. I brought nails, a hammer, two pictures, the social security number, and a little basket.
Inside the basket was a cross, plastic flowers, the stuffed animal she loved so much, our friendship bracelets, the scrapbook we made so long ago (yet kept updating every chance we got), and more stuff I gathered that either she or I thought were to be treasured. I placed it near the swing and against the tree. I then leaned the real flowers on it, but not enough to cover what was in it.
With the hammer and the nails, I took the two pictures and stuck them onto the tree. The first picture was by far the most beautiful picture anyone could find of Macy, taken on her fifteenth birthday. No bruises, no tears, just Macy. The second was the two of us. We were both maybe fourteen, sitting in a pile of leaves by our tree. Flashbacks raided my head, and the dam of warm salty tears broke. I kept going, though. Then, I stuck the number on the tree and below it wrote, "Report every sign of abuse, no matter what. If not for you, then for Macy Hannah Wayne, a victim of abuse."
I made Macy the best memorial, not even the funeral could top. I took a picture of it just in case weather ruined it. My mom cried when she saw it and didn't stop hugging me. She wasn't mad that I kept my mouth shut about it, she understood my intentions. But I will always be mad. I should've done something. I blame myself, and always will.
I love you Mace.
I'm sorry.
I should've been there. I could've saved her. I should've disobeyed her wishes and told someone. I could've put him in jail before this. But I didn't, and that is what hurts the most. Macy Hannah Wayne, I failed you. I am so sorry. I will never forgive myself.
PRE-ACCIDENT
"Macy your eye!" I shrieked when I saw my best friend walk up and take her sunglasses off.
She quickly shushed me, "Tay be quiet! I don't want any attention!"
I hesitated for a moment, taking a nervous gulp, "Was it Derek again?" She nodded slowly with a sad expression on her face.
Derek was her step-father. When Macy was five, her parents split up and her real father wanted nothing to do with Macy or her mother. When she was six, her mother found a boyfriend, Derek. Since then, Derek abused Macy up and down in all sorts of ways, and her mother knew nothing about it. Macy was too little to realize what she was getting into, and has been afraid to tell anyone ever since. Nine years later, Derek and Macy's mom got married and I'm the only one who knows what's been - and still - going on.
"Macy," I begged, "please. I don't want to keep seeing you like this. Please tell someone."
"No!" she shouted in a quick manner, "if I do he'll hurt me!"
"And he'll hurt you if you don't," I said, hitting her with the truth, "and if you don't tell someone I will."
Macy refused to make eye contact with me. Staring at her feet, she whispered, "If you tell someone I don't think I could ever forgive you. When I told you, you promised to never tell anyone. Keep that promise, Tay. Please."
I sighed and agreed. Macy stuck her sunglasses back on, and we silently walked to our tree. The tire swing that pathetically held itself below the tree swung back and forth, just barely. It wasn't too windy, in fact it was perfect weather for chilling in the forest near my house.
"What if we just both moved out here? No parents, no step-parents, just us and the nature," I blurted as I took a seat on the swing.
"I wish," Macy replied in a tone of despair that saddened me.
The next few minutes were quiet, nothing but the breeze and birds fulfilling our ears. I couldn't help but to worry about my best friend, she's been getting worse and worse so fast these past couple of months. I looked over to her; I could tell her mind was wondering to places far from here. She was staring out into the open, nothing specific. I looked away again.
Macy broke the silence, saying, "I hate him. I hate my mom for loving him. I hate my dad for leaving me. I hate my ****ty family."
"I know," was all I could say.
Now she was in tears, "He's ruined my life! How can a human be so terrible? How can he live with himself?"
"Don't cry," I muttered in a low volume, not sure if she heard me.
"How can my mom love him?" She sobbed, raising herself off the tire. It was now an angry-depressed shout, "HOW CAN ANYONE LOVE HIM?" Everything around her now became vulnerable; she picked up sticks and rocks and chucked them with all her might at the trees and sky. "HE'S NOT ****ING LOVABLE!" She screamed, then clenching her fist and swung at the nearest tree, our tree, smacking with a force that could break bones.
"Macy," I was speechless. I've never seen her like this before.
Macy was now on the ground, holding her fingers, bawling.
"Macy," I said once again joining her on the ground. Without saying anything, I shoved my arms around her and pulled her in tight. I had a stinging lump in my throat due to holding my tears back. Her pain was my pain, and I couldn't bare it.
"I love you," she cried into my shirt.
"I love you too Mace."
•••
My phone rang, waking me up. I checked the time- 7:32 am. It was Macy calling.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Tay I need a favor from you," the voice of Macy came through the phone. I accepted, so then she continued, "Could I spend the night for a couple nights? Mom is going on a work trip again, and I'm don't want to stay here alone."
I thought for a moment, then said, "I need to ask my mom. Hold on a second." I put the phone down without hanging up and went a room over to see if my mom was awake. With no surprise, she was just barely up and making herself a cup of coffee.
"Hey mom can Mace spend the night?" I asked, refraining myself from telling her the reason why.
"No, I have cleaning to do around the house and I can't have people over," she yawned.
I groaned, "then can I stay at her place?"
"No, you have to help me."
I got pissed and left with nothing else said, returning to the call more aggravated then I was before.
"You can't come over and I can't go there," I spit into the phone, "my mom is being a *****."
There wasn't much conversation after that, except for a bunch of sighs and her telling me about how her hand was broken and she now had a cast which made everything so much harder. The call ended, and I fell back asleep, not worrying too much.
But then she wasn't at school the next day
POST-ACCIDENT
My foot was restless under my desk, and I was paying no attention to the teacher. We had twenty minutes until we got out, and I was anxious to leave and talk to Macy. She hadn't been to school for the past three days, and wasn't responding to my texts. I figured it was because of her cast, which covered all her fingers except her thumb. But wouldn't she call by now? I was over-thinking.
"Earth to Taylor," my teacher said, snapping me back to reality.
"Oh, sorry. Yes?"
"Can you tell me how to say 'Yes, I would like chocolate icecream'?"
I stopped all my thoughts for a moment and focused on this one thing. If I answered, the likeliness of her calling on me again was slim, so I took it.
"Ja, ich m?chte Schokolade Eis," I replied, in German.
"Danke," she said, turning away again to continue her lesson. Ten minutes left.
Nine...
Eight...
Seven...
Six...
Five...
Four...
Three...
Two...
One...
Ringgg
The moment that bell went off I whipped out my phone and called Macy. I took my backpack and shoved in in my locker, hearing the continuous dial tone.
After what seemed like forever, the voicemail came in action, "Hey, this is Macy. Can't reach you right now, so leave a message and maybe I'll respond if I care enough."
"Hey Mace, can you call me back? I need to know if you're okay. Are you okay? I love you. Call me. Bye," I spoke into the phone, hoping she'll hear it.
The moment I got into the car, I told my mom to drive to Macy's house. She didn't deny, she could tell there was a worry in my eyes. We got to her house, and there were no cars out front. Which is odd, usually Derek's car is on the driveway. Maybe he's at work.
My mom stayed in the car as I went to knock, and there was no answer. I turned the doorknob, and it was weirdly unlocked.
"Mace..?" I called out once or twice. I went up to her room; nothing. The bathroom; nothing. The basement; nothing. Her parent's room; nothing. That was until I got to the backyard, and what I saw I will never forget.
"Mace!" I yelled, not knowing what I was about to come to. She was on the ground, and I thought it was odd at first but sometimes we slept in the forest or in our backyards so I didn't think too much of it. I got closer, and this foul smell kicked in. That's when I about freaked.
The grass around her was stained dark red, and her skin was a pale white. By then I was shaking like a madman, and turned her around so I could see her face.
The moment I saw her face I let go, screaming. I was now shaking more than before and too in shock to realize what had happened. There were small bugs surrounding her and knife in her neck. My mouth was covered by my hands, and tears were spilling out so quietly I could hear my rapid heartbeat.
The cast that was on her arm was somewhat cracked, and there were bruises and dried blood spots everywhere. A bone was sticking out of her leg, and I felt so bad.
"Macy... Oh Macy... What has he done?" I suddenly felt a rage run over myself. I wanted to hurt Derek. I wanted him to suffer. My rage was towards him, but then it was towards myself.
I should've let her spend the night. Everything would be okay. This is all my fault.
Running back to my mom in tears, I told her what I had just seen and to call the cops and Macy's mother. My mind, as well as my heart, was racing and every thought was like a brick. I wanted to wait until Derek got back so I could make his life a living hell, just as he did to Macy's, but then the pieces fell together. He ran. And he's not coming back.
"Mom she's gone," I couldn't stop repeating. Why? She was so innocent? Why her?
My mom was on the phone with dispatch while trying to comfort me. The police and an ambulance was on the way, and would be there in about fifteen minutes. I solemnly wished to die, to be with her, maybe just one more time. I want her to know how sorry I am, how much I love her, to hear her voice one more time.
Maybe this is all a dream, a really bad nightmare. I tried pinching myself over and over again, each time a little harder. Nothing. I left my mom to go say one more goodbye, as the ambulance would probably take her away forever. I was bawling, harder than Macy was at our tree, and bent down towards her. Despite the bugs, smell, and blood, I grabbed my best friend and hugged her. I hugged her and it felt like she was still with me.
My tears were almost cleaning the blood stains off her skin and were dampening her shirt. After about five minutes of crying and holding her, I decided to take the knife out. We know who did it, and I don't care what they say. I can't stand to see her like that, and I will do everything I can to help her. I pulled it out, trying so hard not to puke, but I did as soon as I set the knife down. There was blood spilling out of her neck now, and that was it for me. My hand was now splattered with that nasty red and sticky crap, and my stomach unloaded itself next to the body, adding to the smell.
One last check for life, I put my fingers on her cold wrist to find a pulse. No pulse. Then her neck, still no pulse. Finally I gave up after putting my finger under her nose and felt no breath. She was really gone, and from that moment on I've had this void in my heart nothing can fill but her.
The police showed up, and I was ordered to leave the scene and give a statement. I couldn't do it without crying, and it broke my mom's heart.
Everything after that, is just a big blur that I never want to remember. But sadly, that day was burned into my head for the rest of my life.
FUNERAL
I couldn't help myself, but every time I looked at Macy's mom I gave her a dirty look. Well, as dirty as it could get with red puffy eyes and mascara draining down my cheeks.
"Her murderer will not get away with this," the speaker for the funeral said, "I can promise you that. We have caught him, and he is in trial now. Aside from that, Macy Wayne was an amazing girl. She did not deserve to go, not like this nonetheless, and my prayers go to her friends and family."
Everything he said made me cringe. He did not know her at all, how can he be saying this ****? At least my speech will be meaningful.
After a bunch of blah-blah, the speaker handed the podium off to me, "and now are a few words from Macy's best friend, Taylor Remmsdean!"
All attention was now on me, and I walked up to the mike. I turned to look at the casket. The hospital was all done with their tests and she could finally be put to peace. Her neck was stitched, the cast was cut off, but her hand and leg were still very broken.
Finally, I turned back to the crowd and began speaking.
"This is all my fault. Now before you say, 'no it wasn't, it was Derek's fault,' lets backtrack here. At the age of six, Macy came up to me complaining of a new dad. At the age of seven, she came to me complaining about 'owwies' this new dad gave her. At the age of eight, she came to me crying about how this sick-ass-son-of-a-***** raped her. No, she didn't use those words, but I still remember what exactly she said. She said to me, 'my mom's husband wanted to play with me, but with my clothes off. I told him I was uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He hurt me, Tay. He hurt me in places only my mom and doctor are supposed to touch.' I remember her face, even though it was so many years ago. She came to school in very loose, baggy clothing covering all of her skin. To hide the shame, physically and emotionally. That should've been the last straw, but I did nothing, because she told me to. She told me that he would hurt her more if she told, and I didn't want that. At the age of eleven she tried to run away because the abuse became so much worse. I went with her, but we only went as far as the forest behind my house. We stopped because we found a tree with a tire swing on it, and being the little kids we were, stopped to play on it. That's how we found 'our tree,' as we called it. My mom found us, since it wasn't that far, and brought us home, while in the midst of it not knowing why the hell we left, as we refused to say. The rapes and molesting stopped around the age of twelve, I assume since she was older now and he was scared of either getting caught or impregnating her. But the physical and verbal abuse got worse. Skip to age fourteen and she wasn't the girl who laughed at everything anymore. She wasn't the girl who was always enthusiastic and could cheer anyone up with a smile. The bright little girl, was gone. That's when I really lost her. One year later, this year actually, she turned fifteen. She was getting worse by the day, and I was the only one who knew. Her mom didn't know, my mom didn't know, no one knew. Age fifteen, he killed her for reasons unknown. We never even got to our sweet sixteen together. I will be going on alone now, because of my wrong doing. I should've been there. I could've saved her. I should've disobeyed her wishes and told someone. I could've put him in jail before this. But I didn't, and that is what hurts the most. Macy Hannah Wayne, I failed you. I am so sorry. I will never forgive myself."
I could barely hold myself up by the end, I was bawling way too hard and could barely breathe, let alone speak. I managed one more phrase, however, "And Mace, if you're listening, I'm so sorry. I love you so much and I wish I was better to you."
We stayed till the end of the funeral, and the first thing I did when I got home was go to our tree.
The flowers I was supposed to place at her grave, I took. I brought nails, a hammer, two pictures, the social security number, and a little basket.
Inside the basket was a cross, plastic flowers, the stuffed animal she loved so much, our friendship bracelets, the scrapbook we made so long ago (yet kept updating every chance we got), and more stuff I gathered that either she or I thought were to be treasured. I placed it near the swing and against the tree. I then leaned the real flowers on it, but not enough to cover what was in it.
With the hammer and the nails, I took the two pictures and stuck them onto the tree. The first picture was by far the most beautiful picture anyone could find of Macy, taken on her fifteenth birthday. No bruises, no tears, just Macy. The second was the two of us. We were both maybe fourteen, sitting in a pile of leaves by our tree. Flashbacks raided my head, and the dam of warm salty tears broke. I kept going, though. Then, I stuck the number on the tree and below it wrote, "Report every sign of abuse, no matter what. If not for you, then for Macy Hannah Wayne, a victim of abuse."
I made Macy the best memorial, not even the funeral could top. I took a picture of it just in case weather ruined it. My mom cried when she saw it and didn't stop hugging me. She wasn't mad that I kept my mouth shut about it, she understood my intentions. But I will always be mad. I should've done something. I blame myself, and always will.
I love you Mace.
I'm sorry.
You may request a writer or not, and you will get one of the two of us
Some specifications will require it to either me or Aleigh though. Such as French will have to be me.
Thank you!Enjoy! Reopening!
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