Memento Mei.
Remember Me.
As I am, not as I was.
Life is challenging enough as it is.
For Skyelle life's challenges go beyond that. Life is a nuisance, a road block to the bittersweet end she desires. Cloaked in an ever present depression stemming...
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(A/n: fun fact! This was going to be the cover and title when I first came up with Atlantis. Found this hiding in the horror that is my photo app 😂)
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The Dad Brigade is what I've dubbed the group of friends Marc has. They usually only make the rare appearance, storming in like a parental military unit. Corey makes sure I'm doing my schoolwork, and that I'm not falling behind. Axel checks over the entire property to make sure it's up to code and that I'm not hiding drugs in any new places. Raven will snatch back my drugs that Axel confiscated, and sneak them back to me on the sly. Raven also threatens boys who get ideas, or anyone who gets ideas. Especially if Marc gets ideas - like sending off to a special facility that will make me more comfortable. A nursing home for dying young adults.
Brandon often is the one to stand aside and not interfere until it's time for them to dip out. Then he'll come talk to me privately and check in on how I'm doing mentally.
Sometimes Brandon gives me gifts that are entirely random. I never get the chance to ask him what they're for. It's always the last thing he does before leaving without another word. Last time had been a pretty porcelain music box with a silhouette girl curtsying on top. She turns in a circle on top of a bed of blue roses and green coral. I put the strange gifts in a box in the back of my closet, not sure what exactly I'm suppose to do with them.
Usually when Marc calls up the Dad Brigade, I try to outmaneuver them for as long as possible. This time, I wait patiently against a wall with my arms crossed. I'm staring into the puddle on the street as dozens of partiers laugh and stumble up and down it. There's no telling what that puddle is actually made of. Once I accidentally stepped in one and the next day the sole off shoe just peeled off. The police that stand at the blocked off entrances to the street, barely pay attention to anything except cars trying to pass through anyways or if someone gets a little rowdy with a knife. It's a typical late night on Bourbon Street.
I don't feel steady or grounded anymore. What's been happening to me, particularly tonight, has rattled me down to the bone. I'm not sure how to handle it. I've become so used to feeling barely alive, that I'm overcome with everything I'm feeling. It's seeping through, permeating everything I thought I knew. I thought I had things figured out for the most part. I'll progressively get sicker until I die in my mid twenties. I couldn't hope for more than ten more years of my life, and that's if I'd even want to at that point.
