literature

DualRivalShipping Contest: Shattered

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Literature Text

The photograph in the frame stares out at me. It speaks of happier times. Before my life turned to misery. Me and my two best friend at age ten, about to head out on our journey. We had always been close. 

“We’ll always be best friends, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt!”

But those days are gone, right along with most of the cheerfulness I always had back then. We’d promised to always keep in touch. At least, I’d promised.

White, Bianca, and Cheren. The three of us were tight as a high wire. White, the quiet, daring, girl with questionable sanity that dragged us away from the TVs and into nature all summer. Cheren, the smart, bookish boy always spouting facts. And me, Bianca, the naive, bubbly girl accompanying them. I’m not naive, nor am I bubbly anymore. I walk through the streets of town as a ghost, a shell of who I used to be. My old pokéballs sit on my dresser, unused. Much as I love them, they can’t help me, and I can’t bear to let them see me like this. Likely, they’ll be in those balls until the capture net wears through and the latch rusts and breaks.

It’s been years since the three of us have spoken. Since that fight. White had told us she was going to look for that green-haired boy, N, and she and Cheren had disagreed. They got into an argument, and all I did was watch as voices rose, lines were crossed, and faces flushed from anger. I’d been too terrified to do anything. 

Before White threw a punch, Cheren had shouted, “Fine! Go off, look for him, and die for all I care!” and stormed out the door.

“And you stay here buried in books like a worm with no life, like you’re supposed to be!” White had yelled back, and stormed in the opposite direction.

I’d been torn. I wanted to talk to both of them at the same time and get them to apologize to each other, but all I could ever offer in times like these were a few words of comfort and a hug, and right then I was too frightened they’d be mad at me and madder at each other, and I’d lose the both of them.

It turned out, I had already. I couldn’t face either of them. I had just stood there like an idiot, watching in terror as my best friends in the world turned on each other. What I ended up doing was walking out the door, praying things would be okay.

They weren’t. White went off to search for N, and nobody’s heard from her in two years. Cheren became Aspertia city’s gym leader, and he’s so close to Juniper’s lab, yet so far away. We pass on the street, and it’s like we’re strangers. An occasional nod. A card on Christmas. But we never speak, we never even interact more than brushing past each other on the sidewalk. The last time we spoke was when White left. She really was the glue that held the three of us together. And when she left, it was like someone had torn us apart. To me, it felt like someone had torn my arm off, leaving a gaping hole in me.

Best friends forever? Only in a dream. I raise the photograph, and I smash it on the floor, tears streaming from my eyes. Tears of bottled-up hatred, anger, betrayal, sadness, angst, pain, heartbreak. Shards of glass ricochet across the floor, landing at my feet. I fall onto my knees, letting a sob loose. I clench my fists and fall onto my hands, more hot tears run down my face and drip off my nose, landing in the shards of lethal glass. I sit back on my ankles, rubbing my face and cleaning off my glasses.

I remember. And I’m going to make them remember, too.

I pick up the broken photograph and put it back. Then I dust off my old Xtranciever, the one with White’s and Cheren’s phone numbers still in it. Rubbing my eyes, I pick it up and call.

"Hello, Aspertia city gym."

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