After You Left Me

• Grace Meehan, Grade 09, All Hallows School
• Short Story
• 2017

Excellence Award in the 'Spread The Word 2017' competition

Everything about Violet had been outspoken and wild. Her hair was a primitive beast that could not be tamed. Mae could still hear her laugh, which commanded attention, ringing in her ears as though her senses were working to compensate for her unstable emotions. She could remember the hurried way she spoke as if she was running out of time. Mae could barely remember these parts of Violet, as though her memory had broken alongside her heart.

Violet did not deserve to die of cancer, her cough weakening to a rasp as she continued to deteriorate despite the efforts of doctors and nurses. Mae had always stood silently whilst people had fluttered around her sister trying desperately to keep her frail body alive. These people did not know the real Violet, the Violet who would have emergency dance parties when she was stressed and only liked chocolate milkshakes. A girl who wrote poetry and who stood up for what she believed in. There were not enough words in the world to describe Violet in the way she deserved, but Mae would never speak again if it meant that there were a few extra words for Violet.

Mae felt like she was a heavy raincloud overhead causing people to avoid her for fear the cloud would one day burst and drown everyone around her in a sea of tears. She had to act one way when she was in public but when she was home she felt like she could finally be herself like she could be the strong person she knew Violet was, the strong person she knew Violet would want her to be.

School was a sea of bright colours and empathic glances from the students who, yet again, pitied Mae and her grief. Teachers who had once had strong beliefs on deadlines and homework gave Mae extensions and awkward condolences, talking about Violet's death as though she had been a carton of milk that had simply gone past its use by date. Mae felt drained and had a sudden sense of claustrophobia. The screech of the chalk on her English teachers chalkboard sounded like a chorus of screams and the rapping of a student’s pencil on the desk was like the ticking of a clock, a clock that was counting down until she would lash out, screaming at the concerned faces looking at her. She knew she could not let her guard down; she would be labelled as unstable, unable to deal with her sister's death. Mae couldn’t let it happen, so she ran. She ran out into the sun, twirling and feeling it gently stroke her skin with its warm embrace. She decided to free herself of her grief, dance into the wind, sing until her lungs hurt and twirl until the world spun. Mae let herself fall back into the soft grass below her and closed her eyes, and for a few minutes, she was back in her sister's arms, filled with her sister's warm embrace.