Layla was a kindred spirit. Someone you find once in a lifetime. A breath of fresh air.

But among all things, she was broken.

She would occasionally tell Melanie tales of a little girl, one who was struggling and in immense pain. She intentionally added a fairytale element to soften the lingering depressing tone of the concept. She did it all for Melanie.

Despite her incredulous intelligence for her young age, Layla couldn't fool Melanie.

She knew that the tales were snippets of gut-wrenching memories that Layla romanticised and converted into stories, stories of a girl who had nothing left to live for. Maybe as a coping mechanism, the urge to tell somebody, anybody about the excruciating pain she was enduring.

However, Melanie played along. For the sake of her best friend. She had no other option, they were both children and Melanie didn't know how she could offer help.

So she listened to every tale about a princess named Layla who had many obstacles in her life. Despite the challenges, she seemed to arise from the ashes, building her life back up again.

She listened as an nine-year old talked about unfathomable hardships she had to go through, how she felt like she had no one by her side. She watched as she said everything so calmly, like everything that happened was a regular occurrence.

And in the end she listened as her best friend left the earth, never finding the happiness and peace she so persistently sought after.

She was the dead girl, Layla.

The Tales of a Dead Girl: The Story Layla Waters

                                            • • •
     "Ugh, but mom," Melanie whines, dragging out the sound of her words, "Do I have to go?"

      "Yes, honey, you're eleven, and you've got no friends. So forgive me for being highly concerned," Melanie's mother, Tara, scoffs, using the car mirror to carefully re-apply a coat of mascara on her eyelashes.

The sun shone profusely, dripping rays of light on Melanie and Tara's pale skin.

The warm weather heated the car, making eleven-year old Melanie rest her head on the scorching window, cleverly using the warmth as comfort.

She peeked out and her eyes met with the words Brookview Community Centre etched on the large building her mother was parked in front of.

She winced in reluctance.

      "Mom, you shouldn't have given up your holiday in Spain to take me to this stupid socialisation class."

      "Oh, honey, don't you see? I'm doing this for you," Tara frowns her eyebrows empathetically.

      "Mom, can't you tell I'm perfectly normal?" Melanie raises her eyebrows up and down all whilst goofily 'shimmying' and dancing to no music, making Tara burst into hearty laughter.

      "Honey, I love you, you know that. Now go in there and make your mama proud, okay, Mel? Go make some friends, honey," Tara says through a loving smile.

      "Okay...How about you make your daughter proud and give me a little sister," Melanie pleads.

      "Mel, my ship has sailed," Tara jokes.

Melanie doesn't respond, communicating with her eyebrows that she doesn't understand what Tara is implying.

    "When you're old enough I'll explain," Tara chuckles lightly to herself, reaching into her purse to fish for a lip balm to apply to her chapped lips, "Now scram!"

Melanie exits the car. Her luscious black hair is groomed into two dutch braids ending in pigtails and she is wearing jean overalls and a light pink long sleeve turtleneck underneath.

She was the epitome of a child, little did she know her childhood would be snatched from her earlier than expected.

Melanie took one last good look at her mother before finally accepting her fate and walking towards the community centre.

The faint fumes of Cheeto balls and apple juice greet her as she enters the building.

This was Melanie's kind of scene.

Food? She'll be there. She just wished her mother would've informed her about the free meals earlier.

There's quite a few children – maybe like forty-five, and they all have someone to hang out with, a friend, whereas Melanie didn't have one.

For the first time in her life she felt lonely. Melanie Hall always had someone, always. She was one of the most popular girls at Brookview Elementary – she's even friends with some of the sixth graders when she's only in fifth grade.

She was beautiful. Pale skin with barely-there freckles, rosy full lips and dark-brown eyes, almost black. And her most prized possession, her jet black hair. She had the kind of beauty that makes you stop and say – wow.

The other kids were loud and noisy and it forced Melanie to find a quiet spot.

She leaves the building's lobby and goes through the backdoor, hoping to find some peace and quiet.

And that's when she saw her.

Wavy brown hair, emerald green eyes, tan olive skin and sitting on the stairwells.

Layla Waters.

She looks perfect, beautiful, happy.

She looked like everything she wasn't.

And there it was again. That distant longing feeling. The same way she felt when she first saw Charlie. Like somehow, someway, they were destined to meet it each other. Like she was meant to be apart of her life.

They bore into each other's eyes, finding each other fascinating.

The unkempt section of the community centre drips water from the ceiling, onto the step in front of Layla.

Then, in silence, Melanie makes her way over to the stairwells and sits next to her.

In silence, Layla offers her part of her sandwich.

In silence, Melanie accepts.

In silence, they smile at each other.

And in silence, they become best friends.

Star-crossed best friends.

_______________
951 words
25/08/23