𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐚

'warning: mentions of topics that some readers may find distressing'

WHEN POLLY ENTERED THE SMALL HOME ON WATERY LANE, she could smell it. The cigarets. The alchol. It consumed her senses.

From the living room came the most hysterical crying, the screaming sobs only interrupted by the person's need to draw breath. It was a primal sound, one we're programmed not to ignore. To be so close to such pain changes a person, even just temporarily. Their own pains come a little closer to the surface; their empathy is triggered.

As Polly entered the room, what she saw shattered her heart. Mary Adler drowning her sorrows in alcohol. Sitting on the floor curled into herself as if trying to shield away the pain.

"Love, I'm so sorry". She whispered, her sympathy drowning her heart after she heard what had happened.

"He doesn't want me." She laughed hysterically. "He doesn't love me Pol." However it was not a laugh filled with humour, but one filled with heartbreak.

"Don't say that." The older woman told her sternly.

"He may still love you. He probably does. He probably doesn't know what he wants. He's probably even thinking about you right now. But that isn't what matters. What matters is what he's doing about it and that is nothing. And if he's doing nothing, you most certainly shouldn't do anything. Yes, he's my nephew, but you need someone who goes out of their way to make it obvious that they want you in their life." Polly tried to console the girl, holding her close.

"Maybe your happy ending doesn't even include a boy, maybe it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over. Freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is just moving on." She finished in a whisper.

"I can't move on. Not from this. But I have to remember. I just have to remember I loved him, but God loved him more."

A look of pure confusion crossed Polly's face.

"I'm so confused Pol. Which pains worse?" The silence of the small pause pulled on her heart. "The shock of what happened or the ache for what never will."

"Darlin' talk to aunt Pol, what are you talking about?" Polly was now afraid, her heart thumping. Mary's mumbling was unfathomable, like a mad woman.

"I didn't just loose Finn. I lost him too, I can't believe I lost him too." She whispered like a mantra screwing her eyes shut. Her sanity dissapearing at every word that spilled from her mouth.

"Who love?" Polly asked fear poisoning her veins.

"The baby Poll. I lost my baby." She whispered.

She had never felt so alone, so lost... So incapable of doing even the smallest tasks. And this was only the beginning, the beginning of the pain, the suffering and the endless congo line of emotions that were in store for her.

And all of a sudden she felt tired. Like the world had drained her for everything she had.

Maybe it had...maybe it had.