Selvi R. - Hidden Paradise (Age 13)
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June inhaled the salty air around her. The air was warm, each breath filling her lungs with a soft embrace. She let her eyelids rest for a moment, a simple second to relish the moment around her.
It was an escape, one that welcomed her, ushered her in.
It was a door that opened once every afternoon, and closed the minute the sun set.
June opened her eyes and took advantage of her opportunity to run to the shore. The sand swallowed her foot with each step. She dropped her heavy tote bag, filled with books, sunscreen, and a fresh towel. She unbuckled her jean shorts, and sprinted at full speed to the ocean. She felt the seaweed slip from under her feet, she felt the sand grow tighter as she neared the water. Rigid shells poked the soles of her feet. June didn’t care. As long as she could be at the beach, as long as she could forget, she didn’t care at all.
She dove head first into a crashing wave. The water pulled her under, like a nagging little kid. She succumbed to the pressure, and let it wash her to the sand. She got tired of this process after a bit, and decided to swim.
June swam for half an hour, trying to avoid the incessant thoughts itching at her mind. She shoved her head underwater, observing the wildlife hidden beneath the crashing waves. She saw a school of fish, a family, find a resting spot in a piece of coral. They had a family to go home to. They had a home.
When June looked up, she noticed the sun started to sink beyond the horizon. An orchestra of pink and orange colored the afternoon sky.
June knew that soon it would be dark out. She swam to the shore, and grabbed her beach bag. She threw her jean shorts in and pulled out the towel. It was warm, having baked on the sand.
June scanned the foliage surrounding the cove - it was her hidden paradise. She recognized the small gathering of trees far off to her left, and shuffled towards it. She tore apart the trees to find a long, narrow staircase. She threw her bag under it, and hung her swimsuit on the rail, merely a towel to shield her.
June continued up the stairs to the front door, and pushed it open. Her house, her “home” was hollow. Pictures of her, of her with…it was all too painful.
They contributed to the facade of the house, the facade of a perfect family. The walls and portraits didn’t know what happened. They didn’t know she was gone.
June wished she didn’t know either.
