Alexisabelle: A Vignette

By Sophelia


When we were young...

Alexis, the shadow of Isabelle. Alexis, the one nobody noticed - average height, average looks, average personality (with the occasional spark that caused more trouble than admiration). Isabelle was tall and beautiful, cheerful and friendly, turning heads down the street like an electric fantasy. Why Isabelle chose to be her friend, nobody, not even Alexis, could understand.

Alexis was stubborn, independent, a non-comformist. She noticed how easily Isabelle could be swayed by others, a preening jade python entranced by the wave of the flute. Isabelle's inferior will power annoyed her to no end, but what could she do? Because polar differences aside, Alexis really did love Isabelle.

When you were still beside me...

The letters kept them together. In script they adopted new identities. They wrote of decaying butterflies, chains of daisies, throbbing flesh of the heart. It was this secret link - the exchange of darkly poetic letters - that kept them united.

Even then, the fear in Alexis remained. And eventually the fear manifested in flesh.

Right then, our minds cradled the same thoughts...

Alexis doesn't know Isabelle anymore. Her name is Isabelle but she is not Isabelle. Isabelle died in a memory, a photograph, a love letter.

Alexis can't remember where things went astray. Perhaps it was when the Nymph came and guided Isabelle towards the underground. Or perhaps it was when the letters stopped coming. Or maybe it was all just a gradual change, creeping up from behind so slowly that nobody noticed until it lurked right in front of their faces.

The Isabelle Alexis knows today is a patch-doll of rumors and gossip, sewn from scraps plucked from the grapevine. Each new patch sewn into the doll is just another jab of the needle into Alexis' heart. But she cannot stop herself from listening for news about Isabelle.

And right then, I was alive...

"She's been hanging out with the Nymph. It's no good. What happened to the Nymph anyway? She was so brilliant back then; and now she's smoking pot every day after school."

"She's been drinking. Especially at parties. She thinks he doesn't notice, but her father knows she's stealing his liquor."

"She only goes to school if she feels like it. Her mother is so busy that she's never noticed."

"They've definitely been smoking at the park. She was telling me how she threw up the first time she tried it."

"She went to that party last night. She was so drunk, and she started flirting aggressively with this guy from that other school. It was almost embarassing to watch her."

It was so easy being with you then...

Alexis knows. The alcohol and the drugs come first. She knows what comes next. But even then, in the back of the mind, there was the hope that underneath it all, the memory hibernated beneath. And when the final scrap was sewn and sealed the memory inside the new shapeless doll, that final hope crumpled to ashes.

"She was so drunk at that guy's last party, she couldn't even walk. She had to sleep in his bed for the night until the next morning.

And haven't you heard? She's already slept with two guys. I'm not even sure what happened, but the police got involved. And her mother found out and she was taken to a rape clinic."

It was so easy.

A/N: Based on a true story.

This was originally posted on my blog (link in my profile), but I've decided to post it on fictionpress. Originally, I planned to write a full-length story based on this idea, but I never pushed myself to write it. Let me know what you think.

- Sophelia