alexander & elizabeth mercer ↳ @dvnities
all things considered, talking to a headstone was just like talking to her parents. except, thankfully, it wouldn’t talk back. as the years passed, she worried that this piece of stone would be all that was left of him. a seven year old’s memories were fleeting, and mom and dad made sure to shove every piece of him she couldn’t salvage into boxes. just like they had done to her. her plaid skirt billows out around her, hardly lady like, but drowning in tears she could hardly care about niceties.
HERE LIES ALEXANDER MERCER , but what was even under the surface? what did that even mean? he didn’t have his drumsticks, his heart, his love of music. their parents had stuck him in a stuffy suit and placed a bible quote under his name even though they had made it very clear there was no place in the chapel for people like him. or her. maybe having little to no memories of him was best. her big brother was a clean canvas, he could be anyone or anything she needed, and right now she needed someone to talk to.
“ i brought you flowers, ” wiping her sweater sleeve across her face, libby sets the bouquet down, the only ones on his plot. “ i hope that wherever you are, you’re happy. and maybe you remember me? ” pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands, she shrugs, her hopeful smile only lasting seconds. “ it’s dumb, but sometimes i wish . . . you could talk back to me. tell me everything is going to be okay. tell me that there’s nothing wrong me. i mean, maybe there is something wrong with me. i’m talking to a rock, for god’s sake. ” even if he was speaking to her, she wasn’t sure she’d recognize his voice. “ i just wish you were here, alex. i wish i had more time with you. ”