❝ I should’ve called ahead, texted — something. ❞
It’s as much of an apology as she can muster,
still severely tongue-tied when in the presence
of her very undead — formerly dead — never
dead best friend. Noted: girls on the run from dark
& unspeakable dangers don’t take kindly to surprises.
Better left for those with far less tragedy in their bones.
—— Did such a human even exist in Rosewood ?
She pictured herself at seven, hair strung into messy
pigtails as a paper hat was shoved onto her head;
familiar faces scream-singing, “ S U R P R I S E ! "
Even then, she’d run from it. Hidden herself from
the world and faked sick.
Maybe she couldn’t relate to dirt-coated lungs or shovel
happy mothers, but she knew what it was like to live in
a constant state of fear. To want to disappear whenever
the house settled.
With the click of the lock into place, she sat on one of the
chairs by the window, eyes glued to the wooden panelling,
the floral artwork, the closed drapes — anything to avoid
that steely gaze.
❝ I’m trying to keep my distance from him. From… us.
From all of that. ❞
Cut out the C A N C E R before it spreads, or something
like that. She was working on it. Didn’t matter that he’d
made a dent the size of the universe in her heart.
She’d fix it. Fill it with stars bright enough to burn him out.
Required further explanation ——
❝ I mean, with everything that’s happened recently,
we haven’t really had a chance to talk. I understand that
there are things you can’t talk about. That’s fine.
I guess I just needed to hear your voice
& I don’t mean over the phone. ❞
Her brows sculpted in a definite frown, permanently attached to her unjust fairness. Gaze resting with all its greed onto a motioning intruder, checking her movements--- v e r i f y i n g them. She still hadn't grown out of that, doubts superior to friendship. If any of them still considered it such enfantine way.
They weren't willingly sticking up to her, lying, dying, hiding, crying, fearing, manipulating, destroying their own lives for her. They were forced by the journey --- because no one else would understand, or merely believe them. Besides, they would feel culpable, letting a poor girl die. Even if she deserved it.
They weren't tied by friendship anymore---- but she was trying. Trying to revive it like she'd become the undead. Their bond, their fondness--- it would be resurrected. She was hoping so hard--- it had turned into a toxic expectation. Ali never apprehended, never wished, and never, oh never had faith. But with the girls, with her girls---- it was suddenly so different. So hard to be numb to them.
She often thought, that the strength that had made them last so long, was how they were genuinely liking each other, not talking in each other back like other groups of girls did. And she'd been, so, so, so proud of building this hurricane.
But now, now she realized, they didn't have that trust in her, they weren't fools anymore. They weren't strong. ---- And weirdly enough, she couldn't hold it together. Couldn't help it. Couldn't fix it with another mistake. She was the weakest link pretending not to appear as so.
Aria spoke up, her head jolting so slightly. There was a lot in it, slowly driving her to diverse topic else than the present. She'd been too fazed, catching but the last word of her sentence... ' that '. Probably unimportant. Unnecessary. Ali wanted them focused on surviving----------- on her. But when was this any different?
Her broken tone was aborted when Aria continued. Blonde locks draping over her face as she tilted her head down.
❛ I told you guys everything I could. You're aware of that? ❜
She understood her eagerness. She was all the same. But knowledge was the noose circling her neck. The lesser she knew--- the more chance she could get away. Compassion flashed on her features, Aria the helpless poetic, she just wanted to hear her voice, face-to-face.
Pretty ( yet empty ) words lured the rescued into hoping with more ardor. Aria needed to be careful, the pretty flowers in her minds would suffer from her own nuclear seasons, if she let them out.
Her fingers would pull on the petals one per one, she'll die, she'll live, she'll die, she'll live...
Alison was hesitant towards giving her any information, more so than of the others. Aria had episodes of fury-- she was impulsive and emotional. She couldn't help herself.
Her lips stretched in a lazy smile, glancing up to her baby face softly. She'd missed this thing about her. Her passion, her thing for diving head first in things that'd screw her up.
It pained Alison, how she now was so cautious around her. Dipping her toes in the pool of blood surrounding her. Stained red by crimes caused from her selfishness. Her stupidity. Alison was stupid.
Then, maybe she could let it out to Aria.
Do one more stupid thing.
❛ You know the only reason you're living this,
is because you all wanted my flag? ❜
The desire to know Aria's impression of that, it was burning like wildfire.
Her glance was teasing ---- but another sort of tease, it was a dare.
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