there was an inherent cruelty to angelwoods; trees that never blossomed, naked branches like blackened bones crawling feebly skyward, ghosts on every street corner, blink and they're gone, and a haunt of whispers following every wrong footstep one might make. susana didn't often look squarely at her demons. rather, she preferred the peculiarly svelte shape they took in the corners of her vision, where she could pretend they were some illustrious stranger silently admiring her beauty from afar. but here? in the very building that reared her into horrifying adulthood, into the monstress she became? it was impossible to ignore them; they cloaked her like a shawl, fending off sharp chills and instead instilling them from the inside, out.
and, yes, there was the inevitability of her. she didn't take center stage as she would've in life - susana imagines it bitterly now, how olive would've taken to the gymnasium stage and made some devastatingly profound speech about how far they've all come, would yell "cheers!" and the whole room would parrot it back to her like a loyal choir to their preacher - but instead, she'd only been afforded a poster-board propped up by an easel in the far corner of the darkened room. remembering olive myers. always our shining light. susie avoided its eye, and each time she accidentally caught it, she'd take a shot. her own little drinking game.
yet, there he was; the living, breathing, antithesis to his late twin, theo myers. as susie had fallen into olive's gravitational pull, she found herself falling easily into his, too. perhaps it was a twin thing. perhaps susana was just a terrible person, and couldn't leave dead enough alone. as she contemplated ignoring him, the smiths crooned over those same, ancient speakers, as though directly to her;
when you say it's gonna happen now,
when exactly do you mean?
see i've already waited too long,
and all my hope is gone.
susana frowned at the omniscient, sadistic deity that loomed over her, sending her all the wrong signs at the right times. she couldn't entirely blame otherworldly forces, though. didn't she always cave to herself in the end? she came up behind him and clipped his elbow, watching happily as his drink sloshed gracelessly onto his hand, his wrist, down at his feet. an angelic smile wreaked havoc on her face. "oh, oopsie." she cringed theatrically and shrugged. "guess we'll have to get you cleaned up," she glanced at whoever he'd been talking to and smiled, too sweet to be cruel-intentioned: right? "let's go!"
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