"Mia, I swear to God if you aren't down those stairs in five minutes I'm coming up there and so help me-"
Richard was an impatient man.. he was the type you wouldn't want to keep waiting. Pulling her hair into a loose bun, Mia dragged a jumper over her scrawny frame, practically sprinting down the stairs to her foster parents. She'd been here before; being late for church. She'd payed for it later of course, so the experience was something she'd rather not force upon herself. Holding onto the banister as she missed steps at a time to get to the hallway, her heart dropped into her stomach as she saw Richard waiting for her by the front door. He had a look of cold murder on his face, something Mia rarely saw but sadly knew what to expect when she saw it. He smiled then however, approaching her in what appeared to be a relaxed suit. He smelt clean, not overly scented as he stood before Mia, his hand reaching upward to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. It rested on her head for a few minutes before it fell behind her head, suddenly gripping a fistful as his face returned to rage.
"I warned you, you stupid girl."
Mia didn't scream as he pulled her by the hair towards the kitchen, biting her lip and drawing blood to stop herself because she knew how this would go. If she made any kind of noise, the punishment would double. Practically throwing her toward the floor, Mia stood, turning to face Richard as a thick, calloused face broke flat against her face. Bracing herself against the counter, the blonde's eyes began to water and her head rang like it was filled with church bells, but she didn't cry. She didn't do anything but return to the same position as before. Richard wasn't as bad as her true parents, given that he was actually nice to her the majority of the time. It was days like these however, when she slipped up and made a mistake that she had to pay for what she'd done.
"I'm going to church, Mia. You stay here and clean up your act. You know the verse we're on and I expect you to read it while I'm gone."
As he turned on his heel, the girl allowed herself a solemn tear before sobering herself up, turning to do the dishes while he was absent from the house. The hot soapy water was comforting against her hands, but she knew that it was the cold that her cheek longed for. After stacking the plates and drying the cutlery, Mia pulled a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and slid to the floor of the kitchen, holding them against the rouge swell of a hand-print that had nestled nicely into her skin. She'd read the Bible to herself quickly before he came home; she planned on cleaning the house and starting a dinner before Richard and his wife, Louise, returned home. Mia wasn't forced to cook and clean, but it left her brownie points on the subject and occasionally she'd be allowed amount of money for her efforts. Turning to the stove, she set to work on lighting it, peeling the vegetables ready for what could turn out to be a rather interesting evening.
"Write a self-para set in an Alternate Universe in which your character was never sent to Kingston, showing where they would be today without this experience."
"They're coming!" She hissed in return, jogging over to the serving hatch to grab the food before it went cold. With a frown on her lips, she walked over to the appropriate table and just placed it down, offering no kind words before trudging back over to the bar.
"What was that?" Henry whispered, having seen her rather cold brush off of the customers.
"Nothing." Faye mumbled in return, hands running through her hair as though she was about to rip it from it's roots.
"Look, Carlton... I know you have shit going on in your home life, and I know it's hard, but you can't bring it into work." He said, his voice soft but acting as a warning none the less.
Faye knew he was right of course. It'd been almost a year now since that night, and she couldn't afford to dwell on it for the rest of her life.
It'd acted as an isolator from everyone she loved. Every night she would remember her friends blood, splattered across the walls around her as she tried to hide from the masked gun man. She remembered the smell of their corpses, how if she ignored the coppery tinge in the air they almost smelt alive. But most of all, she remembered the fear she felt, and how she could only recall one other time in her life that she felt like this...
And that was something that she couldn't afford to think about.
So as the feelings got worse, she'd become more reserved. She'd started ignoring her Gran's calls, ducking those of her friends who were still alive, pretending like she had places to be... Faye had successfully cut herself off from the world around her, and she had no intention of changing that.
"Yeah.." She eventually replied, looking back up at Henry. "I know. M'sorry.. I'll get back to work." She stated softly, before standing from her barstool and attending to business.
The rest of the night passed by pretty quickly. The diner was near enough empty, so there wasn't much that needed doing. All the same, Faye volunteered to lock up for the night, finding comfort in having something to focus on.
But once that was over, and she was no longer needed at work, she began to short walk home to her apartment. After the shooting Faye had dropped out of University, finding the place to be a constant reminder of what had happened. Instead she just focused on her job as a waitress, perhaps studying in her free time if she found any, so the option of returning to her education wasn't thrown completely out of the window.
Arriving back at the one bedroom flat, Faye's first task was to apply all seven of her locks to the front door, quickly followed by grabbing one of the many bottles she hid under her sink and taking a lengthy swig. These days alcohol seemed to be the only answer to many of her problems.
Sighing as the warm liquid ran through her body, she kicked her sneakers off and walked through to the bathroom. It was here where she kept the anti-depressants prescribed to her, not that they helped at all. All the same, she opened her bathroom cabinet and got the little bottle out, popping two of the green and yellow pills into her hand before downing them with another mouthful of vodka.
It was as she tipped her head back that she noticed it, sitting on the edge of her bathtub. Her razor.
Every night she would stare at it as she was doing now, and every night she would recite to herself all the reasons why she should do it. The first being that her life would never get any better. It would never improve from this point onwards, and she knew this to be a fact. The second was that no one would miss her. Perhaps her Gran, but the two of them hadn't talked in so long she'd probably pull through anyway... And the third, and probably most important reason of all, was that Faye just didn't want to live any more.
So with shaky hands, she reached forward and grabbed the razor, slipping the blade out of it's holder. She stood with it pressed to her wrist, willing herself to press it into her soft flesh.
"Please, please, please, please..." She softly murmured, desperate for the release it'd bring.
But just like every other night, Faye just couldn't do it. She couldn't take her own life.
With a sigh, she just dropped the blade in her sink before grabbing the clear alcohol once more, resigning herself to another lonely night.
If she was lucky, tomorrows attempts would be a little more successful.
Sew this up with threads of reason and regret so I will not forget. I will not forget how this felt one year six months ago. I know I cannot forget. I cannot forget..
One and a half years. Eighteen months. Seventy-eight weeks. Five-hundred and forty seven days. Thirteen thousand one hundred and forty eight hours. Seven hundred and eighty-eight thousand nine hundred and twenty-three minutes.
Darla kept count of every moment that past. “Soon,” she whispered as her slender, milky-white finger slowly traced alone the spine of her desk phone. It had been a year and a half since she last saw Margot. It had been a year and a half since she saw the other women and held her briefly in an embrace right before she took her last box out of their apartment. It had been a year and a half since she last saw her face in living color. It had been a year and a half since everything crumbled into her lap.
Every six months, it was this same feeling: a feeling of regret for not trying harder or for not fighting for it more. Darla couldn’t believe it was all over each time six months had passed. She leaned back in her chair as stared at the ceiling. Her eyes slowly scanned the each tile, counting them in each row. Before she knew it, her mind was somewhere else…
I’m falling into memories of you and things we used to do. Follow me there, a beautiful somewhere, a place that I can share with you…
February 14 2011
Darla was lucky enough to have early class on this particular Valentines Day. It was all planned out. Everything was going to be perfect. Margot was getting off of work at five, just in time for her to hit the rush hour transit traffic. That Darla enough time to set up everything. You see, Margot hated Valentines Day. She, like most other people, felt that the holiday was pointless. "Darla, I don't need one day to show you that I love you. I show you it every day." But for Darla, the holiday was different. It wasn't just about showing Margot that she loved her. It was more. It was something that Darla couldn't pin point exactly. Valentine's Day was just special to her, no rhyme or reason.
Quickly, she tied the strings of her apron around her waist and set to work. Darla Sterling began the quest to make the best French dinner Margot Beaumont had ever tasted. Admittedly, she wasn't the best cook ever but, she could follow directions. She grabbed ingredients for her first course, a Provençal Vegetable soup to set the mood. Rapidly, her knife moved across each vegetable, annihilating everything in it's path. Darla turned around and dropped the veggie bits into the boiling broth just as Margot walked through the door. Wide eyes stared at the french woman who was home five hours too early.
Darla stepped in front of the pot as if she was trying to block the other's view. "Wh-what are you doing home so early?" If looks could kill, Darla would have been dead in an instant. Something was terribly wrong. Margot shift her gaze, looking past Darla. "I left work early," she said coldly. "Is that a crime?"
"No. I just, I wasn't expecting you home so early. I had a Valentines Day surprise for you." Margot roughly walked across the small studio loft and yanked out a chair from the kitchen table. "I told you already, I didn't want to do any of that shit. Christ Darla. Don't you ever listen." Darla stood there silently as the tension thicken in the room.
Taken a few steps forward, she gathered enough courage to finally ask Margot another question. "How was work?" The other girl rested her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hand. "Great. Fucking fine Darla. Tomorrow, work will be even better when I don't go." Darla was confused by the cryptic meaning of the others words. "What?"
"I was fired Darla. Fired. F. I. R. E. D." She was still very confused about this. "Why?" The french woman sighed heavily looking up at the other. "I don't fucking know. They said that they didn't need me there anymore and that more egocentric attitude was not welcomed in their gallery. Can we just not talk about it anymore. Shit."
Slowly, Darla walked over to Margot and grabbed her hands. "You know, they didn't deserve you then and not just saying that because I'm your girlfriend. I'm saying it because I mean it. You have a keen eye for art and you know what good. If they don't want someone like that there, then it's their loss."
Margot's angry expression softened to a slight smile. She stood up and unwrapped the apron from around Darla's waist tossing it behind her, never seeing where it had landed. Gently she rested her hands on the other's hips and drew her closer. "I'm sorry D. I didn't mean to be so short with you." Darla wrapped her arms around the other's torso and smiled. "I know. I love you Margot." Leaning in, she planted a firm kiss on her lips before inhaling deeply. "Do you smell that?"
The french woman's eyes jutted open as she pushed Darla out of the way. Margot ran to the stove and yanked the ditched apron off of the stove. Immediately she stomped out the flames. Everything was silent for a few moments before simultaneous laughter erupted. Margot walked over to Darla, and picked her up. "Come on. Let's take a little nap before we go out to eat. We should work up an appetite so we can get our money's worth."
That was the first time, but certainly not the last time that their stove had been set on fire.
I can tell that you don't know me anymore. It's easy to forget, sometimes we just forget and being on this road is anything but sure. Maybe we'll forget, I hope we don't forget...
Present Time.
Darla finally found the courage to pick up the phone and began dialing. It was the same number that it had always been. Or at least she hoped so. Anxiously, she waited. Ring. Ring. Ring. Darla could feel her heart racing quicker than it had ever. Ring. Ring. Ring. Nothing. Nothing but voicemail.
"Bonjour! This is Margot Beaumont..." Her heart fluttered quickly as she heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line. However the slight euphoria turned to heartbreak. "And Claire Rudd. We're not available right now so please leave us your name and number and we'll get back to you. Au revoir!"
She slammed the phone back down on the receiver and stepped away from her desk. Tears slowly glided down her cheeks. How? How could Margot move on? Darla couldn't even move on completely. Sure, she had moved on slightly. Darla could enjoy the company of Max, if he were around. But she still never stopped loving Margot. She probably would never stop loving her.
Taking a few deep breaths, Darla wiped her face and smiled. It was time for work now. She had to put on a happy face and deal with her issues later. It was what it was and she would work through it. She would always work through it.
All that I've got to pull me through is memories of you, memories of you...
I don't care what you're thinking, I don't care what you're saying.
That may be the one thing left to do, but it didn't mean that Jared was doing it. To be honest, Jared had plotted out couple of escape routes the first day he ever arrived in Kingston, but he wasn't willing to act on them just yet. There were bigger things to sort out, and yes, that would mean swallowing his pride and attempting to apologize, and those were two things Jared never did.
Let's just make things work, There's nowhere better then this.
Jared didn't believe in remorse, especially not apologizes, but it was what was something that needed to be done. Not for the sake of it, but he was actually trying to fix things. And he knew it wasn't going to work out well, nothing ever did. But at least he was willing to try, right?
Not likely. Even with pure intentions Jared was still Jared, and that always got him stuck in sticky situations. Though most of the time, Jared was a walking contradiction. Plan, plot, think things through. Maybe he did those things most of the time, but never with his words. And that was what had gotten him here today. Too bad he was terrible at apologies, mainly because he never gave them.
When everything is gone, we'll still be begging for more.
What if it was all in vain? The thought sprang into his mind and he just shrugged and shook his head. So his efforts were thrown back into his face, he was pretty sure that was what was going to happen anyway. Maybe even a little violence, he was prepared for all of that. But even when things ended, he had a habit of wanting more. Too bad Kate was just as stubborn as he was.
Jared felt like a fool. A complete and utter idiot. Like a love struck teenager, chasing after a girl. That was not him, it was never him. But he wanted to know if he could still fix it. Maybe not to where it was before, but he needed one friend in here. Hopefully, it would be her.
Woke up and wished that I was dead, with an aching in my head. I lay motionless in bed. I thought of you and where you'd gone and let the world spin madly on...
She needed something to do, something to turn those slow minutes into quicker hours. Her head turned slightly as the image came into view. Luke. Luke Petrelli. She had stolen the picture from his room a while back, back before things went South, before the times got dark. Sure, it was a creepy thing to do. She was well aware of that, but she didn't care. It was a reminder of the boy. It was a reminder of all that they had. Katrina closed her eyes slowly drifting between consciousness and sleep, wondering where he was at the moment...
Everything that I said I'd do, like make the world brand new and take the time for you. I just got lost and slept right through the dawn and the world spins madly on...
Harsh thoughts swept through her tired mind. All the promises that they made to each other, all the promises that she made to him, all the promises that he made to her. They were all broken. She tried so hard to keep them. She tried so hard to make them happened. Katrina just couldn't. It was too hard to stay on track. It was too tiring to make things happen on her own. She wanted so badly to make all of them happen. Katrina wanted to do whatever it took for him to be happy. She wanted to do whatever it took for him to feel better. That's all. Katrina wanted to be selfless in all the wrong ways. It was too the point where she would have given everything up, just for him to be happy. But it would never be enough...
I let the day go by. I always say goodbye. I watch the stars from my window sill. The whole world is moving and I'm standing still...
Katrina opened her eyes after what felt like mere moments. Her head was still turned in the direction of the picture. The day had finally passed, just like she wanted it too. Her eyes slowly crossed over to the window, a bright star catching her attention. It's brightness out shined the rest of the stars in the sky. A wishing star. That's what Katrina needed. She didn't need the wish necessarily. She just needed the hope that it was possible for her wish to come true. In nothing above a whisper, she muttered, "Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight; I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."
Slowly, she inhaled a deep breath and thought of all the possibilities. Katrina could have been selfish. There were so many selfish wishes floating around in her head. I wish someone would love me. I wish Luke would love me. I wish everything would get better for myself. All of those things would have satisfied every need that she had but none of them were what she wanted. There were more important things going on in the little world that was Kingston. People were dying. People were going to be born. Patients were hurting from the past and patients were hurting from what the future was going to hold for them. She didn't need the wish nor did she need the hope, not as much as they did. Katrina exhaled and quietly released her wish for the world. "I wish that everyone would be okay. I know they all can't be happy, but I just want them to be okay."
Woke up and wished that I was dead with an aching in my head. I lay motionless in bed. The night is here and the day is gone and the world spins madly on...
The pitch black of the night had taken over the blue sky, leaving no remains of the day. It was almost impossible to believe that just a few hours ago, birds were out and the sun was up. Katrina lived the whole day almost in a slumber, trying to easy the pain and guilt that she had for things that she had done or that she had said. It was no way to live her life but there wasn't much else that she wanted to do. The world was moving on and she was still stuck just like she always was, just like she always would be. But it was no reason for the rest of the world to be stuck. The world, it spun. It spun madly on and it never had any intentions of stopping for her or anyone else for that matter. Katrina wasn't going to interfere with that anymore.
Katrina looked at Luke's picture one last time before grabbing the frame and hugging it close to her chest. One more day of crying and praying for change was all she needed. If nothing happened and if he never came back to her, she would get off her sorry ass. She would get up and try to make the world a better place for everyone because that's all she could do. She was going to do the best that she could to get over her own feelings and help the world in it's quest to spin madly on...
I thought of you and where you'd gone and the world spins madly on...
hey, don't write yourself off yet. it's only in your head you feel left out, or looked down on.
Faye sat in her living room, watching her infant brother roll around giggling on the floor. For the last two days now he'd been all she had for company. Jasper was working 24/7, those who she called friends were busy with their own lives, and her Mom... Well, she hadn't been seen since the first night she arrived.
She'd always known there'd be an argument when they first got here. Afterall, her husband had kind of been murdered by a man she believed to be dead, and it was all down to Faye. She was to blame... So it was never going to go down well.
live right now. yeah, just be yourself. it doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else.
But the best part wasn't that her mother had gone AWOL. It wasn't that she was probably laying drunk in a gutter right now... And it wasn't that before her grand disappearance, she'd made it perfectly clear that Faye was as good as dead to her.
It was that Faye couldn't bring herself to care. You see, she'd stopped caring a long time ago what other people thought of her. It took her a while, almost twenty years in fact, but she'd realised that their opinion of her didn't matter. She didn't need to approval of people who didn't love her, and least of all from a woman who had failed her in every way imaginable. She just needed those who she had now. They were the ones who really mattered.
it just takes sometime, little girl you're in the middle of the ride, everything everything will be just fine, everything everything will be alright.
So Faye smiled softly as she watched her baby brother playing with his toys. She sat there and thought of the good in her life. Of her insane friends and how they never failed to be the light in her life. Of her family and how eight months ago it had been non-existent, but now it was stronger than ever... And finally, she thought of her husband. Her goofy, trouble-prone, perfect husband, and how he managed to save her.
The way Faye saw it, life had a beginning and an end, but those parts don't really matter. It's the middle that counts for something.
And now she thought about it, her middle was becoming pretty perfect.
More often than not, I find myself thinking about you, where you are, how you're doing, what you're feeling, who's laying beside you and if you love them more than you ever loved me. But then I have to remind myself that you're not mine anymore and I am no longer yours...
Enough about the mushy stuff and all the returners remorse. I think you'd love England. There's so much to see. So much to photograph. So much to paint. It's a really wonderful place to be. Work is wonderful. My patients are the sweetest. There's one named Max that I'm completely enamored with. He's just interesting. Maybe it's because he reminds me so much of my father in his later years. He smells just like him too which is comforting. He's a musician and a jerk. He constantly smokes in my office and tries to burn holes in my carpet which is actually how me started talking I guess. But it was all up hill from there. He uh...took...my...you know...yeah. I'll just leave it at that.
I also met another patient named Luke. He's interesting as well. He reminds me of Harlan...a lot. Like seriously, it's like Harlan died and his spirit ended up in Luke's body which is impossible because Luke is like five years younger than us. But anyway, he's another one I've connected to. I probably annoy the shit out of him with my constant questioning and harassment but he hasn't whole-heartedly told me to go away. Plus, I think I'm the only therapist he's talked to since he's been here. Can you just imagine how honored I am? To be someones first therapist? And the way we talking is just so...I don't know how to describe it. The conversation is just so fluid. We just work well when it comes to speaking. It's like we're old friends or something. It's strange.
Anyway, I'm late for a session and I must cut this letter short. I hope all is going well and that you can find it in your heart to write me back even if it's just to tell me to fuck off. I miss you. A lot.
