Tara Olsen

"I am the storm, I am the storm. I am the storm, so wait..." TARA OLSEN TWENTY-FIVE FREELANCE REPORTER & HACKTIVIST MEDIUM [ mobile navigation ]

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

When he finally managed to get her to his bike, Al fumbled with his coat, his own bones still weak and nimble after the emotional experience he and Tara had defeating that phantom. Hesitantly, he put it around Tara’s shoulders and even got her in it somehow, though it hadn’t been easy. She wasn’t quite responding to his movements, or the things he was handing to her. Next he put the helmut on top of her head and strapped it on. Thank God he’d been able to persuade her to get onto the bike, but her body was still so weak. He winced when her arms limply went around his torso, cuts stinging from any sort of contact or even just being exposed to the air. He was jacketless in the rain, and didn’t have a spare helmut for himself. Fuck, he better not crash this thing. 

Carefully, Al held onto Tara’s arms that limply laid rested against his torso. Most of her weight was on his back as she slumped over, her body shivering slightly, he guessed from the cold. Even with his jacket over her body, it still had to be freezing with the wind blowing all around them and the rain drenching their clothes. Finally, by some God given fucking miracle, they made it back to her place. When he got off the bike, he was sure to hold onto Tara and helped her step down as he turned off his engine and set up the kick stand. They were already inside the building by the time he got the helmut and his jacket off of her, and he knew stairs weren’t an option for her right now. Fighting through the pain, Al lifted Tara and carried her up to her apartment the rest of the way. “Tara, the key,” he said once they finally made it upstairs, his back roughly falling into the adjacent wall. Surely she’d be getting some complaints from her neighbors later, but the exhaustion came over him all at once. 

He was breathing heavily and not at all somehow, and it felt like the room around them was caving in. Al cursed under his breath as Tara finally managed to get the door open. When they took a view steps in, memories began to flood in like a tidal wave, and he felt like he might be sick. He coughed loudly and grasped the entry way as if he may fall over, because honestly, he might. As he gripped the door frame, Al lookeed at Tara and saw that she was nowhere near in a condition to process anything around her. Obviously saving his life had taken its toll on her, and he understood why, seeing as even he was surprised by her actions. I thought you hated me, he wanted to say, but didn’t, knowing it was a stupid and considerate thing to ask at a time like this. Slowly, Al took a deep breath and began to move into Tara’s apartment. First thing he grabbed was a towel from her bathroom, and he hated it to her, making sure she gripped it first before he went into her bedroom and get some things for her to change into. He placed those on the arm of her couch before he turned around and went to her. 

In his hands was a jacket, a jacket he’d left there long before they’d actually broke up. Actually, he’d been looking for this days ago and thought he might have left it here. To his surprise, it was still here. Al sighed, looking at the jacket in his hands, and then back up at Tara. She’d kept it…what the fuck did that even mean? He’d seen more of his stuff in a box in her closet, why the fuck she’d put them there, he had no idea. In his mind, there’d been no chance of ever getting those back. So…he just left it there. He left the box there because it gave him hope, hope he didn’t deserve to have but still held onto because he loved her. God, he still fucking loved her because how could he not? She was everything to him…and he didn’t deserve it. Not in the slightest. “I’m gonna go. You…you have my number. I set some clothes down for you to wear over there, just…take care of yourself, okay?” What else was there left to say? He couldn’t stay, he could apologize again but to what avail? He killed Becca, there was no taking that back, Al knew it too. So, he picked up his helmut and the soaked jacket, and he turned to leave. As he made his way to the door, dripping wet, Al paused, looking back at her one last time. “Bye, Tara.” This time, he actually meant it. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he’d do his best to stay away from her. Out of sight, out of mind. Because she didn’t need more moments like this where she broke down and couldn’t function because of it. He couldn’t let that happen…so he wouldn’t. 

If someone asked her to give an accurate recount of everything that happened from the moment Alphonsed helped her get on his bike to the moment he asked for the keys to open her apartment, Tara wouldn’t have been able to do it. She was fully on automatic pilot, slipping in and out, even though she never fully lost consciousness. Her body was tired, her mind was tired, and the girl just felt like she would collapse at any given moment. She fumbled to get her key out and once she managed to do so, the professor helped her open the door.

Like an automaton, the medium moved in, almost having to drag her feet to move but she managed to make it to her couch. Hell, she wanted to sleep, wanted to cry some more, wanted to scream at the top of her lungs... but all she did was sit there, quiet and broken and weak. She didn’t even fully process that Al was walking around, getting stuff, leaving them by her side. It was only until she heard his voice that her eyes shifted to look at something else other than that lost point ahead of her. She glanced down and saw the clothes he’d left for her to change into. It was a small, thoughtful gesture that almost reminded her of their good days, of those countless times Alphonse did something to look out for her. Finally she looked up at him and it nearly broke her all over again to see her own pain reflected in those dark eyes. “Bye” she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. Neither of them could deny the weight such an exchange had, the air of finality of it all.

Tara didn’t look away as he turned, walking away, probably forever. “Al” she said before any rational thought could stop her from letting his name escape her. “We... we have to talk about it” she told him, somehow managing to infuse a hint of determination into her words in spite of looking like a shattered girl that had been crying her eyes out earlier. God knows if talking to him about it would do her any good, but it was one possible path to find some goddamn peace after this hellish months. The whole things would just keep eating away at her until she there was true closure. Tara’s intention wasn’t necessarily towards a path of forgiveness, it was towards one of understanding. Not everything was black and white, and she just needed to understand.

For once Alphonse Bellard would have really be honest about everything with her, in spite of how much the truth would hurt. So she would call him when she was ready. It probably wasn’t going to be tomorrow or the day after it. She might call him in a week or a month from now, but she would call him.

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

The ghostly touch of her hand on his wound as she healed him sent shivers down his spine. The warmth he’d felt there…and the sheer pain…when she’d healed him, it was like for a moment they were somehow connected. Their hearts, their minds, their souls, everything about them had intertwined and meshed together, and as did the emotions that came with it. They’d withdrawn from each other probably for similar reasons as they both looked extremely shaken after the experience. Worst of all he was left with this empty feeling, and could still feel her palm against his chest. His skin ached for the warmth in a very selfish way. He even craved it at night sometimes when he thought about her for too long, or turned over in bed only to realize her spot was empty. His body just contantly ached, and in his mind were voices, voices he couldn’t shut up. Killer, they said. Murderer, they screamed. His heart, well that…that was unmendable. Al wasn’t sure there was anything left to give anyone else since he’d given it all and surrendered it completely to Tara. 

His body shuddered and sunk into the wall behind him. The phantom was gone, yet the feelings remained. Al found himself unable to move for a minute, paralyzed by the raw emotions his body was experiencing. He’d never felt this much grief, not even when his mother has passed away. Why? Because when she died he’d barely known her, barely even heard her speak and most of his life was spent trying desperately to understand her. Why had he been born? Why had she let him live with such tainted blood, as the product of an assault? Perhaps it was in his nature to be inherently bad. That part of him he’d tried to cut out, the part of him that killed to get closer to his mother, that was his father. The part of him that hurt Tara and killed Becca, that was also his father. Al let out a nervous breath, tears staining his cheeks amongst the blood and dust covering his skin. He was sure he must look like a madman. 

“Go.” He said again, though his words were labored and a bit breathy. Al didn’t feel like himself, he felt miles away from his body and yet when his eyes set on hers he could feel himself coming back. First his fingertips, then his arm, which made it’s way to the rest of his body and he was sitting up a bit, making his way towards her. Something in him just snapped back, like the Al that had been Tara’s boyfriend took over. When he went to her it was like he’d never told her of his crimes, of his sins. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this and still has movements were hesitant as he let his hand rest on the side of her neck. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry okay? I’m so sorry, Tara.” Al said again as one of his hands went to wrap around her waist to pull her up. This wasn’t him apologizing for what he’d done, because he knew there wasn’t enough words he could say to express just how sorry he was for that…but he was apologizing for what he was about to do. They had to get the hell out of here before that damn thing gained more energy and came back. 

“Come on, we have to get out of here. We have to move. We have to.” He repeated again and again, more so for himself as his bones ached and screamed from underneath his skin as he practically carried her out to the parking lot towards his bike. “I’ll get you home, okay? I’ll get you home and away from you, alright, you never have to see me again after this okay? I’ll make sure of it, just please get on so I can take you home.” The man pleaded, hoping to fucking God she’d get on. 

She was stupid and she was weak. The last remaining bit of her rational mind screamed that at her because the phantom wasn’t vanquised, not really. The supernatural being was gone for now but it could return at any given moment. It could come back to feed on all of her energy, feast on yet another medium as those creatures did. But the girl still didn’t move, she just stayed curled up in herself and cried. Hell, she couldn’t even tell what had drained her more, the exertion from the magic she’d used or the horrible emotional turmoil that had finally broken her down. If she hadn’t been so deep in her own pain, so out of everything else going on around her, she would have been able to tell it was definitely the latter.

Her head hurt from crying so much and even breathing became harder, it felt like she was choking on her own sobs. She barely registered when Alphonse reached out to her. Her body was still shaking, tears still streaming down her face, and her trance-like state of aching isolation finally shattered as he pulled her up. She looked at him with confusion, her clouded mind recognizing again where she was and what had happened after shutting herself into her own emotional suffering. God, she felt so limp and weak. Even taking a step felt like a difficult feat. She was just so, so tired. She felt distant from her own self, heavier than ever before, like her body had somehow atrophied and couldn’t move on its own. It felt like some strange sickness had taken over her and Tara was sure she would stay in bed for days after this.

Everything happened in a daze. The professor got her out, somehow managing to get her feet to cooperate and move. She just wanted to close her eyes, she wanted to sleep on and on. God, why was she this tired? His voice brought her back when she pleaded for her to get onto his motorcycle and Tara just gave a light nod as a response. He had to help her get on. Al drove them out of that place and she was just dead weight leaning against his body for the whole of the ride. Her arms were limply wrapped around him. Her hold was so weak that one of Al’s hands locked around her wrists to make sure she wouldn’t let go and fall. He kept her steady and her eyes just closed.

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

Tiring out the phantom didn’t seem all that simple considering it might take a while to tire it out, which meant tiring them out as well. Al’s powers were already weaker because he hadn’t practice alchemy in months. Who knew what alcohol could do to Tara’s abilities as a medium…with all of these handicaps in their way it seemed almost impossible to come out of this unscathed. Something was going to go horribly wrong. And then, it did. 

The phantom disappeared again after it’d blown through the barrier Al had sculpted from the bar’s floor boards, and was no where in sight. Al laid practically writhing in pain from the splintered wood being lodged into his shoulder. It hurt like hell, and was almost worse than being shot. He shuddered as a wave of pain pulsed through him again and he winced rather than yelled, trying desperately to make his way over to Tara. It was bad, he knew it was bad because of the pain, but he felt there was also no sense in expecting the woman that hated him to heal him. She’d done it once without the knowledge that he’d killed her sister, and he was sure there was no way in hell she’d do it a second time knowing he did what he did all that time ago. Yet..

One of his hands came up as if to stop her once Tara finally slid over to the spot pooled with his own blood. Al’s head shook as she told him to hang on, his lips barely mumbling out the word ‘no,’ as she began to ritual to heal him. Then, there was the crying. Al’s heart twisted in knots and he felt sick, like he might vomit on the spot from the amount of pain he saw in her eyes. She hated him, she loved him still, he could see it there evident in her features as she healed him. Don’t, he wanted to say, leave me to die. Let me go, was his next thought, thinking that oblivion must be better than this, than watching the love of his life cry and hurt as much as she did. When he finally felt the pain subside, he slide away abruptly, as if he’d been attacked. His chest moved up and down quickly, and as he reached up to touch his cheeks, he felt a wetness there that wasn’t just blood. Mixed in the red hues were tears. When he’d began crying, he had no clue, but somewhere in between the healing process and now he had. 

The next thing he knew, Tara was drawing yet more symbols, and then she stood ready for the next attack. Al stayed sitting, a little stunned from what had just transpired between them, his chest still moving up and down rather rapidly. He didn’t have much time to think when the phantom reappeared, and rather than see it he could just feel its presense there. The glow that had once come from Tara’s hand erupted again as she aimed it at the phantom, hitting it dead on. It’s dark, smoke-like form began to writhe and screech as wood and glass began to rise around them. The items began to sweep up into a tornado-like formation, shards of glass cutting at their skin and wood scratching at their clothes. Though he was weak, Al put both of his palms up and he got up to his feet, struggling through the tornado-like destruction to create a sort of barrier between the chaos and him and Tara. He used the wind from outside coming in through the windows to blow the material back. A scream erupted from his lips as he used the last of his energy and strength to shove glass, wood and other debris out the windows and away from them. The glow from Tara’s palm persisted, as did the wind from Al’s when finally, everything fell silent. 

Somehow, the phantom had worn itself down and disappeared with one last yell in pain. The debris that had been whipping around them fell, and most of it had gone out the windows onto the street due to Al’s alchemy. His body gave out soon after as he fell to his knees, breathing heavily, and tasted blood on his lips. Sweat dripped down his brow, and the sheer exhaustion of it all took over as his hands fell out in front of him but could barely hold him up. “Is it gone?” He managed to ask, his eyes barely looking up to meet Tara’s as he finally laid his back up against a stable wall. They needed to get out of there now before it decided to come back, but he felt his legs may give out if he tried to stand. “You need to get out of here before it comes back.” Hopefully he had some time to at least gain a sliver of energy back so he could ride his bike home. Right now, though, that seemed unlikely. 

Alphonse’s wound was healed and she couldn’t allow herself to consider whether or not doing that had been a mistake. Perhaps it had been and she would come regret it one day. Perhaps it was just further prove of the deeply fucked up person she’d become, saving twice the man who shattered her life. But her hands weren’t meant to kill, to let lives slip away. There was a time she thought she could have killed her sister’s killer, regardless of him having Al’s face or not. Maybe the one thing that wasn’t entirely broken and wrong about her was that certainty she’d found along the way since coming to this city. She didn’t end lives, she saved them. Tara Olsen knew she was no hero, she wasn’t one of the easily categorized ‘good guys’ of a story either, but she used her power, her magic, for something good. Saving Al’s life was an action tightly wrapped with layers upon layers of confusion and complexity her mind and heart could hardly process, but her magic had been used for good.

The phantom had to be defeated and her hazy mind in her tipsy state held on to that. The medium just that to cling to her purpose here before she fell apart completely. She didn’t look at the alchemist by her side, she just used her magic again against the shadow-cloaked figure. It was a whirlwind of power inside the pub. Light shot out of her hand as she screamed. Elements were alchemically controlled and transformed to attack their opponent. It tried to defend itself by hurling more glass and wood towards them, but in the end it vanished with a pained screech.

Tara’s hand lowered when it ended and she collapsed to the floor, stunned and tired. Little pieces of glass and wood were scattered around them like shrapnel. She’d been cut by some and she knew the professor had as well. He spoke and she saw the same on his face that was reflected in her own. Tears and blood and pain. It was excruciating to see him as a mirror of herself. “It’s gone” she confirmed, no longer sensing the presence of the phantom. When he spoke Tara just rolled her lips, trying to contain a sob and nodded, unable to speak as a sob shook her whole. It was time to go but she couldn’t find it in herself to get up. She just leaned back against the upturned table that provided cover earlier and buried her face between her hands, regardless of the cut in one of her palms and the blood-drawn circle in the other. All this time she had tried to keep it together, she had tried to keep some degree of composure even with the alcohol in her system. But that act could never last long because she was fully shattered, a living and breathing broken human that couldn’t hide her sharp edges for too long. Hell, she just wanted to disappear right now, all she wanted was for everything to disappear. She just wanted it all to stop.

[tara-olsen]

I'm curious. What hurts more? Thinking you should hate him, or knowing you don't?

[ x ]

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[tara-olsen]

JAMES BLUNT - “ALWAYS HATE ME”

I never meant to hurt you It's just something I do I guess it's not a good excuse

And she will always hate me No matter what I say And there is no mistaking The love is gone

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

When they first met, Tara’s drinking had been slightly out of hand, sure, but this…he’d never seen it this bad before. In the months leading up to their falling out when they were together, her drinking was almost non existent. Sure, they’d both have a couple beers at dinner time, maybe some in the afteroon as well, but that had been the only time he hadn’t seen Tara wasted. What he’d done to her, the lying, the deciet…killing the only person she had left in her life, it was unexcuseable. It was unforgivable. Alphonse knew there was nothing he could do to mend what they had, and he couldn’t change the horrible things he had done. But he could honor Becca and maybe even Tara by making sure she didn’t kill herself taking on this phantom. That was the thought that kept him here now, with her, even though the gilt was practically eating him alive. 

So, to the best of his abilities, Al ignored her commented and pushed through it. He kept the voices in his head at bay, and the guilt rising in his chest faltered a bit knowing he had to give it his all right now so that phantom couldn’t get to her. Behind her glazed, drunken stare, he could see the anger behind it. Her rage continued to fuel his guilt, his self hatred, and definitely made him want to drink. “Fine,” he said back with a light nod, turning his attention back towards where he’d spotted the phantom last. Somewhere between fighting with Tara, putting up the barrier, and getting bottles thrown at them every which way, it’d moved. His eyes scanned the room and saw a flash of black smoke-like movements coming from the corner of the bar. Obviously it was trying to plan an attack, and probably a way to get to Tara. 

 “I know that, we just need to take it out long enough to get it the hell away from here.” He knew more about mediums than he’d first let on, obivously, and he’d even read about them in some of the books he’d picked up from Oliver. What he didn’t know much about, was the people who called themselves ‘Tuners.’ He knew of them, but not much about them other than the fact that they were the ones that could sent phantoms back to the stream. Again, he’d never actually met one, so he wouldn’t really know. Al snorted a little when Tara rattled off her plan, looking down for a moment beforehe shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds perfectly fine to me.” Yeah, let me just used my fucked up magic, that’s great. Alchemy wasn’t fucked up, he was fucked up, and there was a difference. With all the force he could muster, Al began to put up another layer of boards around them, wood ripping from the ground once his illuminated palm pressed against it. Tara went in for another spell using the blood circle she’d drawn, but his attention turned to her when she cursed. 

“Wh-” The boards that had made a way blocking them from the phantom suddenly ripped in two. Somehow, much to Al’s surprise, the phantom has ripped through them, causing several splintered pieces of wood to fly up all around them. “Tara!” He yelled, just before the phantom’s body crashed into his. Al found his body being pushed against the closest wall, with his back smashing against the wooden surface. His head hit the back of the wall hard, and he felt a bit dizzy when he finally sunk back to the ground, his body going a bit limp. “Fuck,” he breathed out, wincing when he shifted, only to feel something had lodged itself into his left shoulder. He was almost certain it was a splintered piece of wood, and sure enough when he looked, it was just that. “Tara, fuck…” He said weakly, desperately trying to move forward so he could get to her. With a quick flick of his wrist, his rune lit up and the piece of wood lodged into his shoulder was ripped out. Through gritted teeth, he fused a nearby rag to his shoulder to keep the wound from bleeding out. 

The timing was just wrong for a phantom to attack  on night when she was slightly less than drunk but definitely more than tipsy. It was also terrible timing that on the same night she would run into Alphonse Bellard of all people, but oh well, aparently her bad karma was just throwing one hit after the other. It wasn’t easy being in the same room as him because all her emotions just got more tangled up than they were and right now wasn’t the time for it. Tara sounded annoyed and resigned when she agreed to work through this with the professor, but the truth was that his alchemy actually was rather useful in keeping them protected.

“It won’t go away because I’m here” she snapped back. That thing wanted to feed on her energy, her life. Or it wanted to take hold of her, possess her. Tara wasn’t sure which was the phantom’s intention but the best way to find out was not finding out. “We have to tire it, make that thing use all of its energy”. Then it will vanish, right? That was what should happen but who knew how long that would take. Apparently that varied from phantom to phantom and the medium couldn’t really tell how powerful this particular foe was.

The dark figure was nowhere to be seen but the girl could clearly feel its presence. It was still in the pub. She looked around frantically, ignoring her growing headache, trying to hone her power to locate the creature. It came from nowhere, appearing from within the wooden boards that caused an explosion of splinters. She tried to cover herself with her arms as she crashed to the side. Streaks of red covered her arms from where the splinters cut like little knives. None got stuck into her skin, it didn’t feel like it at least. But she did hit her head against the floor, the ringing in her ears and the ache at the back of her skull were proof of that. She was distantly aware of Al’s voice but after a moment she was able to focus on him saying her name. Then her eyes were able to see the pool of blood around his arm.

Panic kicked in before she could snuff it out and decide whether or not he was worthy of her concern. The medium got to her knees and managed to get to his side. He’d done something to contain the bleeding for a while but he needed to be healed. She had the power to do that. She’d done it before. “Just- just hang on” she said, repeating the motions of the healing spell Richie had taught her. She started crying as she said the Spanish words of the spell. Anger, sadness and confusion taking form in the tears that ran down her cheeks. Somewhere in the Soulstream or the afterlife Becca surely hated her for this, for healing the man that had killed her. Tara hated herself for healing him and for knowing that she couldn’t have acted any other way. Did this mean she was the bigger person? Or just a fucked up little girl that wasn’t strong enough to hate a man she should have hated?

Light poured from her hands and in seconds Alphonse’s wound was healed. She pulled away without a word, just brushed her eyes with the back of her palms even though her sobs continued. Fucking hell, she needed to scream. She needed to break something. She was going to lose it at this rate. She glanced down at her palms, one with the nasty gash from where the glass cut it, the other a blank canvas for magic. Without wasting more time, she drew a circle and the array of symbols around and inside it. She rose her hand, ready to attack the phantom when it reappeared.

[tara-olsen]

JAMES ARTHUR - “MY RECOVERY”

And I can hear the phone It keeps on ringing I don’t want to answer I know that I used to listen And I know I’ve become dismissive

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

The sad truth was that Al knew he could never take on this phantom by himself. He couldn’t even see the damn thing properly, and when he could it was mere flashes brough on by his rune. Not only that, his alchemy was rusty as hell since he’d barely used it in the last six months, and he’d already began growing weaker because of it. But Alphose didn’t seem to fucking care about any of that, as he sat facing Tara, eyes set on her with a hardened expression. Just fucking leave, goddammit, he’d wanted to shout, but held back. Of course Tara didn’t waste any time drunkenly telling the guy to fuck off in the nicest way she knew how, and she’d even gave Al a piece of her mind too. He’d expected that, all the anger and the condesension. In fact, there was only one person that could make him feel worse about himself that wasn’t Tara, and that was him. Al hated himself. At least when he’d visited his Uncle, the man had helped him rebuild some of that confidence and come to terms with what he’d done. 

Slowly but surely, Al had begun to forgive himself for his mistakes, but deep down, he kenw he could never fixed them in the way that he wanted. Tara and Becca of course, were his biggest regrets. And now it was obvious to him, as Tara began to spread blood against the table’s wooden surface, that they would have to work together. Again. “I’ve got a rune that can help me see flashes of the fucker, so I’d only say that’s about half accurate.” The professor stated calmly and with ease as he grabbed a cloth nearby, ripped it, and tied it around his arm wound. “You’re also intoxicated, and though I’m sure you can handle this on your own,” there was evident sarcasm in his voice, and an edge he’d never quite had before when speaking to Tara; “I think I’d rather stay.” Just alchemy or not, Al would be more useful to Tara here than anywhere else. 

As she worked her magic with the blood circle she’d created, Al took that opportunity to use is elemental magic, specifically his solid manipulation, otherwise known as his earth rune. With his palms pressed against the ground beneath them, wooden floor boards began lifting themselves up and off of the ground, creating a barrier between them and the phantom. He left a small window of room so Tara’s magic could be directed at the phantom, and though he couldn’t see it, he could hear it’s angry, weakened screams from across the room. Shards of glass began propelling themselves into the boarded up wall between them, several shards escaping through the small window he’d left open, narrowly missing Tara from where she stood. The wall he’d created wouldn’t hold long, and it certainly wouldn’t hold the phantom back as it advanced forward. At least for now it was wekeaned by Tara’s magic. “You’re stuck with me, I’m stuck with you. So tell me what we should do here since you’re the one who can see the damn thing.” That was that. There was a firmness in his voice that said, ‘I’m not budging on this so deal with it.’ Whether they liked it or not, Al still cared about the drunken medium standing to his left. 

Tara went ahead to roll her eyes at his response, finding it very annoying that he would get technical over something like a rune. The fact was that he wasn’t a medium. End of story. If she already seemed annoyed, his next comment effectively made that be more apparent on her expression. “Yeah, well, that tends to happen with alcoholics, we get wasted” the girl spat out every word bitterly without breaking eye contact. She already drank a bit more than usual when the two of them met, but the truth was, her drinking had never been that bad when they were together. In fact, it eventually stopped being an issue because Tara actually found she could live with herself during the time of their relationship. She wasn’t so haunted by the accident, the thirst for revenge on Becca’s murderer began to subside and for the first time in a while she felt home. Now it just made her stomach churn to think all that happiness she’d finally had in her life had been with the very man who shattered her life to begin with. Fuck the web of lies he’d used to get her!

The girl wanted to do something, shout at him, slap him. She wanted to let her rage and sadness and even the guilt of having loved him so deeply come clashing down on him. But she didn’t move. She just stared him down with cold hatred in her eyes even though there was a goddamn fire inside her. To hell with everything, she’d down at least two more shots when she got home after this bullshit of a night. “Fine” she said through gritted teeth, accepting that yes, for now they were stuck with each other.

“I can’t send that thing away, mediums can’t do that” she stated like it was an obvious thing, common knowledge for all. Man, she was beginning to sound like Richie. As she spoke as a hand moved to her head, the shots she’d downed minutes ago beginning to make her feel a bit light-headed. “Best bet is to let it dry out of energy and it should fade on its own. So the plan is there’s no plan, just use all your fucked up magic on it and then we can just forget tonight happened, okay?”. And with that, she pressed her hand hard against the blood-drawn circle over the table and aimed for the phantom once more. But somehow in the middle of her spell the shadowy thing managed to vanish from where it had been, as if it teleported away. “Shit” she growled, turning to look for it the damn phantom. It would reappear soon, she could feel its essence still lingering around.

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

Al’s hand stayed on the door nob as if it were frozen on there, his feet moving slightly so he had a better stance. Though he couldn’t directly see the phantom, merely sense it, the rune he had on the bottom of his wrist pulsed. He’d put it there years ago to sense danger, specifically phantoms. This allowed him to see the figure move, somewhat, in a blurry haze as if he were looking at a person while blackout drunk. As the phantom took a step forward, so did Al, his body moving to block it’s obvious path towards Tara. She was a medium after all, it would want her. 

The was when the phantom let out a blood curling screech, enough to render anyone close by deaf, though Al was quick to move and start shoving people towards the exit. “Get outta here, go!” Apparently the phantom’s loud warning was enough to spook most of the patron’s to the front door. Some looked confused and disoriented, but ultimately began following suit once glass bottles began shattering. Somehow in between Al’s attempt to get innocent people out of the bar and the screech, the phantom has phased behind the bar and proceeded to throw various bottles in his, and other people’s direction. One was aimed at the back of some man’s head, which Al promptly blocked with his arm. The bottle shattered against his flesh, making him wince a little, though it could have been worse. 

He ducked when another bottle came flying at his own head, and he turned to face Tara, his eyes wide. “Get out of here.” It was the first time he’d actually addressed her all evening. Obviously he’d seen her there the whole time, but this was the first he was acknowledging it. “Tara go, get him and yourself out of here.” Al said again, this time with more force as he sent several floor boards flying towards the phantom. It screeched again, making Al’s hair stand on end. The noise was worse than anything he’d ever hard before, and it’d been a while since he’d gone up against one of these bastards. He usually tried to avoid them, as he couldn’t really see them like a medium could. 

Her medium powers had gotten better with time, mostly due to the fact that Richie was a decent enough sensei in this whole magic thing. But also because being in Port Ashborne meant she could stretch that medium muscle often given the recurrence of weird shit happening due to supernatural reasons. A year ago she would have only faintly seen the phantom. Right now she could see the shifting, dark figure clearly. Or as clearly as her slightly-tipsy, possibly-a-little-drunk-already state could allow her. Not even the creepy looking specter was enough to sober her up in spite of the uneasy sensation she got just to look at the ugly fucker.

Regular people couldn’t see it, obviously, but could at least have a slight amount of common sense to tell them there was something weird going on. When Alphonse shouted for them to go, half of the patrons listened and the other half looked at him like he was insane. “There’s a gas leak in the kitchen, people! Get moving!” she shouted as she got up from her seat. If a supernatural force didn’t make them leave, at least a ‘normal’ explanation to evacuate could get them up their asses. Now Nathan was the one looking at her like she was the crazy one. “Erin, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, visibly uncomfortable. Ah, Erin. That was the fake name she’d given to this moron. She’d actually forgotten already which one she’d used this time. “Date’s over” she told him curtly, without even a hint of her previous charming smiles or the caresses. A phantom was a good enough excuse to drop the act, after all. And now she had to deal with that shit instead of dealing with some idiot she wasn’t even going to give her number to. She heard Alphonse speak to her but she didn’t turn to him, she was focusing on dismissing the guy she’d come here with. Nathan just shook his head, very much aware that he’d just been used and walked out of the pub muttering the word ‘Bitch’ as he turned around. “Right back at you” the girl said with a salute and a toxic smirk, a faint slur appearing in her words.

Bottles began to fly across the place and she ducked as quickly as she could, taking cover by the side of the table. When she got up Al’s eyes had turned to her and she had to steady herself not so much because her head was spinning, or because a damn supernatural entity was throwing shit around a pub, but because those damn eyes were locked on her for a moment and because these were the first words they exchanged after... well, after that. “No. You don’t get to tell me what to do” she stated as she rose an accusatory finger towards him. She spoke in such a stubborn way that might have sounded a bit childish but the way her expression turned to stone was evidence that in spite of all the alcohol she had consumed already, she was angry. She was fucking pissed off and she was doing her damnedest to contain that. “You’re not a medium, you can’t even see that thing properly, let alone fight it” she added in a condescending tone as she took one her shot glasses and smashed it against the table “I’m the one that should be here, not you- you’re just an... alchemist”. Some shards of glass cut her hand, which had been what she was aiming for. Using some drops of her own blood she drew a circle on the table and some of the symbols Richie had taught her, surprising even herself a little that she could actually complete the magical array almost mechanically, moving quickly and with precision. Well, her precision was better when she was sober but practicing with sensei Vásquez had really paid off. One hand was pressed to the magical circle and the other was aimed at the phantom, letting a beam of warm, gold light out of her palm and towards the specter. It shrieked again through the ray of light she could see it was almost burning. Finally her hand dropped. The phantom was still there, cowering, flickering in its own darkness. Her magic didn’t end it, but it seemed to at least have weakened it.

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

Al put the beer to his lips, letting the glass rim sit on his lower lip for a moment as he listened to the not-so-quiet conversation Tara was having with her…date. The word babe was what made him drink, the grip on his beer tightening more. Any tighter and the bottle might shatter. Of course Tara would stand her ground, she wasn’t the type to run away from a fight. Not that this was a fight, per say, but it could very easily turn into an altercation if Al allowed it to. Unfortunately, his head tilted to the side just in time to see Tara kiss the guy; that really got his blood boiling. So, she was gonna play it like that? Great, very mature. He should have figured it would be this way, though, considering he’d singlehandedly shattered her entire world. That was what really tightened his grip. The thought of Becca always had. 

Al cleared his throat and let his eyes settle on a bottle of tequlia behind the bartender, yet still out of the corner of his eye he could see Tara and her date sit down in his line of sight. Probably her plan, and for course she went ahead and kissed him again, why not? The professor chuckled and finished off his beer, throwing a couple bills down as he grabbed his jacket to leave. “Thanks, Ed.” He nodded to the bartender, who nodded back. This was a bar he frequented often, but now that Tara had made an appearance, he probably wouldn’t be back for a while. As he got his coat on, Al didn’t even give one look in Tara’s direction as he passed by, looking forward, stoic as ever. This was how he’d play the game, not like Tara, not with a woman around his arm. He didn’t want anyone else. All he wanted was her, and he knew he couldn’t have her, so…what was the point? 

As his palm pressed on the front door, a slight chill went down his spine. The temperature dropped just a little, making him pause. There was a slight howl that could have been mistaken for wind, but he thought otherwise. If anyone else knew what the familiar sension was, it would be Tara, and that sent another shiver down his spine. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, turning around slowly as a shadowy-like figure appeared towards the other end of the bar. His eyes moved to Tara, who was still seated with her…date. Again, he had to keep from rolling his eyes. 

Her date returned with some shots and Tara had already downed one before Nathan even settled on his chair before her. The guy widened his eyes and she ignored his surprise, or judgment, or whatever the hell that look was supposed to be. She was here for the drinks, not for him. Not for any of the distractions she’d been dating for the past months just to keep her mind as far away as possible from... “Bottoms up” she said, downing her second shot as her eyes briefly turned to Al. From him. The alcohol burned her throat in such a pleasantly familiar way and she welcomed the feeling, grateful that in a few hours -maybe even in a few minutes- she would begin forgetting that she ever saw Alphonse tonight.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched him pass by where her and Nathan were sitting. Her eyes involuntarily followed him and he ignored her, of course. He didn’t do anything to acknowledge her presence when she walked in and he wasn’t doing anything to acknowledge it as he walked out. Tara just reached for Nathan’s untouched, second shot and grabbed it. “Hey, that was-” he began to protest, but the girl had already downed it as fast as she did the first two. “Too slow” she said with a charming smile. Someone who knew her better would detect the cracks in it, the bitterness and the deep-rooted sadness that her mask of a smile tried to cover. But of course, someone like Nathan would never see past it. No one would. Only one man had been able to see past those lies she wore in her expressions and he was a man she never wanted to see again, or think about, or have this tangled mess of feelings for... It just hurt. It still hurt too much.

Tara glanced up when a strange feeling went through her only to find Alphonse hadn’t walked out of the pub. He standing by the door. The weird sensation stayed with the alcohol beginning to mess with her head she knew she couldn’t possibly be that drunk yet. This didn’t feel good, it didn’t feel like warm oblivion. It felt cold, to damn cold she actually shuddered. She followed the professor’s line of sight when he looked to another side of the bar. Her eyes widened at the sight of an inhuman figure taking form there. “Oh shit”.

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

@tara-olsen

It had been months since he’d last seen Tara, but only about two minutes since he’d last thought about her. Rarely did he think about anything else, and it had been hard enough trying to forgive himself for the heinous acts he’d excuted in his days using alchemy. It had been exactly three months since he’d last used his powers; the last time being when he’s gone into a burning building to save his girlfriend- ex-girlfriend. God. It was still strange to say. Some days she felt like a ghost, others he could see her so clearly that he thought she’d been sitting right beside him all along. 

He’d nursing a beer at a local pub for about an hour when he saw her, clear as day, as if she were right in front of him. She came through the doors with a pair of darkly rimmed sunglasses that she placed on top of her head, and a sexy dress that made him weak. Shit, he’d seen her wear that dress before, in fact, it was his favorite. The way it hugged her body always made him stare, but today, it made him want to look away. It wasn’t real, it’s all in your head. But, like always, Al couldn’t resist. He looked her way again, this time finding that a man had walked in behind her, slinging his arm around her waist. The grip Al had on his beer tightened. This wasn’t his imagination. Tara confirmed that moments later as the words, ‘are you fucking kidding me,’ fell from her lips. Shit…Shit. Al turned away and pretended he didn’t see her, taking a sip of his beer while his head hung low. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” the words escaped her before she could even think to stop herself. Tara knew that it was a matter of time before she ran into Alphonse. She’d been lucky enough for quite some time, never seeing him in those places that were familiar for both. Restaurants. The library at Port Ashborne’s university. Admittedly, she had avoided some of those places for a while, but even after she dared to return to them she had not seen the professor there. With some degree of relief she even considered that perhaps he’d done both a favor left town. The girl never allowed her mind to wonder too long about him, to think of questions about him she no longer had a way of answering. But no. Alphonse Fucking Bellard was sitting just a few meters away from where she stood at the entrance of the pub.

She saw him and she could have sworn he saw her too. But of course he turned his head away like a fucking coward. For a moment there, Tara also wanted to be a fucking coward and just turn around to leave. “What is it, babe?” her date asked, his steady hand wrapped around her waist. For many days she’d felt broken -and some days she still felt too damn broken- but at least today she was feeling pissed off. Fuck being a coward, she thought. I’ve always been better at being petty. “Nothing. Some guy kinda looked like my fucking ex but thank God it’s not him” she said with a chuckle, turning around to slide her arms around the guy’s neck. This one was Nathan, right? Without hesitation she pressed a kiss to the guy’s lips, pleasantly surprising him. “Come on, I think we can sit here” the girl said as she stepped back to an empty table, sitting down and smiling to her date. Just for a moment her eyes shifted to Al’s direction and she rose her chin a little. That’s right, asshole, I’m staying in your line of sight. “I’ll get us some drinks” Nathan said before leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips. She smiled again, not for the kiss, but because she needed the damn alcohol. She’d already had a couple of beers at her place but tonight she’d definitely need a little something extra.

[tara-olsen]

ricardo-vasquez‌:

Ricardo wakes up with a searing headache thumping his forehead. Ever since that fire, pieces of his memories have been resurfacing in a form of nightmarish visions. While it took its toll on him, Ricardo did not stop doing his job as a Tuner. Especially these days as lost souls roamed the street of Port Ashborne, he has been getting no rest. Hanging out with Tara was probably the only time he felt relatively sane. He crawls out of the couch he fell asleep in, picks up his phone and opens the door, unkempt and disheveled. “You do realize it’s…” he checks the time, “2 in the morning?” He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “At this ungodly hour it’s not a gift. It’s the entrance fee.”  He gestures her into the apartment, leaving the door open. He goes hunting for a (relatively) clean shirt. 

So it was 2:00 a.m., hun? “Great. The night’s still young” she simply stated as she allowed herself in, walking past Richie to claim a spot on his couch. “Come on, we both know you would have let me in anyway” Tara told him with a grin that gave away there was already alcohol in her system. “So. Tough decisions now: Whiskey first or tequila first?” the girl asked as she took out the two bottles from the plastic bag, holding up each one in one hand.

[tara-olsen]

@ricardo-vasquez

The last couple of months had been difficult, to say the least. Most days Tara felt she could stay above water but there were days when she felt like she was drowning again. Three things took her mind from her very fucked up existence when that happened. One was Richie. The second was alcohol. The third was going out with some idiot that would make her forget her problems and pay for her dinner. Number two was usually involved regardless the case, though.

“Richie! Open up” the girl called out as she knocked repeatedly on her friend’s door. “I come bearing gifts. Good ones!” she added and as soon as Ricardo opened the door, she rose the plastic bag she was holding. One bottle of whiskey and another of tequila. “And luckily for you, I’m in a sharing mood”.

[tara-olsen]

Alone | Self para

She felt a strange numbness take over her all the way from Alphonse’s apartment to her own. If anything it felt like some sort of reflex mechanism so she wouldn’t just fall apart in the middle of the street. The explosion was coming, she could feel it inside of her, but she managed to drag herself through the darkened streets of Port Ashborne and up the stairs of her building until she found refuge in her home.

It didn’t feel like a home, though. It didn’t feel like a safe place at all. Not when one of Al’s jackets had been tossed over the couch. Not with those two empty bowls sitting on the kitchen counter from the cereal they had for breakfast yesterday morning. Not when she knew the bed would be unmade because they left it that way and definitely not when she knew there was a side of her bed that was his side and that the pillow would smell of him.

Tara couldn’t take another step. Her knees buckled from under her and she sat down with a loud thud on the floor. Her whole body ached, in part for all the exhertion going against that fire phantom but mostly for what happened in Alphonse’s apartment afterwards. That hurt so much more and she didn’t know how to tear away that pain from her. She just wanted to stop feeling it. Maybe time would lessen how much she was hurting but right now she just couldn’t see past this moment. Right now she was just drowning.

Her hands moved to go to the back of her neck and reach for the clasp of the necklace she was wearing. It had been a gift from Al... Her fingers fumbled with it but she managed to get it off, tossing it away with a cry.

With her back to the door, the girl just sat there and cried until she felt she couldn’t possibly cry any more. She felt vulnerable, she felt betrayed, she felt stupid but most of all, she felt alone. It was a creeping and oppressing sensation to feel as lonely as she did.

All kinds of poisonous thoughts crossed her mind and it was hard to drive them away when she was in such a fragile state. She berated herself for being stupid enough, weak enough, to let herself grow attached to Alphonse. Love was a goddamn noose. She questioned whether or not she should do something against the professor now that she knew he was the man she’d been hunting down for over a year. Would revenge make anything better? Could she have it in her to harm Al... to kill him? At moments she thought she would make him pay for what he’d done, but at others she was too painfully aware of the fact that she’d told him the truth earlier: she loved him. As fucked up as it was, she loved him and she would never be able to move against him.

Her body was sore from being curled up against her door for God knows how long. It tickled in an uncomfortable way and felt so heavy when she finally shifted her position slightly. She pulled her knees closer to herself again, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face in them. Please let it be over.

At such a low point it was not only hard but impossible to envision she could ever feel complete after this. The heavy weight of Becca’s murder and Alphonse’s part in it had shattered her for good. She’d felt broken once before but only now she realized she’d only had a few cracks back then. Now she’d come completely undone.

“You’re not alone, Tara” a soft voice whispered. “You’ve never been alone”.

Tara glanced up and through swollen, teary eyes saw her sister was there with her. She was but a faint image, someone otherworldly, ethereal. Becca, with her kind eyes and her sweet smile. For so long the medium had hoped to see her sister’s spirit, to be able to contact her. She’d seen other ghosts but never Becca.

She blinked a few times and brushed her palms against her eyes. When her eyes focused ahead once more there was no one there.

A cruel trick of her imagination.

She was alone.

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

tara-olsen‌:

Her face was buried between her hands as she continued to cry. She wanted to stop, she wanted to get up and leave, she wanted to yell at the top of her lungs… but her body wasn’t responding. After a while, God knows how long, breathing didn’t feel as difficult as it had been when the pain started. Her body still shook with her quiet sobs and she felt like such a fragile, lonely creature sitting there in Al’s couch.

Her head hurt from all the crying, her nose felt congested and her eyes ached for being so swollen. She never reached a point of composure or the easy detachment that had once been characteristic of her, but the girl managed to calm even a bit in spite of the tears still running down her cheeks. Her hands dropped to her lap and she finally dared to look at Alphonse. She’d just said she loved him for the first time tonight and now her whole world had been shattered with his confession and she didn’t even know if her words still had any validity after that. Did her feelings change after his horrifying truth? She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think at all. She wanted to be able to say every terrible thing she ever thought about the man responsible for Becca’s death but when her lips parted, none of those hateful words came out. “I- I have to go” was all she could muster.

Tara’s expression contorted as another wave of hurt washed over her and she could feel the next stream of tears forming in her eyes. She just wanted this fucking nightmare to be over, she just wanted to wake up to a less brutal reality, but she was painfully aware that this was her reality and her reality had never been too kind for her for too long. Everything always broke in the end. “Goodbye, Alphonse” the girl spoke with an air of finality as she got up, keeping her eyes on him for a moment before she turned around to leave.

A great deal have time had passed where both of them seemed to be in a great deal of pain, though never of them said a thing. Al’s apologizes were met with silence, which he’d half expected, but a greater part of him had expected an explosion. This reaction was much, much worse. When she finally did look at him, like…actually look at him, his heart broke all over again. His lips parted and a pained breath of air escaped his lungs as she finally spoke, her words without anger but instead a sort of weakness he’d never seen from Tara before. Truly, Alphonse believed he had broken this woman before him. This strong, maginficently beautiful woman that he loved…God, he had broken her. 

He didn’t even move from his spot in the kitchen when she stood up, her words hanging in the air with a sense of finality to them. His heart hurt, it felt like someone had ripped it out, broken it, and attempted to put it back together again before shoving it back into his chest. Somehow, he managed to speak as well, though his mouth felt dry and useless. “Goodbye, Tara.” Al said back, his eyes daring to watch her leave. As soon as the door shut behind her, he sunk to the floor with his head in his hands. What had he done? God, what the fuck had he done? 

[ End ]

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

He desperately wanted to do something to help her through this, anything, but he knew anything that he’d want or would do, Tara would immediately rebuff. There was no way for him to fix this, no way for him to take back the horrible, treacherous things he’d done to her so all he could do was sit and witness her pain. The tears that filled his eyes multiplied as he nearly leaned forward towards her but stopped himself, getting up so he could walk across the room. He paced while the love of his life sobbed, the noises paining him so deeply that his breathing became restricted deep within his chest. His motions almost became manic as he bumped into chair, knocked over random items in his apartment. One of his hands beat itself into the wooden countertop, leaving his knuckles red with blood as her sobs could still be heard over his frantic movements. 

‘You piece of shit, you asshole. Why are you even alive? Did you think you could really have her? Did you think you could truly have happiness, and with her?’ Al wanted Tara to leave. At this point, he craved for the door to slam, for her to yell and curse at him and perhaps throw various items in his direction. Nothing compared to the pain he felt right now hearing her cry and knowing he was the one who had caused her so much hurt. Knowing that there was nothing he could do to help her, to console her, fuck- he couldn’t even touch her and it killed him. “Tara, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I…” What else could he say? Waht else could he possibly have to say after the bomb he’d just dropped on her? 

Her face was buried between her hands as she continued to cry. She wanted to stop, she wanted to get up and leave, she wanted to yell at the top of her lungs… but her body wasn’t responding. After a while, God knows how long, breathing didn’t feel as difficult as it had been when the pain started. Her body still shook with her quiet sobs and she felt like such a fragile, lonely creature sitting there in Al’s couch.

Her head hurt from all the crying, her nose felt congested and her eyes ached for being so swollen. She never reached a point of composure or the easy detachment that had once been characteristic of her, but the girl managed to calm even a bit in spite of the tears still running down her cheeks. Her hands dropped to her lap and she finally dared to look at Alphonse. She’d just said she loved him for the first time tonight and now her whole world had been shattered with his confession and she didn’t even know if her words still had any validity after that. Did her feelings change after his horrifying truth? She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think at all. She wanted to be able to say every terrible thing she ever thought about the man responsible for Becca’s death but when her lips parted, none of those hateful words came out. “I- I have to go” was all she could muster.

Tara’s expression contorted as another wave of hurt washed over her and she could feel the next stream of tears forming in her eyes. She just wanted this fucking nightmare to be over, she just wanted to wake up to a less brutal reality, but she was painfully aware that this was her reality and her reality had never been too kind for her for too long. Everything always broke in the end. “Goodbye, Alphonse” the girl spoke with an air of finality as she got up, keeping her eyes on him for a moment before she turned around to leave.

[tara-olsen]

alphonse-bellard‌:

Al nodded almost immediately after Tara spoke, his hand instinctively squeezing hers. “Of course I do. Of course.” He didn’t want to take his hand away, in fact it pained him to do so, but he couldn’t hold her the way he used to knowing that he’d been lying to the woman he loved this whole time. Every day he had begun to eat away at him and then today…well, today she saw a glimpse of the man he once was. The man that used alchemy to his advantage, the man that lied and cheated his way out of horrible situations. It was the kind of man he never wanted to be, but had become. And it was that very man he’d left behind the moment he’d begun a relationship with Tara. But now, now his lies were catching up with him. It was only a matter of time. Her confession of love didn’t go unnoticed, if anything, it made him want to keep on lying to keep the love that they had. Their love was what kept Al going now, not the alchemy, not the constant need for a connection with his mother or the debt he thought he owed her, and the world. It was Tara, and perhaps it was always meant to be Tara. Al smiled gently before he spoke; wishing her words could be true. “I want that. You don’t even know how much I want this, how much I want you but I…I can’t. I can’t because you’ll hate me. You’ll hate me so much that you won’t love me anymore.” The truth of his next words would kill her, he knew it.

This wasn’t fair. In no way was it fair, and he knew it was the universe’s way of punishing him. Selfish, resentful, liar, murder…they were all words that described Al that he’d been running from for so long now that he couldn’t run from them any longer. If he were to ever make peace with the things he’d done, the first step was to stop lying. But in order to do that, he’d have to lose his whole world. He tried to think of the bright side of this, the end result. At least now Tara could have an ending to the awful story that had shaped her life for so long now. At least now she’d have answers, and a face to match the villain in her story. And it pained him that that face had to be his.

Somehow they’d both begun to cry, but for different reasons. Tara, who had no yet discovered his deception, cried for his pain and he cried for the pain she would feel once she knew of what he’d done. They cried for each other, but only one knew the truth. Al bowed his head and silently hated himself for not saying her name, Becca, the innocent he had mercilessly killed. He’d even tried to kill Tara too, though he’d stopped himself before he finished the job. God…if only he’d known then what he knew now. The hand that rested on his face felt out of place, like it shouldn’t be there because honestly, it shouldn’t be. Tara was supposed to scream, yell and push him away. She was supposed to grab his knives or various other objects and throw them at him, maybe even possibly try to kill him for what he’d done. But she did none of these things. Al looked up when she spoke, confusion filling his features as she continued to console him. His hand came up in the space between them and he moved away, tears still falling down his cheeks. “Tara please stop.  You don’t know…you have no idea who I am. The man that I am now…the man I am with you is not who I was, but I- I need to start telling the truth. You, need to know the truth.” He said with a shaky breath, knowing exactly what he had to do now. She’d never believe that it was him on her own, connecting the dots would take more time if he wanted her to know the truth. Say it, the voice in his head sneered, say her name.

“Your sister…was very special, Tara. The way that she died…it should have never happened. I should have never- I never should have let myself get close to her, or to you now. I didn’t know that you…Tara I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you.  I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating the words again and again, but he knew it would make no difference. She would know now of what he did, that her sister died because of him, he was to blame. Now, she would hate him. Her love would be gone, and he would be left with a hole of where it once was.

There was a small glimmer of hope when he replied. That had to be enough, right? That both of them wanted to fix things, that they wanted things to be better between them. But that hope was soon darkened when he continued to speak, when he said she would hate him, when he moved away from her. The girl couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was something wrong, truly wrong, that Alphonse knew and she didn’t.

If only she hadn’t known. If only she’d stayed ignorant of that hidden truth. The second he spoke of Becca she understood and her eyes stayed on him with open horror and confusion. No, no, no. That couldn’t be the truth. He couldn’t be the person responsible for her sister’s death. Her sister’s murder. A hand went to her mouth as a sob escaped her and the girl curled on herself, feeling like it was getting harder to breathe.

Her eyes shut thightly, as she willed for her reality to vanish. She just wanted everything to go away and stop existing, because this moment, this very real moment was tearing her apart. God, it felt like the moment she learned six months late that her sister had died. It felt like waking up in that hospital again only to learn she’d been out for half a year and that her sister was long gone when it felt like she had just lost her. That all felt like some twisted game fate played on her, and learning the man she’d fallen in love with was none other than her sister’s killer was the cruelest joke of life so far.