RainforestGirl
She might as well have been flattened by all of the cars rushing by outside, all of the petty people on their way to "important" events. Her husband was dead. It had happened so quickly, too quickly - she would never be able to adjust. But at the moment, she was too numbed to cry. She just wanted to cease her existence and run away from everything.
He'd been the underdog for years on end now, something that his girlfriend never failed to tease him on because of the vast amount of dogs he owned. But at the end of the day, it was true - he didn't have much money, his family was falling apart in every way, and he couldn't keep himself in check to get good grades. But at least he was an underdog with her.
The sound of her baby boy's first footsteps didn't bring her to tears...at least, not immediately. She felt herself losing control of her emotions, but instead of sobbing over the momentous occassion she remained frozen. He was growing up, and before she knew it eighteen or so years would've passed by and he'd be leaving her. Oh, she loved him.
Of course he was failing the class - his entire method of getting assignments in was managing to forget and make excuses until the day before and then pushing himself to the very edge of performance in order to scrape together a product in a matter of hours. Often this ended up being overnight, making it so he couldn't fall back asleep before it was time to jog out to the bus stop.
She stood there, feeling as numb as she could without suddenly keeling over dead. She couldn't move - if she moved, then she would know it was real. She would know it was more than just a simple nightmare. Then she would know that the crimson blood on her hands was truly warm and wet against her paling skin.
She never should've allowed herself to fall so much in love. It seemed stupid, like she was a lovesick damsel in a cheesy romance novel. She didn't want to be lovesick, nor a damsel...and this was real life! But, of course, the fact of the matter was that she was sitting in her living room, waiting to announce her fourth child. Four children with this man.
She sped into her new job with such conviction, unbelievably pleased that she'd been able to take her dreams and mold them into something tangible as if they'd been made from clay. Now she was standing in her very own little dress shop, something she often read about in small novels when she got the time to curl up beside her cat and lean against a cushion as rain pattered against the window.
"You have to broaden your horizons, Sierra," her mother explained. "You seem to have gotten yourself stuck into a single sort of thing, but if you want to succeed you need to expand."
"I don't want to expand," Sierra sighed. "I'm doing so much already - singing, acting, and dancing. And then I'm piling schoolwork right on top of that."
He could never be grateful enough to her simply for her presence beside him. But he became far more grateful when he considered how much help she'd provided otherwise. She'd been there when the entire room had turned itself away and there was nothing she could do.. She would always have some amount of words to make him feel somewhat better, in one way or another.
She realized she'd imagined it all. There had never been any threat, it had only been a projection of her mind yearning to release all of her energy on something and not feel guilty about it. She'd gotten herself so racked up about everything that came her way that it all exploded at the slightest noise. There was nothing she could do - her mind was already gone. All it had taken was that one gunshot all those years ago.
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