#but some wet foods make me want to cry out in mental agony sometimes like this isnt very hashtag awesome actually

[gummy-worms-in-my-brain]

touched wet lasaga bits in the sink

status changed to: ANGUISH (-1000) debuff acquired: QUEASY duration: 3 hours

[milks-writings]

The shadow that laid over his body made his eyes wander up the figure that stood in front of him, seeing you with an umbrella in your hand. His eyes adjusted to the new scenery, before only letting out a soft chuckle. “And who are you?” His voice was a little raspy, probably because Solomon had been soaked wet with the pouring cold rain that hadn't stopped yet. “Do you need an umbrella?” You asked back, without answering his question he had longed you to answer. When you mustered his figure up and down, only to see how a few water drops were falling onto the concrete and leaving slightly darker grey spots there. The oh-so-great King had been sitting on a bench that was placed under a small bus stop house, to give the people that waited for the bus the opportunity to sit down while waiting. “Oh it-” Before his sentence got finished, you quickly cut him off, knowing exactly that Solomon would say something between the lines like ‘It’s all fine I don’t want to make you any troubles’ or ‘It’s okay don’t worry about me’. “Don’t worry about it. You are all wet and the rain probably won’t stop until tomorrow” You assured him. The sorcerer had no other option but to just silently agree with you, getting up and leaving a small puddle on the spot where he sat. “Where do you live?” Of course, you’d ask that, and he already prepared mentally for that question. “In the south… you know the grocery store next to the kindergarten?” “Oh yeah… understood” Your hand automatically reached a little up to hold the umbrella over you two, since the male seemed to be taller than you had planned. But instead of adjusting to his height, the white-haired male already took the umbrella from you, holding it over your heads to protect you from the falling rain. “Thanks” Solomon probably saw how you had been struggling with the umbrella, so he decided to at least do you the small favor of helping you. “So, what are you doing here… in a school uniform?” The immortal asked quite confused, leaving you speechless for a second. “Oh… today was my graduation… You know, end of the school year” “And now you are walking alone home?” his head tilted to the side, making you nod slowly with scrunched-down eyebrows. “What about your parents?” curiosity got ahead of him, letting him talk more than he ever wanted to. “They are working.” “What about taking a day off once?” “I don’t know, they don’t seem very interested, but I don’t really mind you know. I kinda wanted to get some alcohol later in the store…” “Aren’t you 18?!” “Yeah so? Just some sweet words and I will easily get one bottle or two of beer” To say the least, Solomon was invested into your personality. He craved for more of your words, the way you talked and the way your words just slipped over your lips amazed him more and more with each second, making him thirsty for things he can’t have forever. Because forever was until he dies, but he is immortal. But your forever was until you die, but you are not immortal. “Are your parents home?” The sorcerer asked, leaving a confused face on you. “No, not yet bu-” “I know we just met but… Maybe you want to go to the grocery store with me?” His heart fluttered for a moment, and the pale skin turned into a sweet pink, leaving a blush over his cheeks. “If you pay, sure”

He shouldn’t have paid.

Once again, there was pouring summer rain. His head was still full of thoughts about you, even after two years, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Solomon knew that this was not good for him, to hurt himself by falling in love, watching his beloved one dying, and being alone again. For his whole life, and his life was loner than an eternity. But seeing you crying on a bench, getting all soaked wet like he was two years ago, his legs just had to move before he could think of it. The sorcerer’s hand stretched out, letting the umbrella cover you and catch the raindrops. Your eyes darted immediately up, and just as fast your hands reached out to wipe the salty tears away. “Solomon?” The small voice crack made the king smile, nodding slowly. “Are you okay?” “Can we go to the store and get some ice cream?” Just like back then, you blacked out his question, but he didn’t question. Solomon’s heart followed the sweet sound of your voice like it mesmerized his mind, forgetting about every responsibility he carried within his whole life. The nostalgia hit him harder each time you two would share the umbrella, leaving his mouth empty and his stomach filled with lots of butterflies. “Don’t you think it’s funny how we always share one umbrella?” he awkwardly asked, trying to break the silence. “An umbrella for two” You shortly answered, but enough to make not only him but also yourself smile. “So, what are you doing now after your graduation?” “I applied to some universities… Life is really short so if I won’t get accepted by any of them I will just go somewhere else.” Some people are praying for longer lives, some for better lives, but all Solomon does is begging on his knees, just to get mortal again. To lift the curse, to break all strings, and be satisfied with his life. “What are you doing for a living, Solo?” His heart tugged at the shortcut of his name. If you would have been someone else, he would’ve complained, but for now, he would just let himself enjoy the serotonin boost. “Not much… I sometimes help here and there out, I live alone and already have a house without a rent, only need some food and pay the taxes… so that’s enough” He explained whole heartedly. “Also” instead of letting you slip something between his words, Solomon tried to add a few more words. “Nothing is forever. Everything is temporary. Even pain you might feel, the happiness you might feel, anger or whatever. Nothing lasts forever. Not even life.” His words were probably there to comfort you from your crying, though they rather left you confused. “You are quite mysterious.” You replied, managing to catch his heart that was about to drop with a smile and chuckle “Though that’s interesting.”

You did age in the last two years, got less childish and more of an adult.

But why does he never age?

Seeing you at RAD was more than a surprise to the poor boy’s heart. Just a few weeks ago you two had ice cream at the store after catching you crying, and now you two got destined into the exchange student program.

Nothing bad happened, not after one week, one month, three months. Actually, quite some good things happened, perhaps life was giving Solomon some signs of happiness, of forgiveness to let you stay at his side as his significant other.

“Solomon.” Your voice was sharper than any knife that got stabbed into his chest, and his gaze just looked unwillingly at you. “What do they mean, that you are immortal?” Solomon expected to see the horror in your eyes, disappointment, sadness, but instead of this all, he saw nothing at all. Just dead eyes without any meaning behind them. “Who told you that?” He tried to avoid the question, but you were smarter than that. “Just answer me. When you said that we could grow old together, did you mean me and me only?” the shaky voice of yours echoed through RAD’s hallway, catching everyone’s attention around you two. “Hey, let’s talk about it in private, shall--” “no!” Seeing you raise your voice at him made him flinch for a second. “What do you mean we can’t lie six feet under the dirt next to each other? If we get kids, you will live longer than them? In 200 years will I be meaningless to you? Will you forget me in 1000 years?” Finally, the façade broke down, tears streaming down your face, with no beginning or end. “Y/N…” Solomon tried to cheer you up, hoping not to catch everyone's attention. “Answer me: Do you remember who was your partner 600 years ago?” Your voice yearned for hope, only to get it crushed down by one word. “No…” The great King answered ashamed, suddenly being not so great and wise to you. “Why should I be even together with someone who I am meaningless to?” “Listen please-” He tried to calm you down while you yanked his hand away that reached out for you. “You told me no one lives forever… So why do you?”

Yes, why does he? Why does Solomon go through all the pain in his life? Why does he not just try to find a spell against immortality?

“Do you think I want to live that long?”

“Huh?”

“I really wish I never met you, Y/N. In the end, I am suffering more, aren’t I?” A scoff left your mouth since no words were left in it. “Okay fine, then let’s just break up.”

“Yeah, fine.”

If he hadn’t simply agreed that day, Solomon might’ve been the one next to you, even after four years, ten years, or even 50 years.

His heart just ached thinking about you, and all the colorful memories with you were suddenly painted all grey and black, only leaving pain in his heart and filling his mind with nothing but agony. Weren’t you made for each other? Wasn’t he enough?

Was it because he was immortal?

No matter what it had been, the umbrella was for two, just not for you two.

It was an umbrella for two, like you said, though for you and someone else than him.

The umbrella he had was for only for himself.

«𝐛𝐲 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞»

[chocolateheart]

My life is gone

Title: My life is gone

Word count: 2518

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (friendship)

Summary: You lost him. Now you have to deal with pain, heartbreak and memories.

Warnings: angst, death, dead body, losing someone, losing faith and hope, suicidal thoughts, dealing with loss, a hint of depression, heartbreak, a mention of eating disorders and sleeping issues, in general - mental disorders caused by losing someone.

A/N: This is my one shot for @deanwanddamons 1k followers celebration. My prompt was "Though my heart is broken, it keeps breaking everyday." but I couldn't stop myself from using some other lyrics of the song. They are written in italics. I’m far away from being the angst queen or an amazing writer for that matter but I did my best! I hope you’ll like it :)

A/N: Thank you to my lovely beta and friend @winchest09 for taking a moment to look at this and assuring me that posting this won't be an insult on the angst. Love you, girl!

A/N: @talesmaniac89 thank you so so so much for those gorgeous dividers!

You didn’t know how long you’ve been sitting there. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few days. You didn’t really care. Nothing mattered anymore. 

Your body went numb from not moving, your chest was barely rising as you almost completely forgot that you have to breathe. Wet trails on your cheeks from streams of tears, eyes red and pinching, your eyelids heavy from a pulsing headache. You were feeling sick and you were sure that if you’d puke, it would burn your sore throat; you were screaming loud as indescribable pain was rending your chest. 

Your knees hurt after hours of being dug into the ground. Your spine was begging to be straightened, your cold skin was yelling for even a little bit of warmth. The clothes you were wearing got soaked and heavy from rain, wet hair stuck to your face and neck; thunder from another upcoming storm shook the earth. But you didn’t listen. The only sound you wanted to hear was his voice as that you would listen to; you would go to hell if this voice asked you to. 

Opening your eyes you knew what you were going to see; but it didn’t stop you. You blindly believed that it’s just some stupid nightmare and when you wake up he would smile at you and calm you down. But it didn’t happen. 

Dean’s cold body lay on the mudded ground, wet and dirty. Head limply turned to the side, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. You stared at his chest for a few agonizingly long seconds, waiting for it to rise up; for him to inhale. A pained grimace appeared on your face when you, once again, realised it wouldn’t happen; he won’t breathe. 

You lifted your head up to the dark sky and yelled from deep within your lungs as another painful wave went through your body. You punched the ground, kneeling next to him, splashing the mud; furious, mad and broken. Then you crowled to him weakly, taking his inert head in your hands, crying and whining. You brushed away his wet hair from his face, leaving dirty lines from your fingers. 

“Dean,” you choked yet again and rubbed your thumbs on his cheekbones. He felt so cold and hard, almost like it wasn’t him. “Baby, please,” you whimpered. “Talk to me…open your eyes.” You waited with stupid hope but again, nothing happened. Crying loudly you pulled him to your chest and hugged tight.

Those eyes. Those full of life, green orbs that would shimmer every time he saw you. They would shine in the sunlight, they were glistening in the evening when you sat together in front of the fireplace, darkening under the cover of the night when the two of you were making love, confessing how much you meant to each other. Green crystals which were the most valuable stones for you. Those eyes will never smile at you again.

Drowning in agony you started shaking, you felt your every cell shattering, falling into million pieces. You were bleeding inside, your heart was screaming, burning from anguish. Your hands fisted his jacket, you clawed to him like you were planning to never let go, like it was supposed to protect you from losing yourself completely. 

Protect you from darkness. 

Suddenly you got stiff. You pulled away, put his head back on the ground and touched his cheek. You tilted your head, your eyes flicking over those familiar features. Gold freckles shedded on his face, light scruff running along his jawline, long lashes you were so jealous of. He was your treasure. Your anchor, your shelter, your home and your safe harbor. He gave you strength, power, a will to wake up every morning, to fight with evil. He gave a sense to your life. 

Who were you without that?

An empty vessel ready to give up. 

Staring at his lifeless figure you turned off your brain; you turned off your whole system. You didn’t cry, scream, you closed yourself on this torture that was waiting to hit you. The only one thing you let get to you was Dean. Memories flashed in front of your eyes; every moment with him, bad or good, every time you shared your thoughts, dreams and plans, you held each other, protected the other; saving lifes, hunting things. 

You have been writing your book since you were twelve and he saved your life. Now you couldn’t save him. Was this supposed to be the last chapter?

“Y/N,” Sam’s broken voice was barely audible in the hum of a rainstorm you hadn’t noticed started. “It’s time.”

Your lower lip wobbled, you were not able to hold back tears and pained whimper as realisation of what comes next hit you. You bent down, closed your eyes and placed a small kiss on his forehead, putting your hand on his heart. For the last time you prayed to feel even the slightest beat under your fingers.

Nothing.

8 months later

"Hey…"

You jerked, detached from the dark world you had drowned in again when Sam spoke, leaning against the door frame.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you,” you looked at him, noticing his worried expression. It wasn’t the first time he found you like this; sitting numbly on your bed, staring into the space. 

“That’s okay,” you said, sending him a small smile which he gave back.

“I left some pizza for you.” Just now you noticed the plate with a few pieces of italian food on it being offered to you by Sam .

Patting the bed you invited him to sit down next to you. You took the plate and stared at the food. You needed the fuel, you knew that; your stomach was sucking itself, grumbling every so often. You had lost a lot of weight, your skin was hanging on bones, your muscles were weak; but you didn’t care. Finding enough will to do something with yourself was impossible. Because, what was the point?

Your point of living was dead. And the only one reason you were still breathing, holding to this life with last strands, was this giant right in front of you. 

“Y/N, please,” Sam whispered and you looked up at him. His sad eyes were begging you to come back. “You have to eat.” You huffed a sad laugh.

“I can’t, Sam.” Putting the plate on the sheets you pulled your knees to the chest. “I can’t swallow anything.”

“It’s not good for you, Y/N/N.”

His voice was so sad and weak that for a second you felt like a bitch for doing this to him. But then you noticed the dark spots under his eyes, attenuate face, sharp cheekbones and glassy, heavy brown orbs. You weren’t the only broken person in this bunker. Not thinking much, you pulled him into a hug, wrapping your hands around his neck as he closed you in his. You both needed this as only you two understood the pain. 

“I’m worrying about you,” he murmured and you smiled.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He squeezed you harder but you pulled away. “But…” he looked at you, cupping your cheeks, checking your face; you knew it was pale and your eyes bloody. “Sam, there is no point to worry.”

“Y/N,” he started the defense, shaking his head.

“Listen to me,” you cut him off and looked in his eyes, feeling your own starting to tear up. “I’m dead, Sammy.” 

He flinched, because of both what you said and how you called him; nobody had used this nickname since that night.

“Stop talking like that,” he warned you but you just smiled.

“You miss him too, I know that. And I know that you suffer, but…” you searched for proper words. “Sam, I lost… that night took away everything from me. In two months it’ll be a year and every day I am losing another piece of what’s left inside.” You touched your chest. “I can’t sleep and when I do, I have nightmares. After I wake up, the fact that he’s not here kicks me again and again. I see him everywhere, he never leaves my mind and it hurts. So much of him is left behind. There are moments I even expect him to walk into the room. But he won’t.” You shook your head and sniffed, feeling tears on your cheeks. 

“But it doesn’t mean you have to be a zombie, Y/N.”

“It does, Sam… Because he was my life…” you felt another wave of pain slowly spreading all over you. “And my life is gone.”

There were not many reasons for you to get out of your room. Sometimes you were so hungry it was unbearable, so you would visit the kitchen, steal some fruit or some leftovers. Bathroom was a must, so was a bar full of whiskey; you were torturing yourself with its taste as it reminded you of Dean but it was also an escape.

You didn’t see the outside world for half a year, every 24 hours of the last six months you spent in the bunker. You weren’t sure if you remembered how to hunt. Sam reduced the amount of cases, he didn’t have much more strength than you. At the beginning you were going through books, papers and the internet, making calls, catching witches and every monster that could know something; just to find a way to bring Dean back. All you got was a collection of dead ends, so you quit and locked yourself in your room. You couldn’t do it anymore, not without him. 

After weeks of crying, screaming, falling apart and fighting with nightmares; yearning for him got so intense that only feeling him would stop you from suicide. So one night, in the middle of the panic attack, you rushed out of your room, stumbling and shaking. Inhaling shallowly, you hit his door before you opened it and dropped to your knees in his room. His scent surrounded you, deepening the wound in your heart but healing the longing at the same time. You struck the drawers, picked up his shirt and held it to your nose, inhaling deeply. That’s how Sam found you, clutching Dean’s shirt on the floor, crying silently. 

Since then you were doing this regularly, not sure why. You were floating around every place you ever walked and everywhere you talked. The Impala that stood unused since her owner didn’t come back. You could spend hours there, sitting in the corner of the passenger seat, staring at the place he used to sit in while you were driving down the road. His wide smile on his face while he sang along with old tapes...

The kitchen where you cooked together, the library table you occupied while cleaning weapons or doing research, or drinking. The map table you threw your bags on after coming back from hunt. Dean’s cave where hours of movies were watched and boxes of pizza were emptied. Your room, your bed where the two of you exchanged your love so many times you forgot the life before being with him. 

One day screaming and crying wasn’t enough. The burden was so heavy you needed to get this all out of you or you were sure the first bullet you’d shoot since that night will end your suffering. Finding a piece of paper and a pen you wrote down everything that what was biting you, addressing the letter to Dean. You didn’t finish it right away; from time to time you would add a new sentence or paragraph, writing letters that you’ll never send and he’ll never see. 

Every line was full of emotions, full of pain and memories. Feelings you wanted to reveal, all those words you wanted him to hear. Letters were your pain, tears were your dots. 

The agony went on and on, slowly killing you inside, leaving behind just a walking vessel. If not for Sam, you would have ended this a long time ago but he gave you this little, tiny kick to wake up the next day. But it didn’t mean the suffering was smaller. Actually, sometimes he made it worse. Watching Sam dealing with his brother's death, the death of the man who raised him, who was a home, a strength, a family - it was just another dagger stuck in your heart. Their bond was one of the most incredible, beautiful things you've seen in your life and now it was broken too. 

Finally, you even got to the point where you were laying on your bed, blankly staring at your phone. It didn’t make any sense and you knew it but you wanted to see his name on the screen so bad that your fingers started trembling. Entering any room in the bunker gave you this stupid, false hope he'd be there. You realised how this place was full of him, how wherever your eyes laid on, it reminded you of Dean. And just then you understood - no matter what you do or where you go, it will haunt you. The feeling of loss, of emptiness, of nonsense. The feeling of regret and guilt that you didn't save him, didn't bring him back. 

"I thought I was strong…" you muttered one day, sitting at the library table, bringing Sam's attention to you. He frowned and looked at you, slightly shaking his head. 

"What?" You tightened the grip on the mug with already cold tea inside and with the corner of your eye you noticed him standing up, then sitting on the chair right next to you. "Hey…" he put a hand on your thigh, assuring you it's okay to speak up.

"I thought I was strong, Sam. I thought I could deal with it, I was telling myself it's just a matter of time and it'll be okay, it'll be normal. Time heals the pain right?" you chuckled pitifully. "But…" you swallowed the lump in your throat. "But it's not better at all, Sammy," you whimpered and looked at him.

Tears in your eyes, worry and pain in his. You opened your mouth but before the right words came out, he managed to brush single drops away from your cheeks with his thumbs, giving you a sad smile. 

"Though my heart is broken… it keeps breaking everyday," you cried out and in a second Sam pulled you into his arms, closing in a tight hug. You clawed at his shirt and allowed yourself to ugly cry, wetting the material. He was shushing you, stroking your hair as you were shaking in his arms. "I can't… I can't take it anymore. I- I can't." 

"Shhh, Y/N… it's okay. We'll figure something out," he promised but you knew Sam himself had stopped believing in it. 

There was no more hope, no faith. You tried everything; there was no door left that you could try to walk through. It was the end. 

Your end. 

There was nothing left except the pain. And the only person who could take this pain away, was the one causing it.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it. Feel free to leave some feedback, every word from you is gold :) 

Tags: @deanwanddamons @katehuntington @jay-and-dean @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee​

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[semenguine]

sshe brings me our fluffy handcuffs. puts them down in front of me. i stare at her waiting for an explanation. shes staring down at the handcuffs. are these for me? i giggle. she doesnt laugh. i stop laughing. eden? i say uncertainly.

i know this sounds stupid, eden says. her voice is calm, measured, even. but i’m gonna hurt myself. so, um, could you please put these on me so i can’t? are- are you okay? i ask. please put them on, eden says. okay, i say. i cuff her. what’s- i say. eden, what... are you- do you want to talk about it? are you fine?

i’m fine, eden says. she sits and stares down at her hands. i thought you were feeling a little better this week, i say. she says, i don’t want to talk.

so i’m quiet and she’s quiet. after a few minutes eden hunches over. i can hear her. struggling to breathe. i don’t say anything because i know she doesn’t want to talk about it. it gets worse. she slams her fists and her head against her leg. her breaths become desperate gasps. she curls in on herself in agony. and then writhes in it. she lets herself slide off the bed and fall on the ground. eden? i say. my voice is small. i’m sorry she says. and tears run down her face and her chest heaves and she hits her head against the floor again and again.

what’s happening, i say, terrified as her sobs give way to a tortured warbly almost-scream. she holds her violently shaking arms out to me, convulsing, take them off, she howls. i stare at her paralyzed and speechless. my fists are closed so tight my knuckles are white. the keys stay hidden by my tightly clenched left fist. 

please, she sobs. please, sierra, take them off. i feel myself shaking. why should i, i ask. she looks at me and the expression on her face makes something in my gut twist. it hurts so bad, she says. i can’t do it anymore. i’ll take them off- her breath hitches. if you let me call rue, i finish quickly.

she swallows, i see her thinking it over again and again and again. okay, she whispers. so i do. and she comes. hey, rue whispers to me when i answer the door. how bad is she doing? i shake my head. she’s, my voice chokes up. in the nursery, a baby starts crying. i jump, my organs tie themselves into knots. i- okay, rue rubs my back. deep breaths. take care of your kid, okay? eden’s in the bedroom? i nod. okay.

amara’s diaper is wet. changing it forces me into a state of calm. i like crying i can easily stop. i open the top of my bathrobe and lean her against my chest. we share body heat. i sit on the floor. amara yawns. okay, i say. you’re okay? her little leg kicks involuntarily. do you wanna share some of your okayness with me? i whisper. she’s a nice baby. as she falls asleep on me, she does.

i put her in her crib and sit on the floor by myself. i compartmentalize. 

finally i go to the bedroom and face eden and rue. eden’s curled in on herself on the floor, she’s silent. rue sits near her, clearly at a loss. i produce the keys from my bathrobe pocket. um, i swallow. i’m gonna unlock the cuffs now. eden looks up and then nods. 

i do. and she’s still. your kids are beautiful, rue says. thanks, eden mumbles. she scratches at her arms. you can always talk to me, you know, says rue. eden just shakes her head. she mumbles something about how she can’t talk to anyone. 

do you want something to eat, i ask rue. sure, rue nods. i like the distraction of taking out food and warming it up for her. take rue to the family room, eden tucks her hair behind her ears and says ok. i bring rue her food and i turn on the tv. eden sits on the couch. 

eden’s quiet for a while. rue and i chat idly. she asks about the babies. eden glances briefly at rue and then is up in a flash, dashing into the kitchen. i shriek and follow, rue is close behind me. what are you doing, i cry. she seems a little disoriented, and then she quickly turns and starts opening drawers.

i think she’s looking for knives. rue quickly wraps her arms around eden, who sobs and starts begging and pleading. c’mon, kid, rue says, desperately. please. talk to me. let’s talk about this. i don’t wanna talk, she sobs. let me go. she starts struggling for breath again. i turn away and cover my ears and close my eyes and i leave mentally.

the next thing i really notice is rue’s comforting hand on my back. she rubs it in circular motions. sierra? she says softly. i sniffle. my face is wet. i let eden drink, is that okay? i nod miserably. are you okay? she asks. i can hear the concern in her tone. i’m fine, i lie. my stomach churns. just worried that’s all. are you sure? she asks. i nod. i don’t really want to make this about me, its about eden, so i go to the family room. eden’s huddled up on the floor, rocking and drinking. her eyes are dead. i want the ground to swallow me up. 

i just stand there and watch her drown her thoughts out. rue sits on the couch. i stay standing. eden knows what she’s doing. it doesn’t take her super long to knock herself out. 

how long has it been like this? rue asks after a while. my lips feel dry. i don’t know, i say. maybe 6 months. sierra, are you sure you’re okay? rue asks. you’re- it’s okay to be worried or scared or angry or sad. those are all normal responses, you- it’s okay if you need a break. do you need a break? 

no, i’m okay, i say firmly. 

how could i justify that? eden wouldn’t take a break from dealing with me. no matter how bad i was. she never did. she was always there. every manic episode, every depressive episode, every idyllic period in between, every suicide attempt, every hop-on-a-plane-and-fly-to-new-york, every seizure and heart failure and lock-myself-in-my-art-room-for-the-depressed-artistry-of-it-all. she soothed and fed and bathed and held me through it. so now it’s my turn. if she felt like this the whole time. on the verge of shattering every second of every minute of every hour of every day. how sweet she is. how merciful. how tumultuously self-sacrificing she is. 

that she would never once tell me so.

is she still going to therapy? asks rue. i shake my head no. is she still taking drugs? i look down guiltily. i don’t really know what’s going on anymore, i confess. i- i wasn’t helping by getting involved. i was hurting her so i stepped out of it. at this point, i- i, my voice gets all weird and caught and choked. like i just don’t think... i trail off. 

you don’t think? she prompts. i shake my head. sierra, please? what exactly is going on? i shake my head some more. nothing, i whisper. 

i have thoughts sometimes. like if i had to raise the twins by myself could i? and what would i tell them about their mother when they asked me? i’d tell them she was strong and smart. she loved to cook. she had the best jokes. and the most beautiful smile i’d ever seen. and life is a funny thing. and the world is a cruel one sometimes. to some people more than others. but most importantly i’d tell them how much she loved them. more than the moon loves the tide.

im really sorry rue, i say. i wish i- i- i can’t explain or talk about it, i look at eden. she lies on the floor in a crumpled, unconscious heap. hopelessness overwhelms me. we’re fine, i say. we’ll be fine. she’s quiet for a moment. if you need anything, she says. just anything. call me. okay?

okay, i say.