06-27-2018, 09:13 PM
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"][this is so long and i proofread none of it so rip @ me]
Shay liked to think she knew everyone. One of her most special talents was her ability to read people. She could tell if they were happy, sad, angry - it didn't matter how hard they tried to hide it. She could hear the deep sorrow hidden in laughter. She could see rage like a dark cloud, resting in someone's eyes. She could pick out joy in plain-faced individuals. As someone who was so used to messing things up, she had had to learn how to read people. She had to learn how to tell if she stepped for far over lines or if she hadn't stepped far enough. Shay supposed this was also true because she genuinely cared for most everyone she met. She wanted, needed, to know how the important people in her life were feeling. She just wanted to help.
Soft sky-colored eyes watched as Hazel swallowed and then averted her eyes. Shay's eyebrows would knit together in deep concern. Something was clearly wrong. She opened her mouth, on the verge of an apology because it seemed she had once again taken one too many steps over a line, but Hazel was speaking. The other's words hit her like a ton of bricks because it was true. Despite feeling as though she had known Hazel her entire life, Shay had not truly known her for too long. Even so, that did not detract from the fact that she cared so deeply about the other; it also did not detract from the fact that Hazel had the habit of wearing her emotions on her sleeve, much like Shay.
In silence, she listened. Worry of motherly proportions drifted into her gaze as Hazel began to recount the story of her life. Without thinking, her hand moved to hold onto her necklace, toying with it as she listened. The comfort it often brought her was not quick-coming as she noted how upset Hazel was becoming. Shay wanted to tell her that it was okay, that she didn't have to tell her these things, but she held her tongue. Maybe Hazel just needed to talk this through.
Shay shook her head slightly. Hazel's mother never let her leave the house? Shay's parents had begged for that to happen. She had been so problematic as a child, going into her early teenage years. She had been consumed by rage and odd memories that did not feel as though they were her own (even though they were). Her parents could not fight her combative personality, so they let her come and go as she pleased. They had tried, and deep down, she knew they had loved her. The blonde female had, at one point, believed them to be horrible, awful people. Oh, how wrong she had been. Hazel's mother was far and away worse than her own had been, and that killed Shay's soul.
She watched as Hazel pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead against her knees. The sadness in the other's voice was difficult to swallow, but the matter-of-fact tone was even worse. Shay hated that this was something the Starstruck Guardian was used to. No one should have to deal with abuse from someone who was supposed to nurture you. When Hazel lifted her head and Shay saw the tears forming in the other's eyes, her chest felt tight. Hazel, for all her smiles and sunshine, had lived through absolute hell. And there was still more to the story.
Shay turned, reaching for a box of tissues that was sat atop a small desk to her right. When she returned to have Hazel, the other had once again placed her head down. Wordlessly, the Ecliptic Admiral placed the tissue box at Hazel's side.
If Hazel had been expecting a look of horror from Shay, she would have gotten that. The look was not directed at Hazel but at the girl's mother. She could not wrap her mind around the fact that Hazel had lived through all of this to tell the tale. Shay was not so strong; she would have crumbled beneath the terrors of Hazel's home life. Although she conducted herself as an almost indestructible individual, she broke as easily as a piece of fine china would when it fell to the ground. She often faked it until she made it, but Hazel... Hazel was made from an entirely different mold; she was more powerful than Shay could ever hope to be.
"You're not weak," Shay began, voice breaking under the emotions she was experiencing. Clearing her throat, she started again: "I promise you that you aren't weak. Haze, anyone that can find it within themselves to escape something like that is so fucking strong. Please see that, okay?" There were so many people who were often too afraid to leave what they had only ever known - even if it was bad. Hazel had not been afraid to save herself. "It takes more than guts to do what you did - to live through what you lived through, kiddo... And after everything, you still smile. Hazel, my dear, that's strength. Anyone who can live through hell and come out on the other side as loving and caring as you are is someone who's strong. I know it doesn't seem that way, but I swear to you that that's the truth." She hoped Hazel could understand and accept that. "And being covered in scars is okay too. I know they look ugly, and they're a constant reminder of everything that tried to break you. But they're also proof that you survived."
Shay's hand moved to the collar of her shirt. She moved it down just slightly to expose her upper chest and show Hazel two large marks. It was an old wound, but time had not made it fade. She let go of her shirt, returning things to normal and concealing her scars once more. "I have a few more, but that's the worst one. A few years ago, the group I lived with was attacked. I was captured, brought into the enemy's territory... It was a good thing my captor was a shitty aim." She shook her head minutely, but she knew that had he been better, she would have been dead. "I like to pretend I'm a badass, but I couldn't do anything. I was too scared. I just... let everything happened. I stayed there for weeks, too afraid to do anything. People had to rescue me." She paused as a slight embarrassment washed over her. "But you, Haze? You rescued yourself." She smiled, gently. "The scars I have don't make me any less of a person though - they don't make me weak or stupid or anything else. They don't make you any less of a person either. I promise."
The deputy listened, too, as Hazel began explaining things had not always been terrible. It broke her heart to hear. Hazel had once been surrounded by goodness, by light and love, and then slowly, it faded. The smiles turned to screams, the toys turned to knives, and fingernail polish turned to alcohol and drugs. People changed. That was one of the great horrors of the world.
"I hate that you had to deal with that for so long, Haze. No one should have to," she said, a frown upon her face. "And I know how hard it is to hate someone even after all the bad things they've done. I think it's human nature, you know?" She lifted one shoulder up in a half-shrug. It was perfectly fine to not like her mother as well. It was perfectly plausible to love someone and not like them at the same time. She knew that was probably how Hazel felt, so she left it unsaid. "Hey, just promise me you won't blame yourself for what happened with your mom, okay?"
Her frown deepened as Hazel began wiping away tears. Hazel was more than torn out about this, and Shay wished so badly she still had the ability to help soothe the emotions of others. She also wished for the ability to take away Hazel's pain because, God, she wanted to do that so badly. "It's okay, Haze, really," she began. "After everything you've been through, it'll take time to get used to things again. Don't beat yourself up over it." It was almost similar to Shay's feelings with alcohol; several bad experiences with it had caused her to tense up and feel uneasy around alcoholic substances. "I know you're trying though, and that's always the first step. And I would start with little things: handshakes, high-fives, that sort of thing. But only when you feel comfortable. No one is going to force you to do something you don't have to."
Shay liked to think she knew everyone. One of her most special talents was her ability to read people. She could tell if they were happy, sad, angry - it didn't matter how hard they tried to hide it. She could hear the deep sorrow hidden in laughter. She could see rage like a dark cloud, resting in someone's eyes. She could pick out joy in plain-faced individuals. As someone who was so used to messing things up, she had had to learn how to read people. She had to learn how to tell if she stepped for far over lines or if she hadn't stepped far enough. Shay supposed this was also true because she genuinely cared for most everyone she met. She wanted, needed, to know how the important people in her life were feeling. She just wanted to help.
Soft sky-colored eyes watched as Hazel swallowed and then averted her eyes. Shay's eyebrows would knit together in deep concern. Something was clearly wrong. She opened her mouth, on the verge of an apology because it seemed she had once again taken one too many steps over a line, but Hazel was speaking. The other's words hit her like a ton of bricks because it was true. Despite feeling as though she had known Hazel her entire life, Shay had not truly known her for too long. Even so, that did not detract from the fact that she cared so deeply about the other; it also did not detract from the fact that Hazel had the habit of wearing her emotions on her sleeve, much like Shay.
In silence, she listened. Worry of motherly proportions drifted into her gaze as Hazel began to recount the story of her life. Without thinking, her hand moved to hold onto her necklace, toying with it as she listened. The comfort it often brought her was not quick-coming as she noted how upset Hazel was becoming. Shay wanted to tell her that it was okay, that she didn't have to tell her these things, but she held her tongue. Maybe Hazel just needed to talk this through.
Shay shook her head slightly. Hazel's mother never let her leave the house? Shay's parents had begged for that to happen. She had been so problematic as a child, going into her early teenage years. She had been consumed by rage and odd memories that did not feel as though they were her own (even though they were). Her parents could not fight her combative personality, so they let her come and go as she pleased. They had tried, and deep down, she knew they had loved her. The blonde female had, at one point, believed them to be horrible, awful people. Oh, how wrong she had been. Hazel's mother was far and away worse than her own had been, and that killed Shay's soul.
She watched as Hazel pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead against her knees. The sadness in the other's voice was difficult to swallow, but the matter-of-fact tone was even worse. Shay hated that this was something the Starstruck Guardian was used to. No one should have to deal with abuse from someone who was supposed to nurture you. When Hazel lifted her head and Shay saw the tears forming in the other's eyes, her chest felt tight. Hazel, for all her smiles and sunshine, had lived through absolute hell. And there was still more to the story.
Shay turned, reaching for a box of tissues that was sat atop a small desk to her right. When she returned to have Hazel, the other had once again placed her head down. Wordlessly, the Ecliptic Admiral placed the tissue box at Hazel's side.
If Hazel had been expecting a look of horror from Shay, she would have gotten that. The look was not directed at Hazel but at the girl's mother. She could not wrap her mind around the fact that Hazel had lived through all of this to tell the tale. Shay was not so strong; she would have crumbled beneath the terrors of Hazel's home life. Although she conducted herself as an almost indestructible individual, she broke as easily as a piece of fine china would when it fell to the ground. She often faked it until she made it, but Hazel... Hazel was made from an entirely different mold; she was more powerful than Shay could ever hope to be.
"You're not weak," Shay began, voice breaking under the emotions she was experiencing. Clearing her throat, she started again: "I promise you that you aren't weak. Haze, anyone that can find it within themselves to escape something like that is so fucking strong. Please see that, okay?" There were so many people who were often too afraid to leave what they had only ever known - even if it was bad. Hazel had not been afraid to save herself. "It takes more than guts to do what you did - to live through what you lived through, kiddo... And after everything, you still smile. Hazel, my dear, that's strength. Anyone who can live through hell and come out on the other side as loving and caring as you are is someone who's strong. I know it doesn't seem that way, but I swear to you that that's the truth." She hoped Hazel could understand and accept that. "And being covered in scars is okay too. I know they look ugly, and they're a constant reminder of everything that tried to break you. But they're also proof that you survived."
Shay's hand moved to the collar of her shirt. She moved it down just slightly to expose her upper chest and show Hazel two large marks. It was an old wound, but time had not made it fade. She let go of her shirt, returning things to normal and concealing her scars once more. "I have a few more, but that's the worst one. A few years ago, the group I lived with was attacked. I was captured, brought into the enemy's territory... It was a good thing my captor was a shitty aim." She shook her head minutely, but she knew that had he been better, she would have been dead. "I like to pretend I'm a badass, but I couldn't do anything. I was too scared. I just... let everything happened. I stayed there for weeks, too afraid to do anything. People had to rescue me." She paused as a slight embarrassment washed over her. "But you, Haze? You rescued yourself." She smiled, gently. "The scars I have don't make me any less of a person though - they don't make me weak or stupid or anything else. They don't make you any less of a person either. I promise."
The deputy listened, too, as Hazel began explaining things had not always been terrible. It broke her heart to hear. Hazel had once been surrounded by goodness, by light and love, and then slowly, it faded. The smiles turned to screams, the toys turned to knives, and fingernail polish turned to alcohol and drugs. People changed. That was one of the great horrors of the world.
"I hate that you had to deal with that for so long, Haze. No one should have to," she said, a frown upon her face. "And I know how hard it is to hate someone even after all the bad things they've done. I think it's human nature, you know?" She lifted one shoulder up in a half-shrug. It was perfectly fine to not like her mother as well. It was perfectly plausible to love someone and not like them at the same time. She knew that was probably how Hazel felt, so she left it unsaid. "Hey, just promise me you won't blame yourself for what happened with your mom, okay?"
Her frown deepened as Hazel began wiping away tears. Hazel was more than torn out about this, and Shay wished so badly she still had the ability to help soothe the emotions of others. She also wished for the ability to take away Hazel's pain because, God, she wanted to do that so badly. "It's okay, Haze, really," she began. "After everything you've been through, it'll take time to get used to things again. Don't beat yourself up over it." It was almost similar to Shay's feelings with alcohol; several bad experiences with it had caused her to tense up and feel uneasy around alcoholic substances. "I know you're trying though, and that's always the first step. And I would start with little things: handshakes, high-fives, that sort of thing. But only when you feel comfortable. No one is going to force you to do something you don't have to."
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[glow=black,10,100]GOT MY DEGREE IN THE GUTTER,[/glow]
[glow=black,1,100]MY HEART BROKEN IN THE DORMS OF THE IVY LEAGUE