09-14-2018, 01:59 PM
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as love filled night gives way to day
Shaking fingers dragged through unruly curls; air pushed through bitten lips and a sore throat.
Hiccups jumped against her sternum as tears slid down blotchy cheeks to fall against soft, worn wood. Knees curled into her chest, chin tucked into their valley as she tried to make herself as small as possible. The more she pressed her spine into the wall, the more she would disappear - the more she could pretend like Suiteheart and Margaery were still alive. Like she hadn't failed them so completely. Sobs shook her thin frame as she smoothed the pad of her thumb over a string, like she might hear a whisper of Suiteheart's voice if she plucked it.
It had been nineteen days since Margy and Suite had passed. Nineteen straight days of misery and grief and watching the world go on while Hazel was trapped in her bubble, stuck. She hated being feeling so utterly crippled in the wake of their death, but it wasn't something she could physically help. Part of her soul had been ripped straight out of her body with their last breath. It left a gaping whole that Hazel couldn't figure out how to fill. The only person she ever wanted to see was Bastille, but sometimes it felt like even he hadn't been effected to the same intensity. It also felt like he was hiding something from her, but she didn't care - she just wanted his comfort.
Now she was constantly gasping for breath, stuck under the waters of life without all of her life-savers. Solace was nowhere. Relief was nowhere. The pain that oozed from her open wound had no medication to heal it; what did you use to heal a broken heart? Hazel missed her family. She missed the comfort and the shelter and contentment they brought. She missed them until it was all she could think about. She wanted to preserve them, their memory - introduce every person that joined the Ascendants to their old rooms and say "This is Margy and Suite's room...they would have loved you." Hazel wanted to immortalize them, wanted to hang their pictures in the stars for the whole world to see because she couldn't find any other way to say thank you.
Gently, reverently, she reached for the instrument in front of her, trembling fingers timid. She felt like this was wrong, like it wasn't allowed: to sit in their room, surrounded by their photos and their perfectly made bed because Margaery refused to leave it a mess; by Suite's gem collections and the drawings from their children. She hated how this room smelled like dead roses and the ocean shore - she hated that it was abandoned and empty and the sense of comfort that filled her lungs when she stepped over the threshold was draining away.
Hazel hated that she couldn't let them go, that she carried the photo Suite left her folded in her back pocket wherever she went. She couldn't let them go - she couldn't let them go.
Sliding the ukulele into her lap like a key in a lock, Hazel picked out a few notes, blinking. "I am not the only traveler -" Her voice broke, wobbling over the words. " -who has not repaid his debt; I've been searching for a trail to follow again. Take me back to the night we met..." Her voice cracked again and she paused, struggling to push down the sobs that made her chest jump. She switched to a new song then, having forgotten the words to the other. "We never failed you, even though we might have felt that way, we never left you...but it hurt to see you in so much pain. And I would of stayed there forever....But it didn't..." She bit her lip. " but it didn't work out that way..."
Hiccups jumped against her sternum as tears slid down blotchy cheeks to fall against soft, worn wood. Knees curled into her chest, chin tucked into their valley as she tried to make herself as small as possible. The more she pressed her spine into the wall, the more she would disappear - the more she could pretend like Suiteheart and Margaery were still alive. Like she hadn't failed them so completely. Sobs shook her thin frame as she smoothed the pad of her thumb over a string, like she might hear a whisper of Suiteheart's voice if she plucked it.
It had been nineteen days since Margy and Suite had passed. Nineteen straight days of misery and grief and watching the world go on while Hazel was trapped in her bubble, stuck. She hated being feeling so utterly crippled in the wake of their death, but it wasn't something she could physically help. Part of her soul had been ripped straight out of her body with their last breath. It left a gaping whole that Hazel couldn't figure out how to fill. The only person she ever wanted to see was Bastille, but sometimes it felt like even he hadn't been effected to the same intensity. It also felt like he was hiding something from her, but she didn't care - she just wanted his comfort.
Now she was constantly gasping for breath, stuck under the waters of life without all of her life-savers. Solace was nowhere. Relief was nowhere. The pain that oozed from her open wound had no medication to heal it; what did you use to heal a broken heart? Hazel missed her family. She missed the comfort and the shelter and contentment they brought. She missed them until it was all she could think about. She wanted to preserve them, their memory - introduce every person that joined the Ascendants to their old rooms and say "This is Margy and Suite's room...they would have loved you." Hazel wanted to immortalize them, wanted to hang their pictures in the stars for the whole world to see because she couldn't find any other way to say thank you.
Gently, reverently, she reached for the instrument in front of her, trembling fingers timid. She felt like this was wrong, like it wasn't allowed: to sit in their room, surrounded by their photos and their perfectly made bed because Margaery refused to leave it a mess; by Suite's gem collections and the drawings from their children. She hated how this room smelled like dead roses and the ocean shore - she hated that it was abandoned and empty and the sense of comfort that filled her lungs when she stepped over the threshold was draining away.
Hazel hated that she couldn't let them go, that she carried the photo Suite left her folded in her back pocket wherever she went. She couldn't let them go - she couldn't let them go.
Sliding the ukulele into her lap like a key in a lock, Hazel picked out a few notes, blinking. "I am not the only traveler -" Her voice broke, wobbling over the words. " -who has not repaid his debt; I've been searching for a trail to follow again. Take me back to the night we met..." Her voice cracked again and she paused, struggling to push down the sobs that made her chest jump. She switched to a new song then, having forgotten the words to the other. "We never failed you, even though we might have felt that way, we never left you...but it hurt to see you in so much pain. And I would of stayed there forever....But it didn't..." She bit her lip. " but it didn't work out that way..."
© MADI
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better