The two of us locked inside the little room for The Vigil.
The Day Of The Funeral. This still doesn't quite seem real. I feel like I'm surrounded in a cloud of reality, but every time I try to reach out and grab some, it drifts away. I'm staring at my lap. My black-clad legs sit perfectly still, as if they're dead, disattached from my body.
"Misty," I hear Brock's voice, calling my name as if he was far away.
"Yes?" I raise my head and glance dimly around me, as if I was waking up from a long nap. Funeral homes are terribly bland, I think inanely. Everything grey, everything quiet.
"Duplica's here," he says, and she's standing awkwardly before me.
"Hello, Misty." The pools of her blue eyes look at my quietly, and I stare at her for a long time without emotion in my face.
She hesitates, moving towards me, then finally deciding to sit down in one of the hard-backed funeral chairs.
For a long time we sit in the silence, the long, stretching silence of the suffocating room. I concentrate on mustering up some sort of emotion. Anything. But the tears were still hidden in my soul.
I sneak glances at each of the faces in the room. Brock's, void of emotion, was a perfect replica of my own. Then my gaze travels over to Duplica's face.
It is so different. The eyes are downcast and full of expression, unlike mine or Brock's.
We only have the dead, staring pupils. But her eyes are burning, staring at the floor with such a ferocity that I wonder if the people down below feel it. The heat suddenly travels up to me; I glance over again and see she is watching me.
Her sudden outburst startles me, cutting through the thick silence in the room.
"Misty! I did it! Okay, it was my fault! I didn't think that I'd be able to live with myself if I never told you!"
For a moment her shrill words ring out and they seem to echo in the silence.
"What are you talking about?" Brock whispers tightly.
"Told me what?" My blood has suddenly run cold, and even though no one has said a word about Ash, something inside me tells me that he's involved.
For a moment she says nothing, and then the words start tumbling out, one by one, eager to push past one another and enter into the depths of my mind.
"I thought he would have told you. I thought you would have known. Misty, if I thought it would come to this, I would have never done it. I was stupid, so stupid. You'd both be better off if I'd never been born. But it happened, and it's time you know. This is all...my...fault.."
~*~
He never got my letters. I never got his. All by the greed of a jealous twelve year old at the pinnacle of her own existence. She took them, she said. Took them and read them. Her little young eyes reading over my thoughts, my love, my travels. All because she thought she loved him more.
A fury begins to burn somewhere deep inside. Suddenly every part of her little plan makes sense, laid out before me.
"Misty?" She still hasn't gotten a response from me, and my eyes are staring, wide, into hers.
"Manipulative bitch."
For a moment, silence.
"You hate me, don't you?" She's asking, tears choking her voice. It sounds as if she's holding something back, whether it be a storm of tears or anger, I don't know. "I never knew it would come to this, Misty. When I saw how it was affecting him, I felt so guilty. I tried to help, but I guess I can't do anything right. I'm..I'm sorry Misty." Her mixture of guilt and anger seems to float around me, but not to penetrate me.
I sit here, feeling like a monster, disattached from all things soft and beautiful.
"It's too late for that, isn't it, Duplica? You should have thought of that ages ago! But now Ash is dead, DEAD, and it's all your fault!" I don't know there are tears on my face until I feel the cold, salty sensation in my mouth.
The unadulterated hatred I feel for her right now is nearly too much to bear, and it scares me. Here is this girl, whom I'd thought was myt friend, and she'd betrayed me.
I stood up and exited the room without a word, feeling their gazes on my back.
~*~ It was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to go through. I saw his silent, waxen face, so beautiful and silent, lying silently. He almost looks like he's asleep, but when I touch his cheek with my shuddering hand, it's cold.
I love him so much it makes me cry.
Maybe one day, the frenzied war in my head will calm. Maybe one day I'll forgive Duplica.
Maybe one day I'll stop missing him.
Until then I don't know if I can bear it.
~*~
Another ficcie finished *smiles happily* I'd like to thank you guys for all the reviews! I love reviews! They're one of my favorite things besides donuts and sleep, and I REALLY love donuts and sleep!!! ^_^ This story turned out more depressing then I thought it would, but that's okay, because I love angst anyways! And btw I'm writing a new story now about Jessie and James (felt like changing the pace a little bit!)
x~Aurora chan
The Day Of The Funeral. This still doesn't quite seem real. I feel like I'm surrounded in a cloud of reality, but every time I try to reach out and grab some, it drifts away. I'm staring at my lap. My black-clad legs sit perfectly still, as if they're dead, disattached from my body.
"Misty," I hear Brock's voice, calling my name as if he was far away.
"Yes?" I raise my head and glance dimly around me, as if I was waking up from a long nap. Funeral homes are terribly bland, I think inanely. Everything grey, everything quiet.
"Duplica's here," he says, and she's standing awkwardly before me.
"Hello, Misty." The pools of her blue eyes look at my quietly, and I stare at her for a long time without emotion in my face.
She hesitates, moving towards me, then finally deciding to sit down in one of the hard-backed funeral chairs.
For a long time we sit in the silence, the long, stretching silence of the suffocating room. I concentrate on mustering up some sort of emotion. Anything. But the tears were still hidden in my soul.
I sneak glances at each of the faces in the room. Brock's, void of emotion, was a perfect replica of my own. Then my gaze travels over to Duplica's face.
It is so different. The eyes are downcast and full of expression, unlike mine or Brock's.
We only have the dead, staring pupils. But her eyes are burning, staring at the floor with such a ferocity that I wonder if the people down below feel it. The heat suddenly travels up to me; I glance over again and see she is watching me.
Her sudden outburst startles me, cutting through the thick silence in the room.
"Misty! I did it! Okay, it was my fault! I didn't think that I'd be able to live with myself if I never told you!"
For a moment her shrill words ring out and they seem to echo in the silence.
"What are you talking about?" Brock whispers tightly.
"Told me what?" My blood has suddenly run cold, and even though no one has said a word about Ash, something inside me tells me that he's involved.
For a moment she says nothing, and then the words start tumbling out, one by one, eager to push past one another and enter into the depths of my mind.
"I thought he would have told you. I thought you would have known. Misty, if I thought it would come to this, I would have never done it. I was stupid, so stupid. You'd both be better off if I'd never been born. But it happened, and it's time you know. This is all...my...fault.."
~*~
He never got my letters. I never got his. All by the greed of a jealous twelve year old at the pinnacle of her own existence. She took them, she said. Took them and read them. Her little young eyes reading over my thoughts, my love, my travels. All because she thought she loved him more.
A fury begins to burn somewhere deep inside. Suddenly every part of her little plan makes sense, laid out before me.
"Misty?" She still hasn't gotten a response from me, and my eyes are staring, wide, into hers.
"Manipulative bitch."
For a moment, silence.
"You hate me, don't you?" She's asking, tears choking her voice. It sounds as if she's holding something back, whether it be a storm of tears or anger, I don't know. "I never knew it would come to this, Misty. When I saw how it was affecting him, I felt so guilty. I tried to help, but I guess I can't do anything right. I'm..I'm sorry Misty." Her mixture of guilt and anger seems to float around me, but not to penetrate me.
I sit here, feeling like a monster, disattached from all things soft and beautiful.
"It's too late for that, isn't it, Duplica? You should have thought of that ages ago! But now Ash is dead, DEAD, and it's all your fault!" I don't know there are tears on my face until I feel the cold, salty sensation in my mouth.
The unadulterated hatred I feel for her right now is nearly too much to bear, and it scares me. Here is this girl, whom I'd thought was myt friend, and she'd betrayed me.
I stood up and exited the room without a word, feeling their gazes on my back.
~*~ It was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to go through. I saw his silent, waxen face, so beautiful and silent, lying silently. He almost looks like he's asleep, but when I touch his cheek with my shuddering hand, it's cold.
I love him so much it makes me cry.
Maybe one day, the frenzied war in my head will calm. Maybe one day I'll forgive Duplica.
Maybe one day I'll stop missing him.
Until then I don't know if I can bear it.
~*~
Another ficcie finished *smiles happily* I'd like to thank you guys for all the reviews! I love reviews! They're one of my favorite things besides donuts and sleep, and I REALLY love donuts and sleep!!! ^_^ This story turned out more depressing then I thought it would, but that's okay, because I love angst anyways! And btw I'm writing a new story now about Jessie and James (felt like changing the pace a little bit!)
x~Aurora chan