Lost Chances
Author: Garasu
It burned. That's about all the young woman could use to describe the feeling that she felt at the moment. Standing as she was on the soft grass of a hill, watching a group of people cluster around a small patch of earth. Everything burned, which went against what people normally said they felt in situations like this. The general consensus was always a lack of feeling, and yet, at that moment the young woman could only wonder at the feelings, the pain. Desperately, she spent several moments wishing that she could feel nothing, but sadly, could only be denied.
It's supposed to rain on days like this as well, the girl thought, glancing at the azure sky and fluffy white clouds that floated serenely through it, mocking her. The sun was shining at its strongest, as if it wanted to somehow make up for the lack of warmth that resided deep within the group of people underneath it. Though, strangely, the rays of bright yellow light never reached the girl, even though she was standing upon the crest of a hill, high above the people she watched so intently. She never felt the warmth that was given freely for all to enjoy. She never could, not anymore it seemed.
The young woman remembered why she came, but only well enough to have plenty of excuses not to join the people bellow her. How could she? Not after what she had done to them. All for naught, she thought, though that line seemed rather ironic. They were all there, at the base of the hill. Everyone that she had remembered meeting in the twenty years of her life, the very same people that he had met as well. Some were concealing their emotions well, their stoic expression of gloom a stark contrast to the people who openly wept, or failed miserably in their efforts to remain strong, and the girl pitied them.
Pity - it was such a funny emotion for her to feel, much less acknowledge. In her relatively few years of life she had never so much as pitied anyone until now. Nor had she ever shed one tear since that fateful day she buried her mother. No, not one tear, for them, or for herself. It was weakness, a fault to show such things in front of people. Even the ones that were hiding it well were to be pitied. She could tell how they truly felt, how could she not? It reflected in their eyes, vacantly staring at the small headstone or in a random direction other than down. It was told in their posture, loose and hanging when one should be straight and prideful, even in moments like this.
Slowly, once the services were done, the group of people began to disband. The young woman briefly caught a few looking around, as if they were trying to find something that was supposed to be there, but coming up short. Or someone, she thought guiltily, making sure that those precious few persons who did glance around, never caught sight of her. After some time, even those that were once closest to her gave up and walked off, buried deep within their own thoughts and anxious to forget the events of that day as quickly as possible. The young woman waited even longer; she watched as the burnished wood coffin sunk into the ground, and then began to be covered over by the soft brown earth. Still, she waited, until she was sure that anyone that could possibly notice one straggler never did.
Finally, once she felt it was safe, she walked down the slight incline, the black leather of her shoes sinking deep with every step making walking difficult, as if the ground itself was trying to prevent her from doing the action she sought to do. All too soon, however, she arrived and took one last glance around her before bending down on one knee to place a small object on top of the ebony marker before her mind could convince herself yet again that she should not be here, that she should not be doing this. Quickly, the young woman took one last glance at the object in front of her before walking off, never to return. Her pretty and delicate face carefully schooled into an expression as unreadable as a porcelain mask. Too many memories, too many things to remind of her of what she had done wrong. They would all haunt her now, things that she could have done, but never once contemplated until it was too late. Wasn't that always the way? Hindsight was twenty-twenty after all.
As the sun sank into the horizon, its dying light finally in agreement with the scene that took place just moments ago, its red orange flame caught the object placed upon the marker and refracted infinitely within its perfectly faceted sides - only to be refracted yet again through a tiny drop of liquid resting next to the ring. Together, tear and diamond sparkled brightly as the life now resting below this living ground once did before they, too, were finally snuffed with the onset of evening. Only then did the white letters engraved into the stone begin to stand out in bold relief, letters that simply read:
2000-2020
End
Author's endnotes: Well, this was never meant to see the light of day…outside of the darkscribes board anyway. But I was taking a look at it this evening, after finishing the final draft of Cross Examination and decided that with a few more words added and little cleaning up it could be like my first Eva fic: I respect Beer. That is to say, an experiment, a way to prove to myself that I could indeed write something that is a little bit angsty, and little bit dark. In case you haven't really noticed, I like to concentrate on happier themes within Eva. It's just the way I am ^^. Well, anyway, hope you enjoyed this little of depression (it went along great with my mood at the time of writing). It was written and finished within the space of an hour, and was not seen by a soul before being released. Comments and Criticisms are, as always, welcome.