- Messages
- 58
- Character Biography
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The room was bathed in golden light, silent as the tomb it was.
Emelia sat on the single chair within, staring at the empty bed. Thick dust coated every surface, even the linens. Everything except the ratty old stuffed bear, faded brown fur and dull black bead eyes staring sightless across the gulf. A space as empty as her heart, although it did not ache in the same way. This place was a reflection of broken promises, unfulfilled dreams.
In the silence, she could hear the ghostly echoes of laughter and squeals of delight.
Gone.
She had never wanted this. It was never supposed to happen this way. But damn her traitorous heart if, for a handful of years, there had been some happiness. Maybe there had even been love there. There had certainly been the joy shared by raising the fruit of their union whether or not either had thought the road would lead here.
A threadbare toy sitting on an empty, disused bed.
What am I doing? Sitting and yearning in the velvet embrace of silence for an apparition cruel and fickle and beyond her comprehension. Languishing in the sweet and painful memory of not only the dead, but the living. How do I make it stop? How do I make him stop hurting me? Why did he stop...
She shook her head, scrubbed angrily at her face as a tear traced through the makeup that hid this morning's bruises.
Glass eyes, staring.
That was when it had all come undone. That was when she had lost control of what was left of her life. That was when she became a victim of her own circumstances. Bright red rage swam in the depths of her soul beneath the surface of sorrow. Was it anger or despair that made he reach out for a forbidden fruit? Their gifts have hooks in them.
A warning. One she was not heeding, lost in the desire for a way out. A way to make everything right again.
What am I doing? "What I have to," she whispered into the emptiness twinned in her soul. "Take this piece of my sorrow, Patron. Take it, that maybe..."
Emelia sat on the single chair within, staring at the empty bed. Thick dust coated every surface, even the linens. Everything except the ratty old stuffed bear, faded brown fur and dull black bead eyes staring sightless across the gulf. A space as empty as her heart, although it did not ache in the same way. This place was a reflection of broken promises, unfulfilled dreams.
In the silence, she could hear the ghostly echoes of laughter and squeals of delight.
Gone.
She had never wanted this. It was never supposed to happen this way. But damn her traitorous heart if, for a handful of years, there had been some happiness. Maybe there had even been love there. There had certainly been the joy shared by raising the fruit of their union whether or not either had thought the road would lead here.
A threadbare toy sitting on an empty, disused bed.
What am I doing? Sitting and yearning in the velvet embrace of silence for an apparition cruel and fickle and beyond her comprehension. Languishing in the sweet and painful memory of not only the dead, but the living. How do I make it stop? How do I make him stop hurting me? Why did he stop...
She shook her head, scrubbed angrily at her face as a tear traced through the makeup that hid this morning's bruises.
Glass eyes, staring.
That was when it had all come undone. That was when she had lost control of what was left of her life. That was when she became a victim of her own circumstances. Bright red rage swam in the depths of her soul beneath the surface of sorrow. Was it anger or despair that made he reach out for a forbidden fruit? Their gifts have hooks in them.
A warning. One she was not heeding, lost in the desire for a way out. A way to make everything right again.
What am I doing? "What I have to," she whispered into the emptiness twinned in her soul. "Take this piece of my sorrow, Patron. Take it, that maybe..."
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