Life carried on.
It just went on and on.
It was as if what she said were mere mutterings gushed to the wind and never quite received by the one person who she was directing the words toward in the first place - because it took a lot for her to be honest, a lot more than she could have realized at the time.
It was days later when it finally hit her.
And it wasn't because she felt those words were a mistake, she didn't regret them at all.
She just wished she had said them sooner.
She just wished she had said them when there was still time.
She just wished she had said them while she was still being heard.
This stark realization only came when she was home one night several days later, having finished her shift. The apartment was empty. It always felt desolate as of late that she didn't bother turning the lights on, opting instead to lock up and head straight for her room, navigating slowly as she made her way in the dark. She made it into her bedroom without hassle, discarding her uniform in a restless manner as she prepared for bed.
It was monotonous now, this sense of routine. The sense of carrying on. It almost felt like it was the new normal and she was okay with that. As much as things felt wrong, she felt stronger in ways. She felt different. She could feel the shift happening inside of her; she was changing while everything around her seemed to stay the same. She was accepting of it, so it almost felt like the new normal – almost.
She bent down and picked up the nearest t-shirt she could find, flinging it over her near naked body as she set about climbing into bed, only for her foot to collide with something on the floor. She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a clearer picture in the dark. And for a brief moment debates just going to bed and forgetting about this object, but as her toe begins to prod it slowly, her interest becomes peaked, and so she gingerly reaches out and turns on the lamp.
When her eyes see it for the first time, she doesn't quite react. She just stares, trying to register it as it lies there on the floor, wondering why it was there to begin with. She can't even recall a time when Holly had read here; they had hardly even been here when they were together, always choosing to be at Holly's. And yet there it was.
It's a whole breath after when she feels the sting in her eyes and the weight in her chest as she bends down and picks it up. As her eyes glaze over the title of the medical book, she can't quite understand rationally why it is that she's responding this way. So strongly, to a book.
Yet she knows.
She knows it's not because of the book.
It's because it's hers.
Gail had been certain that she had rid of everything in her room that reminded her of Holly, but as her hands clasp onto the book, she realizes that she wasn't so sure after all.
She wasn't sure about anything, except for the immediate pain that was adamant on taunting Gail. It felt like the edges were beginning to scorch her fingers as her sight became blurred on the text. She could no longer read it; she could no longer feel it as she clung to it so helplessly.
Pitch black, pale blue
These wild oceans shake what's left of me
I'm only honest when it rains
If I time it right, the thunder breaks
When I open my mouth
I wanna tell you but I don't know how
I'm only honest when it rains
An open book, with a torn out page
And my inks run out
I wanna love you but I don't know how
Life carried on.
It just went on and on.
And it was only days later that it finally hit her.
The lyrics used at the end there is from the song Sleeping at Last - Neptune.
