In response to Snavej's angst week prompts!
Warning: These won't be happy. Like, at all.
Angst Week:
"An Angel in the book of life wrote down my babies birth. Then whispered as she closed the book, 'Too beautiful for Earth.'"
Chapter One: Children
Luella Davis' day had started off usual enough.
She had finished a paper that needed to be written, with unfound haste and a sense that something wasn't quite right. She felt like she was possibly forgetting something, or that the sense of forgetfulness would turn into something much worse. Brushing the new found feeling aside, she accompanied her husband for breakfast, and kissed him goodbye when he left for one of his business trips. She let out an exasperated sigh after closing the door behind him, and returning to the empty house that had somehow been embedded within her. It seemed nowadays Martin was always leaving from one place to another, not often home or around, in spite of her condition. Her stomach had a small bulge, and she ran a hand fondly over the ball that was now her stomach.
A boy. She could just feel it.
She would tell him in a few days. They had been trying for quite some time, and she knew that he was disappointed with the lack of news. He buried himself in his work, the disappointment and anger always marring his once perfect face. She knew he didn't blame her. He blamed himself. He was reclusive now. Cold and untouchable. Every display of affection from her was met with rejection and the closing of another door. When he finally came home, often in the midst of night from another late night at work, he smelled of expensive perfume and disgrace.
(She also had a hunching suspicion that those business trips weren't really business trips at all.)
Somehow, however, she buried that theory into the darkest corner of her mind and busied herself away with cleaning and work.
Every blemish she scrubbed off, she only felt worse. Her fingertips began to cramp, and she rested for a second. A singular moment to wipe the beads of sweat off her face. His infidelity had left her the hollow shell of the woman she used to be. The person before wouldn't have accepted it, and most certainly wouldn't put up with it.
But this new girl was weak. She was fragile, and could snap as easily as a rubber band.
Their marriage was fine, she reminded herself.
The baby would be fine.
And suddenly, snap.
She stood back up, freezing at the warm water that ran down her legs. The smell of Clorox and bleach filled her scent, and she wondered briefly if she had accidentally splashed herself. Her vision blurred, and she stared down at the red droplets that cascaded down her legs.
It would always be her, wouldn't it? The people she cared for, the people that she loved. Whoever controlled the hazy lines between life and death, they always took the one thing that mattered to her the most.
She recalled her childhood before she was able to retain herself, and the memories swept over her bitterly, like all the fond memories had been fogged over and tainted with a hand print. Even at such youthful ages, she had always wanted a child.
She sank to her knees. Her bangs hung over her angular face, which would soon turn gaunt and thin and frail, and she tugged at her hair. She wanted to rip it out from the roots. She wanted to claw her face away until there was nothing left. Nothing meant the agonizing pain would stop, after all. She had never met him, never had his fingers intertwined with hers, but somehow it still hurt. She hadn't expected the pain to be so agonizing, especially for someone whom she had never met in her entire life. He would look just like Martin, with eyes like hers and a chin like hers and a nose like his.
Her blue eyes flickered to the ceiling, shining softly with unshed tears. She was weak, unable to move. The red crimson around her had been warm, but it had shortly turned cold. She scarcely noticed. How long had she been sitting here? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Time held no meaning in this grey place.
The world she had so carefully woven was tattered, and falling apart at the seams. She had known the risk before they had tried, yet she selfishly proceeded on. She needed to wake up. She pinched herself with trembling, blood stained fingers. Nothing. The redness stained her wrist in a smeary handprint, and she vaguely heard someone screaming in the distance. She wanted to tell them to be quiet, that she needed silence, and she was unable to recognize that the anguished cries were coming from her lips.
Her head lolled, and the hatred and self-loathing grew within her. Startled by this unusual feeling that petered the endless numbness, she bit down roughly on the inside of her cheek so hard that she tasted metallic copper. Tears streaked down her face, but she paid no mind. She couldn't feel anything anymore. She just continued to bleed. It felt like she was swimming through it, sinking into a red world of hopelessness and broken dreams. She heard the soft squeals of a baby crying, (only existent in her dreams, which always seemed to shatter with a singular touch) and she screamed harder and louder.
She fumbled to climb up, her dress stained and torn.
She longed to rip apart the nursery, and burn it to the ground. She wanted to snap. She needed to snap. Her hatred for herself filled her to the brim, threatening to overspill.
The baby cries continued, and so did her tears.
When there finally was blissful silence, Luella Davis composed herself.
She would have to tell Martin. Eventually.
But if Luella told, she'd have to tell him about the two others already buried in the garden.
She glanced out the window. The sunlight seemed almost unfitting for a day like to day. Her eyes narrowed in on the garden as a gust of wind shook the trees.
The white flowers seemed to dance upon her children's graves.
A/N: I decided to do angst week since I hadn't participated in all the other prompts because life and high school and ugh. But I really miss Ghost Hunt. I read a GH fanfiction almost every day, and it was my first anime, so I felt like I had to write for this. Especially the angst prompt. I love angst, and hate fluff. There has to be something wrong with me.
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