Sigh. I used to really like this show.
She collected her things from the RV while he was still playing cards at Tori's. Or at least, she meant to. But when she got there, all she could see were the empty spaces they used to fill and the home she'd come to have and how she didn't even know they shared so much stuff.
Like, who got to keep the goldfish he'd won her at the fair? Was there some rule for broken-up couples, some plan for who got the fish or that flannel shirt that they'd both worn so many times, they didn't even know whose it originally was?
But oh god, she said it. Broken up. That was what they were now, one whole broken into two sharp pieces that didn't know how to fit anywhere else. At least, she felt sharp. She didn't think anyone else could ever learn to love sharpness the way he had.
She'd been given one chance, and she'd taken it and now it was mangled beyond repair. She knew other people got tens upon hundreds of chances, but really, how could a girl like her expect more than one? Especially when that one chance had been so beautifully perfect?
She was too this and too that and now he didn't want her anymore. He used to call her rare, like she was something precious. Now she was as ugly and commonplace as the rocks that made up his bumpy gravel driveway, one she'd tromped up so many times in her combat boots that little pieces were stuck in the rubber soles.
As she slowly pulled her clothes off of the hangers in his tiny closet, she found herself drowning in things they'd done when she wore them. That was the shirt she'd worn when he got them the necklaces. There were the jeans she'd had when he'd whispered, just for her, "Who said I stopped?"
And there was the skirt she'd worn when he'd said, "Where do you want to get married?" Like there was no question, like it would always be them and them alone.
The only question now was how she'd spend her days. She wouldn't hang around with the little group anymore, her only connection to them had been through him. That connection, along with so many others, had splintered when she'd said ten.
So she'd… what? Find a new boyfriend? As if anyone would ever want her again.
Make new friends? But she didn't want friends, she wanted to be alone. Leave her alone.
She wasn't even that talented, really. She sang, but she had none of Cat's power, Tori's range. She could act, but he took every acting class on the planet and she wasn't about to risk his partnership in one of Sikowitz's frequent scene projects.
She could write, but everything she wrote came out sloppy and was only meant to frighten and provoke, not to inspire and put her name in lights.
She could leave Hollywood Arts, go to normal school. She'd never have to see him again, never have to worry about their pity.
She had to. How could she stand to return to those halls, where so often they'd leaned against the lockers to kiss? How could she watch him in class, watch flocks of girls throw themselves at his feet?
How could she stand it when he finally picked one?
It was settled, then. Normal school. Normal people.
Sick, twisted new life.
Not sure if I plan to continue this or not. Expect sporadic updates, maybe.