Reminder of Sorrow
Lightning crashed and the wind whipped open the window as the storm raged outside. Thunder scared Rinoa awake and she sat up in bed abruptly, her heart racing in her chest. She ran a slender hand through her raven hair and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Glancing around, she saw the open window and pulled back the covers. The air in the room was cold and it brought chills to her bare skin, so she pulled a robe over her nightgown and walked to the window. Cold, hard rain hit her in the face and she squinted to protect her eyes as she forced shut the broken window latch. With it closed, she replaced the curtain and turned to go back to the bed. Slowly, she padded barefoot across the floor, drawing the warm robe closed with one hand, letting the other armrest at her side. Her feet stopped walking, however, when she got to the edge of the bed.
She cocked her head, trying to sort through her feelings. Subconsciously, her hand dropped the robe and reached for the silver chain around her neck. Her fingers grasped at the single ring there, desperately searching for its companion, but finding none. No, he had taken that too when he had left.
The left side of the bed. She took a small step forward, inching her way towards this alien side of the bed. She had never slept in that side until a few nights ago. She had tried to resist, but the temptation had been too great.
She took another cautious step and raised a knee to the soft sheets. The mattress gave under her weight as it had with the body that had lay there before her. Her fingers ran over the blanket and she sprawled out, burying her head in the pillow. It hadn't been that long; she could still smell him, still feel him beside her, still sense his presence...
It had only been three weeks since Squall had gone. She remembered the tears in his eyes as he stood in the windshield of the Ragnarok, watching her as he started the engine. She watched the red machine carry off her one reason for existing and then ran straight back into the house, only to cry for three days. Three miserable days-
From the front of the room, Rinoa's ears picked up a series of barely audible soft thuds and the jingling that had become so familiar to her. Squall's boots and the ammo that hung from his belt. She quickly raised her head from his pillow and let her eyes dart around the room. Her tears fell freely now, and she let them fall, bringing with them her makeup and sorrow. She swallowed hard, choking on the salt water from her chocolate brown eyes. He was not there; the noise had been an illusion, a fantasy of her heart broken mind.
The end had been in sight for quite a while; it was no big surprise when it actually happened. To Rinoa, it was like the light at the end of the tunnel; she had believed it was the answer to their troubled times, when in reality it was a freight train coming her way. She and Squall were just too different. His fear of being left alone again prevented him from opening up to anyone. She knew he wanted to love her, but his internal protectiveness wouldn't let her in his heart. He could say that he loved her, but he'd never really mean it; that's what hurt the most.
She had just closed her eyes when she felt the sheets beside her move. She glanced around, looking for this invisible source able to make her hear things and move blankets. Ridiculous. You're delirious, Rinoa.
Selphie, Irvine and Zell had been crushed when they heard the news; each one had their turn of comforting her. Quistis sat with a smirk on her face. The heartless bitch. She had always wanted Squall to herself; Rinoa had been the obstacle, the enemy to be destroyed at all costs. And she was the first one Squall ran to. Does it make her feel good to know she had stolen someone's knight? Does she sleep better knowing that despite the fact that she could never have Squall that Rinoa couldn't have him either?
Rinoa wiped a tear from her wet face roughly with the back of her hand. She hoped Instructor Trepe was having sweet dreams that night. Tired of fighting, she slid back to the right side of the bed, now cold from her being gone so long. In the dim moonlight coming from the window, something glittered in the distant corner of the room. She narrowed her eyes and stepped out of the bed once more. There's only one thing in the world that could have that size, that shape-
The gunblade. It stood on its tip against the wall and she approached it carefully. She hadn't noticed it there before and wondered how he could go for three whole weeks without it hanging at his side. Maybe he just forgot it there, or couldn't remember where he left it. No, she thought, wrapping a small hand around the handle. She stretched her index finger to reach the trigger and struggled under the weight as she raised the long sword in front of her face. He had not forgotten it. He left it purposely to remind her of what she could not have. What she had worked so hard for but yet somehow didn't deserve.
A bolt of lightning struck a tree outside and a branch fell to the ground with a loud crash. The lights in the already darkened house went out, leaving Rinoa standing in the middle of the now candle lit room. She walked over to the mirror, gunblade shining wickedly in the dim light and watched herself. Her once pretty face was now tear-stained, red and puffy from the crying. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who will be the fairest of them all?
Before she could change her mind, she tilted the sharp edge of the gunblade towards her face, and pressed it against her forehead. The blade penetrated her soft skin easily and as she drug it along, she pulled the trigger. The blow sent her backwards, and she stumbled to her knees, blinded with pain. The gunblade was knocked several feet from her and landed with a loud clank on the hardwood floor. She held both hands to her head, blood running down her nose and cheeks and onto the floor.
After several minutes of wooziness and lightheadedness, Rinoa slowly opened her eyes. She pulled a hand down only to find it red with blood, sweat and tears, but that was to be expected. She staggered to her feet and somehow made her way to the mirror. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, now who's the fairest of them all? She reached out to the reflection of herself and traced the wound with her finger, leaving a bloody streak. She had been careful to go from right to left, just as Squall's did. She wandered into the bathroom where she cleaned up a little bit, and bandaged her new feature. So it wasn't a cosmetic statement, but then again, who would really care? She did her best to clean up the blood on the floor and then came across the gunblade. The barrel was still warm from being fired and she picked it up and put it back in its corner. She didn't bother wiping the blood off its shiny blade; Squall would find that when he finally came to pick it up.
She slowly circled the room, blowing out each candle but one and stopped at the window. The storm had slowed down significantly in the few minutes she was awake and she turned back to the bed. The left side of the bed. She took a small step forward, inching her way towards this alien side of the bed. Then she raised a foot to the soft sheets and stepped over it, disrespecting whoever slept there. She settled back into her side, and pulled the covers up close to her neck, close to the companionless ring. A slender hand reached up and carefully touched the bandage on her head. Her reminder of sorrow. Then she rolled over and went back to sleep.
May 21, 2001