AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't own Pokèmon. Not any part of it. The
likelihood of me EVER owning Pokèmon or anything else of value is not good.
Cassidy stood by the window, staring out at the rain. It was raining very, very hard, but in some inexplicable way the rain had a warm, cheerful affect. It helped ease the pain of knowing that only yesterday she had spoken to Butch, and now he was dead, gone forever.
Butch was found in the forest with a shotgun lying beside him and a bullet through his temple.
It wasn't an accident, she knew. Oh, everybody said it was, and Cassidy sure as hell wanted to believe it was, but it wasn't. How could you shoot yourself in your temple while aiming at Stantler or a Rhydon? How? You couldn't, that was how. Butch had gone out into the woods with guise of hunting, then he'd killed himself.
There. She had finally admitted it, mentally if not verbally. Killed. Himself.
Cassidy knew why, too. Because she didn't love him. Or at least she didn't think she did. But he had loved her, deeply, passionately…then when he discovered the feeling was not mutual, he had committed suicide.
"I wasn't worth it," she whispered out the window, into the pouring rain, which was no longer comforting but glum, the way rain ought to be. It seemed like mother nature was mourning.
Cassidy reflected on what could have possibly attracted him to her. She didn't even consider herself to be pretty, and even if she was, Cassidy knew it couldn't be just looks if he was going to take his own life over it.
Why hadn't she loved him back? she wondered. "I love you now," she whispered, realizing it herself just as she spoke the words. "I love you now!" But now was too late. Love wouldn't bring him back.
He was dead. Not only dead, but dead at his own hands. And it was all because of her.
Cassidy's tears rolled down her cheeks like the rain rolling down the window.
Cassidy stood by the window, staring out at the rain. It was raining very, very hard, but in some inexplicable way the rain had a warm, cheerful affect. It helped ease the pain of knowing that only yesterday she had spoken to Butch, and now he was dead, gone forever.
Butch was found in the forest with a shotgun lying beside him and a bullet through his temple.
It wasn't an accident, she knew. Oh, everybody said it was, and Cassidy sure as hell wanted to believe it was, but it wasn't. How could you shoot yourself in your temple while aiming at Stantler or a Rhydon? How? You couldn't, that was how. Butch had gone out into the woods with guise of hunting, then he'd killed himself.
There. She had finally admitted it, mentally if not verbally. Killed. Himself.
Cassidy knew why, too. Because she didn't love him. Or at least she didn't think she did. But he had loved her, deeply, passionately…then when he discovered the feeling was not mutual, he had committed suicide.
"I wasn't worth it," she whispered out the window, into the pouring rain, which was no longer comforting but glum, the way rain ought to be. It seemed like mother nature was mourning.
Cassidy reflected on what could have possibly attracted him to her. She didn't even consider herself to be pretty, and even if she was, Cassidy knew it couldn't be just looks if he was going to take his own life over it.
Why hadn't she loved him back? she wondered. "I love you now," she whispered, realizing it herself just as she spoke the words. "I love you now!" But now was too late. Love wouldn't bring him back.
He was dead. Not only dead, but dead at his own hands. And it was all because of her.
Cassidy's tears rolled down her cheeks like the rain rolling down the window.