27/03/2007 18:20:00
[Disclaimer: It makes me sad when I say I don't own Duo Maxwell. Really, you have no idea how sad.
A/N: Very much so AU; I don't usually like to do this, but I started this story not intending for it to be a GW fic.
Break-ing Point n: the point at which somebody loses the ability to deal physically, psychologically, or emotionally with a stressful situation.
Or the ability of all three.
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It was desolate. It was dirty, and overgrown with weed. It was a place nobody passed by unless they had to, and nobody wanted to live near.
It was the train tracks.
Home to vagabonds and the classic place to bait the hero by endangering the heroin, it was no wonder nobody cared to stop
And notice the girl standing still by the tracks, her eyes kind of blank…her gaze points toward the city lights, but really, sees nothing.
Her iPod blasts 30 Seconds to Mars—her current obsession. What if I fell to the floor/Couldn't take all this anymore/What would you do? What would they do? Would anyone notice? Did anyone care enough to notice the absence of this girl who blended into the background, who slowly took in everything while everything happened in fast forward, x8?
Nothing she ever does is good enough. Everything she does for those she loves is misinterpreted, misunderstood. As much as she brushes it off, builds up her wall, acts like a bitch…it hurt. And it hurt so bad. She's afraid to care and to let it be known she cared, so she lines her words with venom.
The train nears the city, its voice at once soft and like a sigh, like a mom tuting at her child's misdeeds, and at once high and shrill—screaming the way she wants to scream.
The ground rumbles, an indication of its approach, and her fear builds up—ba-bump, ba-bump her heart pounds. And now two yellow eyes stare at her, smoke billowing above them, scattered wherever the winds take them. Ba-bump, ba-bump, babumpbabumpbabump—
At the very last second a pair of callous hands roughly pull her back, her heels almost catching in the tracks.
