Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to the WB and are the property of the WB television series, Gilmore Girls, which is owned by Amy Sherman Palladino and other affiliates.
Author's Note: I don't know if I am going to continue with this or not. It is simply the product of one of those inspirational moments where a writer needs to express herself. I have merely borrowed my favorite characters to act for me.
Lost in London
She'd seen him. She'd met him. She'd befriended him. She'd even fallen for him. Fallen for him hard. Fallen for him fast…too fast. She didn't know what hit her.
Until it was too late.
And now what did she have to show for it…? A deflated ego, a delusional state of mind, a wounded heart.
She lost friendship. She lost happiness. She lost love.
Why? She didn't know. She didn't understand. None of it made sense.
She had never let anybody in before. She'd been with others, but never had she let them in- not fully. But with this one…with him…she let her guard down. She slipped. And it was the most forgiving and unforgiving slip of all her life.
Opening up for him was like opening the gates of heaven. He showed her purity. He reminded her of innocence. He was her escape from the unceasing rush of life.
Then he was her fire. Blazing passion that left scorch marks. He was hot, he was intense. And he was memorable, in every aspect that was he.
His smile and his smirk. His baby eyes and his masculine jaw-line. His gentle fingers and his embracing arms. His swaggering amble and his brisk strut. His sharp banter and his soft whisper. He was a switch, sometimes off, sometimes on, but forever repeating his purpose. And his purpose was that he was always there. Never, not once, had he not been there.
Until one day, he was gone.
And all of a sudden, he had become the chill that ran down her spine. Cold. So very cold. Empty…emotionless. An absolute void.
Heaven had shoved her out and slammed its doors behind her. So there she was. In between. In purgatory. With nothing but the gates of hell before her.
Was she really going to let heaven shut her out? Let her self become a forgotten soul of purgatory? Was she really going to give up and accept the opening gates of defeat? Of hell?
Yes. The one she loved was gone. Tristan. Her light in the speck of darkness had died out. And now what surrounded her was the total blackness of reality. Harsh reality. Painful reality. She wanted escape. She needed escape. She had to escape.
Rory Gilmore escaped.
***
What made her laugh the most was how Dori pronounced that one word. Escape. It made her laugh to the point of tears. Full droplets that do not even roll down the cheek but are pulled directly to the ground by gravity. Droplets that actually "splash", sound effects and all. Plop.
"Es-cop-ay!" Rory Gilmore laughed so hard. Yet, in all its heartiness, the laugh was empty. No emotion. If her mother could see her now, she'd be sick. Lorelei would take one look at her daughter, and have no recognition of the Rory that left for college five years ago. This was a different Rory; an empty one. A shell of the former.
The bags under her dull eyes were physical evidence of her empty laughter. Of her emptiness period. Nearly two months stowed away in her grandparents' penthouse in London made the twenty-three-year-old look a frail eighteen or nineteen. Skin and lips paler than usual. Hair scraggly, unkempt. Clothes not ironed and hanging loosely against her body. She had grown much thinner than usual.
The trashcans of the penthouse were overflowing with empty coffee cups and empty takeout cartons. DVD cases littered the family room floor. The bed, left unmade. The entire place, not clean.
Rory Gilmore was sick.
Physically was obvious. Emotionally was expected. Mentally was frightening. Never had Rory been mentally unstable. Never had her mind been incapacitated. Never had the intelligence of Rory Gilmore faltered in all her years.
But life was different now. She had left. She had run away. She had escaped.
Did she feel any better in her new world? No. Yet she did not notice. She didn't see the dirtiness, the sickliness of her current state. She was utterly blind.
She did not care anymore.
Caring left when he broke her. When he crushed her heart and marred her dreams permanently. Her future meant nothing from the moment he was out of the picture. Rory was a flower left without water. Left to wilt…left to die.
This is how she felt. Whether it be reality. Whether it be truth. Whether it be the delusional state of a broken heart. She did not know or even care.
She was no longer Rory Gilmore.
Emotion- gone with the tears of London's incessant rain. The tears of absolute pain. Of utter confusion. Of utter loss. Yet, she hadn't cried in months…because tears meant nothing.
Totally numb. Kept in incessant isolation. Rory was lost in London.