Hey everyone! This is something I've worked on during my summer, and this is just a prologue into it all. Like? No like? Let me know! (:
Stephanie Meyer owns all Twilight; I own original characters only, unfortunately.
Steam billowing out the doorway, along with myself, has got to be the best feeling that can ever be felt. It reminds the links in my brain of that amazing shower I just experienced and how relaxed I felt, and still continue to feel. Even if I am dwelling on this little setback.
Okay, who am I kidding, this is a drastic setback.
Maybe moving to the other side of a country isn't so drastic when a child is still a child and has that parental support system, but when a child is no longer a child, it's the worst thing. Ever. That non-child has to now try to be everything for themselves. Handle the world by themselves, and then handle the hardest thing besides trying not to cry at a Nicholas Sparks anything.
Relationships.
My eyes drift over the photo one more time before I replace it to its spot on my dresser mirror. I never thought a memory, recent or distant, could rip at the strings to my heart. I thought I was strong enough to walk away with all the cords to my heart still in my chest and not on my sleeve or in someone else's palm. A palm that squeezes the life out of the previously concrete organ, crumbling it with each pump to the sadistic rhythm, fracturing it with each snap of a cord.
BaDmp. Dadmp. Badmp. Dadmp. Dadmp.
I feel as though it's my heart under the floorboard, pumping. Pounding for this attention; the attention of a slowly fading dream. A non-existing reality: Lucas.
'Cold', 'Sluggish', 'Miserable' all described his face once I found him in Ireland, on a base of an all too familiar cliff. His hands, thick and strong, dirtying themselves. Dirtying themselves with the effort of creating a home; a ground level log cabin with the cobble-stone chimney, with luscious green privacy of hills and trees to create a dream that was slowly becoming apparent to be too long-lived, and maybe never could have existed to begin with.
A dream of togetherness.
My mouth tilted and formed words, combining several words into a sentence, and then that sentence into multiple sentences.
"Lucas, this cabin, was this your dream? A dream we've discussed? Does it mean what you once said it did or are your hands moving for the motions sake?"
His face, as I remember, still sluggish but no longer cold or miserable, lit up.
"Yes, for Carrie. To prove I'll always love her."
Surprisingly, it wasn't that moment that rendered me broken, it was the moment when I saw myself, where I once stood by Lucas' side, disappear and a beautiful woman take my place. A woman, who I've only dreamed of becoming, who was his match, who opened her mouth and said
"Thanks for being such a good friend to us."
A friend with dying dreams, false hope, and a broken heart. A friend who imagined much more in false pretenses, who smiled cheerfully as she turned her back and walked away. Hitched a taxi to drive to the nearest airport and flew back to the states. A friend who currently stands before a dresser mirror, replacing a picture of a log cabin and a beautiful couple with brilliantly bright smiles as they look down on their perfect family.
A father. A mother. Two children, an older boy holding the hand of an adorable little girl who is frozen, petting the golden dog beside her.
A picture of love and a dream that she should have never held onto.
Good Lord, I need another shower.
Like I said, let me know! (: