A/N: Hi guys, I'm May!! (Well, that's not my name, but that's wat I go by.) Anyway, this is my 1st CB fic. I think it's pretty obvious who the character is. It's supposed to be drabble-y.
"She smiled and pretended and oh, how did her world turn upside-down and inside-out? And she watched while all the other happy little children giggled and smiled and God, she wishes that she was one of them again, even if for just a moment."
Disclaimer: I own Misha and the plot line. That's about it.
She sat under the tree and just wanted to cry. It was in the corner of the park. No one would bother to look there. No one would much less even care where to look.
Because when has anyone ever cared to look?
But the tears just couldn't, no, they just wouldn't come out. No, they shouldn't come out. Because in her, there was a tiny spark of hope that someone cared.
Is that hoping for too much?
That someone cared that she was alone. That someone cared that she wanted to cry. That someone cared that she wanted to scream and hit and break-down. That someone cared that she needed someone.
Because that's all anyone's ever wanted, isn't it?
She wanted someone to care that she would draw. And that she drew to most obscure things.
Wonder what people would say if they saw…
Of her not being who she is. Of her being someone else. Of her being someone who isn't alone. Of her being normal. Of her being who she used to be.
It's funny how once we've lost something, we realize it's all we've ever wanted.
She took advantage of who she used to be. She never thought she, her, the person who she is, no, the person who she was, would become what she is. Because she didn't want it.
But all life gives you are things you don't want.
And she lost it. She lost it all. She lost everything she ever wanted, no, everything she ever needed.
People lose and gain, and strangely and then again, not so much, they lose more than they gain.
And she was sick of it all. Sick of all the pretending. Sick of all the lies. Sick of all the forced too-enthusiastic-to-be-real smiles and fake way-too-preppy-to-be-possible giggles and the false how-can-you-not-see-through-this cheerfulness.
But what does it matter what you want when you have an image to keep up?
She made herself smile and be happy and pretend. But she wanted to know how her world turned upside-down and inside-out. And as she watches all the other truly happy little children, so young and liberated, who didn't have a care in the world...
Wait until they're older and they'll be doing the same thing you are.
God, she wishes that she was one of them again, even if for just a moment. To be worriless, conscience-cleared, free. She doesn't even know what that felt like anymore. It all feels so far away.
It's times like these when you wish you had a time machine, isn't it?
She couldn't handle it anymore. How could she? She had to pretend everything was okay, allowable, alright. How could anyone do that for so long? She was a survivor who barely lasted a few weeks.
Anyone who lasted longer deserves a medal.
She hadn't done anything to deserve this. So why did it happen? Of course, because once again, life chose to pick on the helpless people.
Isn't that the point? To pick on the small, defenseless ones? Isn't it so sick and twisted?
She could blame that tree with the 13 apples at her christening party. She could blame Alice Angel for looking at that tree. She could blame Charlie for always trying to be so courageous and messing up everything. Or she could blame the Red King for starting everything.
Because you had nothing to do with it, right?
She could even blame her father's friend for not giving her the part in the movie, so she wouldn't have to go get those flowers, or that small pig-tailed girl who was also at the audition for making her blame her mother for not getting the role.
It's the things they said that led to the reason you're here in the first place.
Suddenly, all of it stopped. Broke. Just by a small voice.
Such small things have such big influences, don't they?
"Excuse me, are you alright?" She looked up and saw a little girl of 4 years. She had light auburn hair and bright green eyes. Those eyes. They reminded her of the oh-so-broken-hearted Miss Angel.
The eyes of one of the ones who made you lose everything.
Should she lie? Say "Of course, why do you ask?" Make the little girl feel silly for even asking? Make everything seem like super-duper-amazing-happy-perfect land? Because she so badly wanted to tell this child the truth of the world, but settled for "I'll be fine."
It's still a part lie, but better than a full lie, or the whole truth.
The little girl continued on and said "My name's Misha, and if you're upset, you can tell me. My mommy says I'm good at helping people."
Ah… so naïve, so innocent, she will believe anything anyone will tell her.
Misha is rewarded with the reply of "Oh, just leave me here for a while and I'll be better."
Liar, but she doesn't need to know that.
And she looks into Misha's eyes, and sees something so rare. She sees true concern, true anxiety as to what will happen to this much older stranger, true worry as to what's wrong. She sees true caring.
It's such a strange thing to see.
And she can't hold it in any longer. She bursts, spilling every feeling, every word, every emotion and knows the little girl won't understand. And when she's done with her tears, she looks up to see Misha still there, about to cry. She asks the little girl why she hadn't left and the answer surprises her.
And very little things do that lately.
"You said so yourself. You needed someone to care. So I'm here to care." With that, little Misha started to spill tears. It also surprises her that such a young girl could be so empathetic. And she looks into those horrible green eyes and realizes two things.
And those two things will never be forgotten.
First thing: Misha's eyes weren't as horrible as she had previously conceived. Because they weren't Alice Angel's eyes. They were Misha's own. Second thing: She has actually found someone who truly cares…
--
And then, 8 years later, when she is 20, and a theatre actress (unlike the film star she wanted to be), she looks into the crowd, just before the performance starts and she sees, in the front row, familiar auburn hair and concerned green eyes, no longer concerned, but excited.
She sees Misha for the first time since that faithful day in the corner of park. Misha is now 12, how old she herself had been when they had met. And, as the play started, Olivia Vertigo acted the best she had ever done, because she was doing it for the first person who had truly ever cared.
I wrote this a really long time ago. I just sent it to my friend, and she told me to post it soon. After a little conversation and a quick edit, i made up my mind to do so. She also said she'd make up an ff account, just so she could review (even though I allow anonymous reviews). So i expect u to be the 1st one to review, CML... Also, don't ask where this came from. I probably couldn't come up with a good answer if u did... plus I can't remember. And yeah… Review!!
~May