PG/T for some language and angsty/darkness. No flames will be tolerated. You can leave now if you are a hater. You don't wanna deal with me if I see you flaming, seriously.
I do not own Kim Possible. It belongs to Disney.
'Behind broken glass…lies the tale of an angel…'
……………………………………………….
'So much for the Rockwaller family tradition, huh Bonnie?'
That's how it had ended. Those words, it was driving the last shards of ice and glass through her heart. Driving the last amount of pain her body could hold into her tired, sore eyes. Everything she had worked for, everything it had meant to her, was gone. Gone. Just like that. And all to some stupid, scruffy, flea-bitten loser who'd done just about every thing to show-off and take the spotlight from her. Two losers, actually. The other might as well have shoved a 'You're not gonna win this Bonnie, because the heroes ALWAYS win' sign in her face. This had meant something to her, something she could take home and be proud of. All that time she spent practising, while them two went on their freaky missions, not even trying, still managed to sweep up the carpet from under her, and landed her face first at the bottom.
This competition, this show had meant more to her than to anyone who'd been there, especially that loser pair. This ran into familial territory, she could show her sisters how she was as good as them, that she would be somebody someday. And, she had her twelve year talent behind her to give her a boost. Everyone else who entered were pathetic, they were nothing. SHE was the one who should've shined that night. SHE was the star, SHE was the perfect one.
Or so she had thought. But these thoughts were slipping away from her like the tears that seeped out of aqua irises.
Crouched down against a mirror and a pole in the back-stage ballet room, Bonnie Rockwaller sobbed her heart out. Her white-blue swan ballet costume, which had seemed to shimmer and shine as she performed, like an angel, had fallen to dullness, and was dishevelled, the swan drooping low and the outfit crumpled and obscured. Black smudges adorned the outfit as Bonnie's eyeliner and mascara dripped down her face and onto the outfit. The brunette hair, always so soft, luscious and perfectly styled, stuck out behind and to the side of the cheerleader's head, as she ran her hand roughly through it one more time.
The sobs continued, loud and clear. Choking sounds escaped her throat. The silence of the hall and its surroundings only made it louder and more noticeable. The school was in entire darkness now, including the room Bonnie was in. She hadn't wanted anyone to find her, to see her like this. But it didn't really matter now. NOTHING mattered.
How could anything matter more than this?
Leaning her face against the cold mirror, the tears still flowed, like a waterfall cascading down her cheeks. Her eyeliner and mascara were still visible running down her cheeks, though it had long gone from around her eyes, leaving a faint trace of black, like a soft drawing with charcoal. The brunette didn't even attempt to wipe her face, just stayed there, slumped against the glass, almost like she was dying. She felt like that, inside. The room was pitch black, the windows covered with the dusty, faded crimson curtains.
The anger was still there; lingering in her stomach like lava in a dormant volcano, ready to erupt at any point.
The pretty teenager's arm suddenly grasped the pole slotted across the mirror as she heard the door open behind her. Great. Who could have found her like this, in this state? Surely they would lord it over her, I mean, who wouldn't? Queen B, sobbing her heart out. She could only hope it was Tara, or one of her fellow cheerleader's [excluding her]. They would understand, help her through this [if anyone ever could.]
Her heart stopped momentarily. Suppose it was her MOTHER, or SISTERS?! Then what?
She knew already. She would run out of the room, shoving past them hard, and run somewhere, anywhere. But where?
Bonnie didn't know.
She grasped the pole with one hand even tighter. This room had, and was her sanctuary through the talent show. Who dared to enter it when she was having a moment alone?
The door opened a little more, letting beams of light in to which Bonnie squinted at, turning quickly away from door. She wrapped one arm protectively around herself, as a glower tried to form upon her face. But the tears still flowed; silently now, as the person entered. They took two steps in, and two forward, before closing the door behind them. The room stayed silent, so silent the brunette could her the other's breathing. It came in normal breathes, but with shakes. Bonnie shook her head mentally, but stayed absolutely still, the front of her ballet skirt getting wetter and wetter by the second.
She heard the person move on the spot, possibly reaching out to her, before stopping and retreating. Bonnie waited; she hoped the person would just go away; leave her alone; leave her to spend a night here in her own comforts, the way she wanted it to be.
The person suddenly decided to speak, to separate the tension and calmness of the air between them.
"Um…Bonnie?" The voice was soft and full of concern, but Bonnie's eyes widened in fury at who it was. "I-I'm sorry you didn't win the show. I h-had…um…no idea how meant it much to you."
The emotions, the ones that had laid dormant for so long, when all that she had was grief and upset upon her, came suddenly rushing to the surface, and erupted like a volcano, crossing over with tornados, and all of nature disasters.
Bonnie leapt up, turning at super-speed on her feet, facing her opponent with a look that would've made the world's most wanted criminals shrink and cry in fear.
"Well, you know what, Possible?!" The cheerleader screamed furiously, her face contorted in a grimace. The sound escaping her was shrill and high, a scream with evidence of torment and disgrace in it.
"You know, I don't need you're sorry! If you hadn't been here the first place, with your stupid, brain-less lap dog at your side, none of this would've happened! I would've been the star for once; I would've come out top. But no, you won't allow anyone to beat you, will you, you stupid bitch? You're so into yourself, so in love with you, that you'd never let someone like me win. Neither would Stoppable! I could've won that, I tried so hard, I practised for so long, just for you two to come and take it all away from me! You didn't even know what you were doing, did you? With you two around, I might as well be dead for all you care!"
The words kept spiralling out, with no control over them whatsoever. It was past that. Kim Possible stood there, with an expression and feeling like she been stabbed over and over again. Bonnie Rockwaller stood across from her, tears and make-up smeared across her tanned face, throat and chest, her outfit mangled, her composure shattered. Her fists were balled up so tightly that they might burst any second. Her face was beyond recognition; this wasn't the normal Bonnie Rockwaller; calm, cool, collected, flirty. This was something new; something that had been building for years, and would possibly do so for years to come.
Kim Possible stepped forward, despite her shaking body, and dishevelled features. Her arms became more and more outstretched.
"Bonnie…" she began calmly, though her voice clearly wasn't in the mood for it.
"Just get out." The youngest Rockwaller interrupted quietly, now staring down at the floor, and turned away from the heroine. This shocked the red-head even more.
"But…" Kim continued, trying to get through to the brunette; to reach her; to anything.
"ARE YOU DEAF?" Bonnie suddenly screeched, her voice now full of fury and fire. She whirled around one last time, and everything about her was like a few minutes ago, but with more volume.
"I SAID GET OUT! GET OUT!" She screamed again, as Kim backed away slowly, but still didn't move to the doorway.
"GET OUT! GET OUT! I DON'T WANT YOU NEAR ME, YOU BITCH! GET THE HELL OUT! GET OUT!"
The screams continued, as the red-headed cheerleader, startled, grasped the door handle quickly, and hastily exited; but not before sadly catching one last glimpse of the broken ballet dancer.
As soon as the door closed, the poor, weary brunette broke down once again, covering her face and eyes as she sobbed, even more this time, into her hand. She bent over, crouching back down on the floor, reversed away from the mirror now. Tan arms moved to her knees, as her head was buried into them, as Bonnie Rockwaller continued to sob and sob and sob.
.................................................................................................................
Kim may have tried to help her; to reach out to Bonnie in a way that showed maybe she shouldn't get it right all the time, and that Bonnie isn't the one who should be pushed aside just because she doesn't get along with the head cheerleader and crime fighter.
Kim had no idea. No idea how tedious her life was. She didn't know how Bonnie struggled with day-to-day life, trying not to screw up, and to make an image for herself, one her sisters would look at, and finally accept her as a family member. One that would show Rockwallers were the best, and would always come out on top.
That is were Kim Possible failed; she had no idea about Bonnie Rockwaller; no idea.
Maybe no-one did.