Confessional

Ann sighed and stared at the blank wall in front of her, elbows propped up on the wooden desk. She had taken the mirror down, not wanting to see her own reflection, though it was no surprise to her anyway. Her eyes bleak and dry from crying, hair in a tangled mess, still held in a braid from the yellow ribbon she had put in her hair weeks before. The colors from her clothes had faded, along with her happiness.

She had tried many times to pull herself together, but everything around her made her remember. Those few memories made her cling to life itself, desperate to find some form of happiness.She could hear her father outside her room, his deep voice forming the syllables, letting them fall over his tongue like rolling waves crashing over the shore. How she loved the sound of his voice. Yet he was talking in a voice barely above a whisper. She knew he was talking about her, because they both knew how she hated people talking about her behind her back. After a moment, the door was pushed open, and a thin girl entered the room. Ann had seen her before, wandering what had seemed aimlessly along the forest paths a few times, red hair highly visible amongst the browns and grays.

Their eyes locked, and she couldn't look away. The girl had deep ocean blue eyes, but they were different somehow. As if she had seen too much, like the eyes of someone who had seen death. Except these eyes looked almost like they had absorbed the tears rather than cry them. "Ann... right?" She said in a low voice, pulling one of the extra chairs out for herself. Ann gave no reply, merely slanted her head. "My name's Nami... Your dad and my mom talk quite a bit. She thought it would be a good idea for me to meet you."

Silence.

"Not a talker, huh?" She wondered out loud. "You know, I'm not too used to talking to strangers either, but..." She left her sentence hanging, shrugging her shoulders, as if to say, "but I'm here anyways."

Ann averted her eyes, the cliff hanger finally letting her look away. She was terribly uncomfortable, but there was something about this girl that made her want to share her deepest, darkest secrets, to just sit there and cry. "Look," Nami started, after a few minutes of unwanted silence. "I know it's none of my business, but you can't just sit here and mope for the rest of your life."

Ann turned, as if struck, "You don't know what it's like-!"

"To lose a parent?" Nami interrupted. To Ann's startled expression, she added, "Your dad told me."

"What makes you think you can help me?!" Ann yelled, after a long pause. "I don't even know anything about you!"

"Ann, please. Calm down." Nami said, in a voice so sweet Ann couldn't resist. She sat down in her chair as if dumbstruck, like a small child deciding to stand up for them self, then instructed otherwise by the teacher, somehow proving them wrong. "You know how I said my mom talks often to your dad?" There was a short pause, letting it sink in. Then: "I lied. I don't have any parents. They both died in a horrible fire, thirteen years ago. My mom, as I put it, is really a family friend, Ruby. She and your dad compete in a lot of cooking tournaments, which is how they met." Nami stood up, her eyes suddenly turning ice cold, sending shivers down Ann's spine. Ann was embarrassed, acting as if the world had ended just because her mother had died, when here, in front of her, was living proof that it could be worse. She looked down at her socks, not being able to face Nami's glare. She sniffed a little, hoping it wouldn't be heard amongst the dead silence.

Surprisingly, Nami kneeled down beside her, just low enough to look up into Ann's teary eyes. "My parents loved me. And just because they left me doesn't mean they can't stop, it just makes it harder for me to believe it. But you still have a loving father, one that can dry your tears, and hold you." Nami raised herself a little, lifting Ann's chin so that their eyes still met. "And that's the way love works, Ann. I've known long enough that there are still people out there to hold you. Some only try to replace loved ones, when no one can really replace what's lost. But they can fill empty places."

Author's Notes: This is years old, but I kind of like it, so I threw it in anyways. Comments are appreciated!