Title: Fading
Summary: There will be no warmth on this cold night. It's okay to cry, my dear, because you won't be here come tomorrow day. You will be free. WA3
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A harsh fire glimmered inside the fireplace, an inaudible light reflecting off the watcher's eyes. Her smile curled downwards into a private frown, certainly a sight she would've never shown the world. To everyone around her, she was a happy, careless figure filled with magnificence. But where she lay with the ashes, her misery seemed to come out when it was finally warm.
It wasn't like her life was awful. It was just something. It was something she could never explain. And for some odd reason, she felt different from those around her. A difference in which people she had told failed to understand. It wasn't her money, or her health, or her family. It was just this deafening misery that seemed to scar its way out. It was a sense of loneliness and disgust that grew within herself and people. It was losing faith in everything. Lord, even the Maxwell group could find a reason to be happy. And they were to spend the holidays in prison.
On the table stood a banquet fit for the wealthy, with no portions taken out of it. Even if it were Christmas Eve, she just couldn't find the meaning to swallow. Was it only because of what was going to happen, or was it because she had no one to eat it with? The delicacies sat, getting cold. The fire roared, keeping her last moments warm. After all, when you live this north, a few flurries of snow come now and again.
She sat with the fire reflecting off her eyes, recounting everything she had done in life. She even questioned why she wanted to do it. But it wasn't like anybody would stop her. A lonely, cold existence was not the dream anyone would want to live with. Outside her skin, people were moving and leaving. People were happy and then gone. And in just a short time, she was the only one standing in the street. She once had faith that someone would just see, that they would just see the pain that was hidden. Maybe someone, someone who loves her, would just take her hand and snatch her away to something better. That person never came.
But it's okay. Everything will be okay come Christmas morning.
She probably guessed that when people find her, they'll probably wonder what made her leave. Her mind tempted itself to leave an explanation, but after a while, she didn't give a damn anymore. Her neighbors can flip themselves inside out wondering why, and the authorities in town can have fun cleaning up. She smiled and stifled out a slight giggle, with drowned over with a few strands of tears. Maybe she'll be another space waster in the local graveyard.
On the table in front of her, a loaded silver ARM she had tricked the suspicious ARMsmith into selling her lay motionless.
Eleven fifty-nine, or Twelve on the dot?
She smiled in a morbid sense, maybe to feel something before she became ultimately numb. Night had set in, and maybe she was the only one awake this Christmas Eve. She'll have a chance to sleep.
Maybe even dream.
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A/N: This is a fic I wrote out of a strange sadness that came with an idea. I wanted to make a Christmas fic for WA3, but I didn't want to make a happy one. So this is the abomination I came up with.
I'm going to leave the identity of who this fic centers around alone. More information on this fic is posted on my profile. Thanks for reading!