A/N: Hi there! Eliel, née *Shelley*, here. This is a small snippet from a new story that I am writing. Minerva fic. Should I continue? Review and tell me. Thanks!
Oh, and if anyone would like to B.E.T.A. for me, just ask. I need one.
INTERLUDE
~*~
As I sat precariously on the edge of the marble countertop, I witnessed the whole scene right before my eyes. At first, I sat stunned, with a calm, serene look on my face. My body was numbed from the effect.
I fell off of the countertop, but I didn't feel the pain. It was all unreal--the aged, slightly dried flowers, sitting in an old plastic vase, the television blaring loud cartoons, the steady drip of water coming from the tap in the kitchen--I couldn't see or hear any of them. The only sound I heard was the ringing boom, sounding over and over in my head. The only thing I saw was the picture of my beautiful, perfect mother, lying on the soiled Persian Rug, covered in blood. The only pain I felt was the ripping and tearing of my heart, now in shreds, then leaving an empty feeling of loneliness. I didn't think of where I was going to live, or who was going to take care of me. I just knew that Momma was gone.
My dear mother.
That's when I started crying. I shed rivers of tears for her--for the memories we had together, for how much I loved her. I cried for every time she'd say, "I love you." I cried for all of the times she ran through the house at 7:00 every morning, singing the "Good Morning" song, as I called it. I cried for all of the times we hugged. I cried for all of the times we laughed.
I don't know how long I was there. They found me, asleep, lying over her bloody body.
THe following months were just about the same. I was like a zombie. I didn't eat, didn't sleep, and when I was physically forced, it wasn't much.
They tried everything ot cheer me up. Dolls, games, toys--but it just wasn't the same. She wasn't there to share them with me, so why should I try?
Finally, my grandmother forced me to go to school. I hated her for it then, but now I love her for it. It gavbe me the opportunit to let out my feelings, to be everything she would have wanted me to be.
Magic was an outlet for my sadness. I threw everything I had left into it, and graduated Head Girl, at the top of my class. Then I started teaching. It provided stability for me, but I still break out the Psychology books. I can't help it. I have to know. I have to know what posessed my beautiful mother, who had everything going for her, to end her life at the young age of 25, leaving me alone in the harsh, cruel world.
I never married, never had any children.
I haven't found out why, but I'll never stop looking.
~*~
Eliel
Oh, and if anyone would like to B.E.T.A. for me, just ask. I need one.
INTERLUDE
~*~
As I sat precariously on the edge of the marble countertop, I witnessed the whole scene right before my eyes. At first, I sat stunned, with a calm, serene look on my face. My body was numbed from the effect.
I fell off of the countertop, but I didn't feel the pain. It was all unreal--the aged, slightly dried flowers, sitting in an old plastic vase, the television blaring loud cartoons, the steady drip of water coming from the tap in the kitchen--I couldn't see or hear any of them. The only sound I heard was the ringing boom, sounding over and over in my head. The only thing I saw was the picture of my beautiful, perfect mother, lying on the soiled Persian Rug, covered in blood. The only pain I felt was the ripping and tearing of my heart, now in shreds, then leaving an empty feeling of loneliness. I didn't think of where I was going to live, or who was going to take care of me. I just knew that Momma was gone.
My dear mother.
That's when I started crying. I shed rivers of tears for her--for the memories we had together, for how much I loved her. I cried for every time she'd say, "I love you." I cried for all of the times she ran through the house at 7:00 every morning, singing the "Good Morning" song, as I called it. I cried for all of the times we hugged. I cried for all of the times we laughed.
I don't know how long I was there. They found me, asleep, lying over her bloody body.
THe following months were just about the same. I was like a zombie. I didn't eat, didn't sleep, and when I was physically forced, it wasn't much.
They tried everything ot cheer me up. Dolls, games, toys--but it just wasn't the same. She wasn't there to share them with me, so why should I try?
Finally, my grandmother forced me to go to school. I hated her for it then, but now I love her for it. It gavbe me the opportunit to let out my feelings, to be everything she would have wanted me to be.
Magic was an outlet for my sadness. I threw everything I had left into it, and graduated Head Girl, at the top of my class. Then I started teaching. It provided stability for me, but I still break out the Psychology books. I can't help it. I have to know. I have to know what posessed my beautiful mother, who had everything going for her, to end her life at the young age of 25, leaving me alone in the harsh, cruel world.
I never married, never had any children.
I haven't found out why, but I'll never stop looking.
~*~
Eliel