To Croydon
When Stella was fourteen years old... her daddy died. And so did she, so very slowly.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
Stella would watch the blood bubble and trickle onto the bathroom tile through wet, hazy eyes.
Drip... Drip... Drip...
Little Stella Gibson was lost, lost in this harsh world that took her beloved father away from her without permission.
Why! Why! Why!
Stella would scream and cry herself to sleep, so painfully alone.
When Stella was nineteen years old... her unborn baby died. And so did she, so very quickly.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
Stella would look at the ultrasound picture in the darkness of her bedroom through wet, hazy eyes.
Drip... Drip... Drip...
Little Stella Gibson was lost, lost in this harsh world that took her fragile sliver of hope away from her without permission.
Why! Why! Why!
Stella would pop a bunch of pills to fall asleep, still so painfully alone.
When Stella was thirty six years old... she fell in love. And so did *she*, so very surprisingly.
Cut. Cut. Cut.
Stella would stare at the beautiful woman when she wasn't looking through wet, hazy eyes.
Drip... Drip. Drip...
Little Stella Gibson was lost, lost in this harsh world that offered her someone so amazing without permission.
Why. Why. Why?
Stella would dream about the beautiful woman when she was fast asleep in her comfortable bed, thankful she wasn't so alone anymore.
From Star