(Also posted over on Ao3 under the same name)
you have no idea when that new farm girl showed up. she just seemed to appear out of nowhere.
she's quiet, with pale skin and black hair. she always wears dark clothes, even in the dead of summer.
her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. oh yoba, her eyes. you feel like she can stare straight through you.
you shudder; no use dwelling on someone you don't care about. but your thoughts continually drift back to the new farmer as you slide cans onto store shelves.
she seems so comfortable here. and yet so alien. she suddenly seems like she is friends with everyone, and yet the only time you see her is at town events. the only time she has ever spoken to you was to give you a gift for your birthday.
she had never talked to you before, or your aunt for that matter, but she knew that pepper poppers were your favorite.
you tended to avoid her after that.
'SHANE!' a piercing, sickly-sweet voice broke through your train of thought. 'Joja doesn't pay its employees to daydream~!'
ugh. Morris. you mutter to yourself and inspect the label on the can in your hand. Glucose-Covered Carrot Sticks, now with Extra Glucose!
you shudder, then place the can onto the shelf. another mind numbing day.
you notice her next at the egg festival. she is in a large black sunhat, and a black dress that covered most of her skin. her sharp black gaze flicks up to meet your eyes. her smile of greeting seems lackluster. with a blink of her black eyelashes she was gone, across the square to talk to Lewis. he greeted her enthusiastically.
you shake your head, trying to clear the daze that clouded your brain momentarily.
'Uncle Shane?' Jas piped up from beside your hip, 'Why does anna-molly look at you so weird?'
you look down at your god-daughter, wondering why she knew the farmer's name, 'She looks at me weird, Jas?' you are genuinely confused.
her purple hair bobbed up and down. 'Yeah! She looks at you real weird all the time!'
you make a face at her statement. you just want to be left alone, damn it. 'I think you're imagining things, Jas.' you tell her, shaking your head.
Jas crosses her tiny arms and pouts at you. 'Am not!' she protests, sticking her tongue out. you poke it with your thumb, then smear her saliva on her forehead. you whisper, 'Simbaaa...' as she squeals and tries to wipe it off. subject averted successfully.
she approaches you one night in the saloon. it is pitch black out, the clock reads 10:30, and there is a thunderstorm raging. you are in the middle of contemplating whether or not to leave or have another beer when a mug of the blessed liquid is presented under your nose.
you blink through your drunken haze and grasp the new glass in your hands- since when did those become so hard to operate?
you look up to either thank or scorn the person giving said beverage to you, but your response dies in your throat with an inhuman gurgle.
'hello shane.' she says, her black eyes peering up at you through long onyx eyelashes. you swear you can't tell the difference between the color of her eye and her pupil.
you stammer out a response, alcohol causing your tongue to become clumsy. 'I-ah-uh-h-hello, uh...?' you halt in your stuttering to realize that you can't remember her name.
she giggles, raising a delicate hand to hide her smile. something in her eyes flashes. 'my name is anna-molly.' she murmurs, then drops her hand to her own pint of ale- where did that come from?
'Hello then, Anna-Molly,' you start, 'Thanks for the pint.' you figure it's best to just thank her. you...don't really want to get on her bad side. you just want to finish your beer and get home and not get soaked in the process.
'so, shane, do you enjoy spice?' anna-molly asks, taking a small sip of her drink. her gaze is inspecting a painting on the wall.
'I mean, I guess- wait, why are you talking to me?' you blunder over your sentences. fucking great shane, there you go again.
she is silent for a while. half of her glass is gone before she answers, 'because i want to know more about you. i am curious. why do you sit in the corner, alone? why do you never smile? what keeps you up at night, shane dawson?'
you are halfway through your last gulp of beer and half of it exits through your nostrils. the fucking nerve of her-! poking into your life like that? examining your traumas like you were a test subject?
you slam your glass down and stand up. the pent up rage in your gut silences your voice. you stomp towards the door of the saloon, pulling your hood up over your head. you feel a small hand grasping your hand and you whirl around
she is looking up at you, your eyes meet again- wait, weren't her eyes just black-?
you don't remember getting home, but you are standing in your room, feeling slightly queasy and very drunk. and most importantly, dry.
you stumble as waves of vertigo hit you, and you flop down on your bed. there is something in your hand. looking reveals it to be a small, flat black pebble, about the size of a quarter.
you swallow thickly, the burn of beer still in your nose.
you look at the clock.
it reads 10:30.