A/N: I just need to say, Petra Ral was a great character with a premature death. I hope you enjoy! This was originally an essay that I wrote some good months ago. My writing has enhanced since then, but I thought it best to leave this as it was written. Sentimental reasons. It has, however, been modified (not fixed) to fit AOT (E.i changed the names and genders) I don't know much of Petra's parents, so I got a little creative.
Disclaimer: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin (aka Attack on Titan)
Dedicated: To all the people who have lost someone, and couldn't live with the reality.
XxX
It was a dark Sunday evening. The humidity in the air already causing the brunette man to feel uncomfortable in his thick sweater.
He sat in his chair, staring blankly at the object in his hand. It had arrived several days ago, but he had yet to open it. Peter held the letter tightly. He was sure that whatever was in it would change his life forever. The problem is: he likes his life the way it is.
Tossing the letter aside, he groaned and rested his head in his hands. This was too much. The suspense to know what exactly lay written in that letter was killing him -but he knew that confirmation of his thoughts would kill him slower.
Confirmation that she was dead.
He let out a quiet sob. His daughter was supposed to return to him three weeks ago. But instead of her face, he received a brown envelope from the mailman. He knew what it contained the moment he saw the Survey Corps postage stamps on the left corner. But he didn't open it.
Staring at the letter out of the corner of his eye, he studied it. He studied its crinkled side from his tight grip just a moment ago.
It was funny really; that stupid pack made of paper could be the very thing to undo him. The information it held could crumple him like he did its sides.
What did he ever do to deserve this? Growing up, he was a good boy. He did all his work, went to church, and fell asleep in bed on time. He never bullied or envied anyone, and his parents loved him. Why then, did fate choose to be wicked?
Peter cried louder now as he turned toward the envelope.
"Lord...give me strength," he whispered as he blinked back tears.
Picking up the envelope from where it lay haphazardly on the floor, he added extra care in his movements; almost as if he were afraid to destroy it.
He has the envelope in his hands now.
Peter turns it over so that the back is now facing him. Using his fingernail, he slowly rips the seal, pausing for a long moment once he'd finished.
He takes a deep breath, and braces himself.
"You can do this Peter," he tells himself, "you're 42 years old now; a grown man." He tilts the envelope on its side to pour the contents out.
"Your wife is in the other room if you need her," he reminds himself as the paper slips onto his lap.
"It's the winter, your daughter will be back for Christm-"
He doesn't finish his sentence as he registers the first few words on the page:
'Mr. and Mrs. Ral, our condolences'
And then he bursts into sadden hysterics.
Peter ignores the fact that it's too hot to be winter. He ignores that his wife is, too, now dead. He ignores that he is now 58. And he ignores the fact that he keeps replaying the day he read that his daughter had been killed by an Abnormal Titan.
But mostly, he ignores that he's demented because of it.
The End…
A/N: I hope it wasn't too confusing. I quite enjoyed writing the original, and then putting it to one of my favourite franchises seemed thrilling!
"Death doesn't hurt the deceased." ~Me
God Bless! Leave a review ey!
~Poodie