Remember - I still have no rights to this stuff. Drat.
And thanks again to Sparkling Mist - the greatest beta on Earth!
WHEN I SAY MY NAME...
... to the group of teens before me, the entire room freezes. No one says a word, or even allows a breath to flow. I suppose that I figured people would taunt and tease me, once the news that the famous hero who could do anything wasn't able to take her own life in honor of the best friend she would never see again. I mean, how lame is it that I can't even stand up to my own catch phrase? I myself remain ashamed of that failure, of the hurt I continue to cause my family and friends, and the stupidity of my ignorance towards... his feelings. How ignorant did I have to have been? I was with him all of the time, from the horrors of high school to the near-death experiences of our missions. I thought we shared everything. Yet I missed that. I just wish I could have deflated my ego long enough to look away from the football team and Josh Mankey to see... him.
HOW MUCH MORE OBVIOUS...
... could he have been to me?
Back to the present, girl. If you ever want out of here to at least make your family happy again, you have got to focus on this group therapy thing. And deal with their... nothing. No mocking words from hypocritical lips restating my failure, and not one individual cowered away, as if they believe the suicide bug was catching. I know that I deserve whatever they throw at me, but nothing meets my ears. Instead, a silence that could overpower any noise continues to surround me, which, I decide, is far more frightening than voices yelling.
TONY, THE NICE GUY...
... who immediately introduced himself when I slid into the counseling room, grips my hand tighter, the friendly handshake swiftly switching to forceful panic. His eyes, which before had been scrunched in humor, widen in shock, and he even backs away from my form slowly, though he does not let go. As he drags my feet forward into the center of the circle, I focus all of my attention on his panicking face, afraid of what everyone else's reaction must be to this headline that I did not realize would drop like an atomic bomb. What was so awful about my name here? I highly doubt that any of my old enemies have been sent to this place—only Gil would have been able to qualify and he was currently in a secret lab. Everyone else was too old, or not considered crazy enough. So maybe I had a freaky fan? I did not understand why saying just who I was would cause such an upheaval.
THEN, SLOWLY, TONY TURNS...
... his head, his body, and his attention to something or someone behind him. Once I break his gaze, I notice everyone else is staring backward. First, my eyes shoot down, being the coward that I am. But then, I scowl, realizing it can't be any worse then what I have had to see in the past. Though I fear what is behind him, I know that avoidance is not the correct path for me. It has only brought me pain in the past. I refuse to repeat the past, and so, for him, I brace myself. I direct my gaze accordingly.
At first, my confusion remains, as I only discover two teens I have never set eyes on before. Once I let out my breath in relief and let my shoulders ease down, I examine them to see how they factor into the upheaval around me. One is a pretty girl, with dark hair and dark eyes. She is the only one who stays facing me, as if she believes her forceful glare will cause my sudden departure. The brown orbs she is intensely directing towards my shocking green ones are overflowing with hatred, as if I have done her wrong. Though I am certain I have never met her before today, she condemns me where I stand, gives me a horrendous sentence, and executes me with chilling precision on the spot. I have not seen a gaze as menacing since Shego herself, but this girl does not seem evil, or even menacing. Instead, she appears protective, as if she wants to save another from my presence.
NEXT TO THE BRUNETTE...
... is a boy who could only be described as perfect. Even in this situation, I can take the time to admire his physical beauty. Hair, eyes, body, stature... this kid has it all. His expensive clothing, which seems out of place in their wrinkled condition, screams wealth to the group. While he does not flaunt it completely, you can tell his upbringing is such, and the shirt and pants are not just a generous donation by a guilty relative. He is continuously looking back and forth between me and the apparently interesting object behind him, as if it is unbelievable that I have entered this room right now. His perfect confusion is haunting, but not as frightening as what I finally see sitting frozen behind him. What I thought I would never see again.
HE IS A YOUNG TEEN...
... with blond hair in disarray and a sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks and nose. His normally bright eyes are dimmed in shock and fear, though from what I do not know, and his gangly, thin frame seems to be fighting against running, whether it is away or to me. His eyes are drilling into mine with a mixture of pleasure and absolute dismay. His hands, clasped in front of him in an obvious attempt to cease the shaking, are in contrast to his stiff shoulders. And now I get it. I know. I know why everyone reacted in such a way, in a manner of unbelieving motionlessness. It is because... he is here. Ron is here—breathing, moving, sitting, shaking, feeling, thinking, looking... He is alive. And he is most definitely not smiling.
I turn and run.
END KIM'S POINT OF VIEW
Oh the angst is sooooo good. Please review and tell me what you thought, amazing or awful. I love to read them!
Until the words bring us together again,
GypsyGrl77