Disclaimer: Both Jamaila and Gehenna are mine.
x – x – x – x – x – x –
She had just woken up, and had just evaded the ravaging jaws of the 'dream' just in time.
Unfortunately, her empty apartment was no help, either.
So, with her white nightgown on, she made her way to the balcony, and her arms were lightly scraped by the breeze. Despite the fact that the moon provided a beautiful glow to the rest of its surroundings, and the stars playfully winked at all the onlookers, she still felt her solitude hit her like a metaphorical slap in the face: what would happen to her comrades, the BPD …
What would happen to her?
Even now, she had no idea of what she was going to do with herself; exiled from the organization she felt most attached to (despite the controversy surrounding it), the living 'embodiment' of a spirit who was attempting to claim 'what was rightfully hers' –
She won't have it.
Clenching her fingers around her bare arms, she felt the breeze pick up in power. The darkness still pierced her like a spear to the heart; her future was going to be like that, she was sure of it. Dark and dreary, with no sense of direction, her only solace a light that she would never reach –
But, there was something oddly soothing about the night as well.
It was her time to think, her time to reflect on 'what-could-have-been' and 'why-it-wasn't-meant-to-be', and wonder what would have happened if – at least for a while – it had happened.
The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on her solitary form, tinting it a bluish colour. Even when she was surrounded by her friends or colleagues, she would always – in a sense – be alone.
One woman contemplated her future atop a balcony at night, and wished upon a star a wish that would never, truthfully, be fulfilled.