Wishing
Xander had left her about a thousand messages. She hadn't returned any of them. She was too angry, and she was too hurt. The pain was unbearable: the sting of betrayal; the aching loss; she felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and shredded and there was just emptiness, a cold, dark hollow where the steady thump of her heart beat should be.
But mixed up with the pain was the anger, burning hot and churning inside of her. That he had cheated on her, that he valued her so little. That he dared think he could treat her that way. She had given up everything to be with him - everything. And that was how he repaid her sacrifice?
She didn't get homecoming queen because she was dating Xander, she would never be prom queen now. Her whole checklist of successes to guide her through her school career, she'd chucked them all out the window for Xander - chosen happiness over popularity. And in return he had chosen Willow over her - and that made her furious.
But then, mixed up with the anger - was the fear; niggling and dark and eating away at her. The fear of what was now waiting for her at school, where she had no friends. The fear she had never meant anything to Xander, that he didn't return her feelings and that she had thrown away her popularity for something that wasn't real. And the fear that he hadn't returned her feelings because there was something wrong with her, that he would prefer to be with Willow because of something she, Cordelia, was lacking. She was afraid there was a reason she couldn't be loved. And worst of all, she was afraid she deserved this - she was afraid that this heartbreak, this loss, the loneliness was what she had coming to her; that this was due punishment and now was her time to pay.
Her eyes were red rimmed, though she was no longer crying. She had cried too much since the accident. She was done crying. Now she was ready for something else, though she wasn't sure what - but she was spurred on to action by her anger and her pain and her fear.
She sat cross legged on her bed, and hit the play button - Xander's dopey, apologetic voice floated out into her room, asking her to call. There was a beep - and then another message. Same thing. Then a beep - and another message. On and on. Over and over.
Cordelia took a pair of scissors and the picture they had taken down at the pier, and began to cut away at the figures: Willow, then Oz, then her, then Xander, separating the four of them, slicing them apart. As she cut, she wished she could change what had happened. She wished she had never met Xander. She wished she had never been so stupid as to give everything up for him. She wished she hadn't caught him kissing Willow. She wished he could feel for her the way she felt for him. She wished that she would stop feeling this way.
When she had cut him away from the rest, she took her scissors and snipped Xander's dopey head off before dropping all the images into a bowl. She lit a match and set them on fire. As the flames took hold of the paper, licking their way towards Xander's dopey smiling face, she sat on the bed - completely dried eyed - and watched him burn away to nothing, wishing the whole world could be changed and everything could be made different.
