A kind of companion piece to 'A Cinderella Story' but not really. Please
read that though, I got no reviews, even though it was way better than some
other stuff I've written. *sulks*
Anyways, this is from Susan's father's POV as he watched Sophie Ivanova deteriorate.
And Still
*******
Had a bad day again
She said I would not understand
She left a note and said I'm sorry I
Had a bad day again
She spilled her coffee, broke her shoelace
Smeared the lipstick on her face
Slammed the door and said I'm sorry I
Had a bad day again
She never really understood anguish until he kissed her. She never really understood desperation until she kissed him back.
And she swears there's nothing wrong
I hear her playing that same old song
She puts me off and pulls me on
Had a bad day again. . .
Nothing was the same after. He tried to talk to her, but she never listened. He tried to listen to her, but all he heard was her heart beating, and her breath dwindling in her chest as she fell asleep. He felt ten years old again, knowing people where talking, but unable to hear a word they said.
He tried to read her body language, but he couldn't hear a thing.
He knew she went out late at night, when she thought he was sleeping, but he never confronted her on it, allowing her a small measure of freedom in the hope that it would help somehow, where he couldn't.
It didn't.
She drifted further away, until he didn't know her anymore. When he found her curled up and sobbing on the bathroom floor at 3:54 in the morning, cuts up and down her arm, the blood just staining the cuff of her pyjamas, he couldn't even find it in himself to be surprised.
This is the story of a girl
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world
And while she looks so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
He's wondered so often what it is he still loves about her. She's like a shadow, barely substantial, darkening all she falls across. He tries to draw her out, with gentle touches and slow smiles and easy, one-sided conversations.
Once, she danced. Laughed and talked and loved the world. She would grin at him when he was angry, and it would melt away, peeling like skin off his back. She would kiss him, with desperation, and he would kiss back, thinking he would die if he could never kiss her, touch her, see her again.
He still loves her. He still sees her, but he's still dying, piece by piece, just like she still is. They thought if they clung on to each other, it would stop the pain, and despair, like foolish children, falling out a plane, gaining a moments joy from holding each other, before they realise the ground's still coming up much too fast.
He's in love with the feeling of falling he gets when he's with her.
Carve your name into my arm
Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed
Cause there's nothing else to do
Every me and every you
There's no point to any of it.
He locks himself away, ignoring the tattered remains of his family, which flap uselessly around him. He can feel the ragged edges curling around him, choking and pulling him down tightly binding him to the worn out apathy of his love.
He feels drained, so much so, that when he comes home to her grave he feels nothing.
All alone in space and time
There's nothing here, but what here's mine
Something borrowed, something blue
Every me and every you
Anyways, this is from Susan's father's POV as he watched Sophie Ivanova deteriorate.
And Still
*******
Had a bad day again
She said I would not understand
She left a note and said I'm sorry I
Had a bad day again
She spilled her coffee, broke her shoelace
Smeared the lipstick on her face
Slammed the door and said I'm sorry I
Had a bad day again
She never really understood anguish until he kissed her. She never really understood desperation until she kissed him back.
And she swears there's nothing wrong
I hear her playing that same old song
She puts me off and pulls me on
Had a bad day again. . .
Nothing was the same after. He tried to talk to her, but she never listened. He tried to listen to her, but all he heard was her heart beating, and her breath dwindling in her chest as she fell asleep. He felt ten years old again, knowing people where talking, but unable to hear a word they said.
He tried to read her body language, but he couldn't hear a thing.
He knew she went out late at night, when she thought he was sleeping, but he never confronted her on it, allowing her a small measure of freedom in the hope that it would help somehow, where he couldn't.
It didn't.
She drifted further away, until he didn't know her anymore. When he found her curled up and sobbing on the bathroom floor at 3:54 in the morning, cuts up and down her arm, the blood just staining the cuff of her pyjamas, he couldn't even find it in himself to be surprised.
This is the story of a girl
Who cried a river and drowned the whole world
And while she looks so sad in photographs
I absolutely love her
He's wondered so often what it is he still loves about her. She's like a shadow, barely substantial, darkening all she falls across. He tries to draw her out, with gentle touches and slow smiles and easy, one-sided conversations.
Once, she danced. Laughed and talked and loved the world. She would grin at him when he was angry, and it would melt away, peeling like skin off his back. She would kiss him, with desperation, and he would kiss back, thinking he would die if he could never kiss her, touch her, see her again.
He still loves her. He still sees her, but he's still dying, piece by piece, just like she still is. They thought if they clung on to each other, it would stop the pain, and despair, like foolish children, falling out a plane, gaining a moments joy from holding each other, before they realise the ground's still coming up much too fast.
He's in love with the feeling of falling he gets when he's with her.
Carve your name into my arm
Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed
Cause there's nothing else to do
Every me and every you
There's no point to any of it.
He locks himself away, ignoring the tattered remains of his family, which flap uselessly around him. He can feel the ragged edges curling around him, choking and pulling him down tightly binding him to the worn out apathy of his love.
He feels drained, so much so, that when he comes home to her grave he feels nothing.
All alone in space and time
There's nothing here, but what here's mine
Something borrowed, something blue
Every me and every you
