Jessie, you rock

Jessie, you rock. Where would I be without my 'beat' reader? ;)

I changed the rating. PG-13 for mild language.

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Rain

Chapter 6 – Broken

She had never been so cold. So cold. Empty. Her heart had been wrenched out of her chest, leaving a gaping hole that was quickly filling with sorrow.

Rory stood in front of the black pit. She was aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks, but didn't have the strength to wipe them away. She pulled her trembling hand out of the safety of his, carefully pulling the petal off of the daisy and letting it get caught in the cool breeze. It spun through the air, up and down, twirling in the unpredictable wind before plummeting to the bottom of the pit. Like Rory.

She peered over the edge slowly, feeling connected to that little daisy petal. Only she wasn't lying on top of her mother's casket, as much as she wanted to. She pulled off another petal. Then another, until they were all resting silently on top of the polished oak.

God, if it weren't for him, she would be down there next to her mother. Even if that's what she wanted right now, she knew it wasn't right. Just because she had-

No. She wouldn't let herself think about it. But no matter how hard she tried, the memories came flooding back to her like a tidal wave, knocking her off of her feet, sending her spiraling towards the edge.

If only she hadn't run. If only she had been there. If only she had said I love you before she left for school that morning.

Blood. There was so much blood. Marring her beautiful features, stealing the beautiful twinkle from her eye. Caking onto her work clothes. I should have had them dry cleaned. But she's gone.

Rory had gone into her closet last night. Grasping at the fabric, trying to pull her back into her life. She had collapsed into the darkness, unable to breathe. Not wanting to. God, it was unfair.

She stared down at the yellow center she still grasped in her sweating hands. Savagely ripping it into pieces. Like she wanted to do to that man.

Fire filled her blood when she recalled his face. That bastard. He hadn't known what a precious life he was taking when he had been too damned lazy to wait the alcohol off. She wanted to do to him just what he had done to Lorelai. And everyone he took her from. Bile splashed against the inside of her malnourished stomach. Why eat. Doesn't matter.

No one approached the girl standing silently on top of the small hill. There was no "how are you doing", "can I do anything". They all knew the answer, and knew it would do no good to ask. She didn't want help. She didn't want to feel better. She wanted her mother.

He stood back, waiting for his Rory. Walking across the matted grass towards a simple statue of an angel. He knelt down, falling into a silent prayer. His fingers ran over the smooth marble, feeling the indention of the words, reading them like Braille. Janlan Thomas DuGrey. In loving memory. Simple, honest, beautiful. Against the wishes of the family. But Tristan understood its understated importance. He lightly kissed the cool surface, eyes brimming with tears, and pulled out the delicate pink rose from his jacket. Setting it on top of the flush surface, he whispered his goodbye and returned to his Rory.

Their shadows began to appear, standing there with nothing to say. Then slowly, lightly, as a kiss from God, it began to snow.