Note: The third installment is here ladies and gents. I really hope you
guys like this; it was sooooooo hard to write. I probably went through at
least six beginnings before I found one that I even remotely liked and I
still think that this is lacking a Barbara feel.
Disclaimer: Did you read the first two chaps? I think it's been established that they're not mine.
They're dead. It sounds so frighteningly final. It's hard to think straight with that thought floating around my head. I feel as though it's taunting me. What bothers me most right now is that I can't figure it out. The all- knowing oracle can't figure out why the two people closest to her committed suicide.
The cops left long ago, leaving me to wallow in my loss. I take another swig of whiskey and revel at the burning in my throat as it washes down. I'm not typically one to drink, but this seemed like a worthy enough occasion to go for it.
I saw them dead; after all, somebody had to identify the bodies. This thought brings me to tears as I see them again in my mind, and I almost think about joining them. . .almost. I can't do that yet though, I won't let myself before I figure out what they killed themselves for.
Helena had told me that she figured out her love for Dinah. I was shocked to say the least; Helena in love with Dinah was something that hadn't even crossed my mind. Maybe that's why she killed herself. Dinah didn't requite her love, so Helena jumped and somehow Dinah found Helena and killed herself because of guilt. I take yet another drink before decided that it sounds moronic.
What I have figured out is why people drink. I have to admit that after more than half a bottle of JD I feel significantly better. That is, until I notice the tears still running down my face, then, I just feel broken.
There's only one way to get me out of my funk, first I finish off my bottle and search around for another one. I found another one, tequila this time; it brings back memories of happier days. Wheeling out of the kitchen just seems like too much work right now, so I'll stick around, and form some new theories.
Dinah was depressed, for a long, long while, and that's another thing that I don't know why. Oh well, I think that she was cutting herself, but didn't think that confronting her was the best idea. Maybe Dinah killed herself first, and then Helena found her and thought that it was her fault so she jumped. That sounds about as half assed as my other ideas. For some reason I giggle at the word assed, the booze must be getting to me.
What I wouldn't give for life to be simple. In a simple world there would be no suicide because problems are easily solved, every kind. More tequila, that's what I need, it'll solve my problem for me. So I down another gulp contemplating other ideas. By now I'm so drunk that all my theories seem like children's cartoons.
All these thoughts are nice. . .oh wait, no there not. They're horribly depressing and I feel like a masochist for continuing to think about it. Oh well, pleasure from pain; it'll be my new motto. I'm giggling again at my drunken thoughts. It makes me think of the bar where Helena works worked, it requires conscious thought to correct myself and I wonder if that's a bad thing.
I miss them so much. I'd even like to have the depressed version of Dinah around right now and she was no fun at all. I wish that I could have them back though, the sunshine Dinah, and the cocky-as-hell Helena. I want Huntress, I want Canary, I want my family! I want them back. It's not fair for them to go away and leave me here it's not.
That's when I think about it again. And why shouldn't I? There's not much left for me here, just a teaching job, and that's not going to keep me from being lonely. Plenty of knives in the kitchen, or I could get some pills from the bathroom, I could even sit here and drink myself to death. I won't though, and the sad part is that I'm not even sure about why that is. I let out a self-depreciating laugh at my cowardice. That's right, I'm too cowardly to do it, years of being a super hero and facing some of the worst scum on the planet, and I'm afraid to commit suicide.
My thoughts stray back to the matter at hand. I still don't know why they did it. Did what? Another part asks. They're still safely tucked away sleeping soundly through the night; they're. Just. Fine. And I'm starting to believe it to, when I wake up in the morning with the worst hangover of my life, Dinah and Helena will be there to hand me some Advil and water respectively. We'll be a family again, a nice, happy, living family. I'm so much happier here.
The police came back the next morning, wanted some more info on my family. He keeps saying that they're dead, and ignoring me when I say otherwise. This isn't a very funny joke and I tell him as much. He looks at me strangely, like there's something wrong with me instead of him. Next thing I know is that they're trying to take me away. They stuck a needle in me and suddenly I'm very, very sleepy.
I never saw them again after that; they must've given up and left or something cause I'm still here in the clock tower with my family. Every now and again though, I catch sight of something that looks like padding and hear voices from nowhere telling me to snap out of it. I pass it off, after all I'm with my family now, and we'll always be happy.
Note: That ending was actually kinda creepy, and I really don't know if I like this whole POV part I wrote for Barbara. So here's the deal, if you didn't like it so much either, let me know and I'll try to do a re write. The one thing I won't do though is make it happy. Also, Kelley Gaither, suggested that I do one from Reese's POV. If I get two reviews tellin me to go for it, then I'll attempt to do one for Reese, if not, I won't bother. . .maybe.
Disclaimer: Did you read the first two chaps? I think it's been established that they're not mine.
They're dead. It sounds so frighteningly final. It's hard to think straight with that thought floating around my head. I feel as though it's taunting me. What bothers me most right now is that I can't figure it out. The all- knowing oracle can't figure out why the two people closest to her committed suicide.
The cops left long ago, leaving me to wallow in my loss. I take another swig of whiskey and revel at the burning in my throat as it washes down. I'm not typically one to drink, but this seemed like a worthy enough occasion to go for it.
I saw them dead; after all, somebody had to identify the bodies. This thought brings me to tears as I see them again in my mind, and I almost think about joining them. . .almost. I can't do that yet though, I won't let myself before I figure out what they killed themselves for.
Helena had told me that she figured out her love for Dinah. I was shocked to say the least; Helena in love with Dinah was something that hadn't even crossed my mind. Maybe that's why she killed herself. Dinah didn't requite her love, so Helena jumped and somehow Dinah found Helena and killed herself because of guilt. I take yet another drink before decided that it sounds moronic.
What I have figured out is why people drink. I have to admit that after more than half a bottle of JD I feel significantly better. That is, until I notice the tears still running down my face, then, I just feel broken.
There's only one way to get me out of my funk, first I finish off my bottle and search around for another one. I found another one, tequila this time; it brings back memories of happier days. Wheeling out of the kitchen just seems like too much work right now, so I'll stick around, and form some new theories.
Dinah was depressed, for a long, long while, and that's another thing that I don't know why. Oh well, I think that she was cutting herself, but didn't think that confronting her was the best idea. Maybe Dinah killed herself first, and then Helena found her and thought that it was her fault so she jumped. That sounds about as half assed as my other ideas. For some reason I giggle at the word assed, the booze must be getting to me.
What I wouldn't give for life to be simple. In a simple world there would be no suicide because problems are easily solved, every kind. More tequila, that's what I need, it'll solve my problem for me. So I down another gulp contemplating other ideas. By now I'm so drunk that all my theories seem like children's cartoons.
All these thoughts are nice. . .oh wait, no there not. They're horribly depressing and I feel like a masochist for continuing to think about it. Oh well, pleasure from pain; it'll be my new motto. I'm giggling again at my drunken thoughts. It makes me think of the bar where Helena works worked, it requires conscious thought to correct myself and I wonder if that's a bad thing.
I miss them so much. I'd even like to have the depressed version of Dinah around right now and she was no fun at all. I wish that I could have them back though, the sunshine Dinah, and the cocky-as-hell Helena. I want Huntress, I want Canary, I want my family! I want them back. It's not fair for them to go away and leave me here it's not.
That's when I think about it again. And why shouldn't I? There's not much left for me here, just a teaching job, and that's not going to keep me from being lonely. Plenty of knives in the kitchen, or I could get some pills from the bathroom, I could even sit here and drink myself to death. I won't though, and the sad part is that I'm not even sure about why that is. I let out a self-depreciating laugh at my cowardice. That's right, I'm too cowardly to do it, years of being a super hero and facing some of the worst scum on the planet, and I'm afraid to commit suicide.
My thoughts stray back to the matter at hand. I still don't know why they did it. Did what? Another part asks. They're still safely tucked away sleeping soundly through the night; they're. Just. Fine. And I'm starting to believe it to, when I wake up in the morning with the worst hangover of my life, Dinah and Helena will be there to hand me some Advil and water respectively. We'll be a family again, a nice, happy, living family. I'm so much happier here.
The police came back the next morning, wanted some more info on my family. He keeps saying that they're dead, and ignoring me when I say otherwise. This isn't a very funny joke and I tell him as much. He looks at me strangely, like there's something wrong with me instead of him. Next thing I know is that they're trying to take me away. They stuck a needle in me and suddenly I'm very, very sleepy.
I never saw them again after that; they must've given up and left or something cause I'm still here in the clock tower with my family. Every now and again though, I catch sight of something that looks like padding and hear voices from nowhere telling me to snap out of it. I pass it off, after all I'm with my family now, and we'll always be happy.
Note: That ending was actually kinda creepy, and I really don't know if I like this whole POV part I wrote for Barbara. So here's the deal, if you didn't like it so much either, let me know and I'll try to do a re write. The one thing I won't do though is make it happy. Also, Kelley Gaither, suggested that I do one from Reese's POV. If I get two reviews tellin me to go for it, then I'll attempt to do one for Reese, if not, I won't bother. . .maybe.
