Disclaimer: you know the deal.
Author's note" sorry, this is a Sirius/Diana chapter. I can't seem to write enough of it, and I have writer's block on the L/J end, but I will pick it up soon. Same on the N/R stuff. Sit tight, sorry for the long waits. TTWNS will be updated soon, and don't hate me for it. I didn't forget, again, writer's block. I have lots of stress, and am feeling morbid, so it gets reflected in the writing. Sorry. But read if you wish, I'll try. Next chap will be very violent, sexual, and terribly sad. Deal, I have to. I apologize for the attitude. Have a wonderful day, month, whatever.
~*~*~*~
"No good deed goes unpunished. All helpful urges should be circumvented. Sure, I meant well, but look at what well meant did. —"Wicked
The second Diana turned the key to that hidden door her blood ran cold, and her breathing ceased completely. She opened it, rather quickly, as if what was on the other end might as well come, and it did, with a shout of surprise and irritation. Her face was flooded with smoke, and a strange but not unfamiliar aroma filled her nostrils and made her eyes tear. She coughed and wiped what vapours she could out of her field of vision.
"Ugh, for fuck's sake," she said, coughing louder. The smoke went deep into her lungs, and she wheezed out of impatience.
There was people sprawled about, passed out, intoxicated, dead, she didn't know. Bodies littered the floor in uneven patterns and she struggled to step over them. In the very centre there were three people, with too much fabric over their heads to differentiate their sexes. They were passing around a pipe of sorts, not noticing her or anything but their steadfast breathing, essential for the drug to work well.
Though it happened to be the late 1970's, this place was not archaic in its methods. It had been flourishing since before the Depression, but now it was considered stylish to indulge in such things. Sins of the flesh and bodily harm seemed the one thing people could do to forget their troubles. Therapy was hardly an option yet.
She noticed another door, about fifteen away from her spot, and she longed to get there without interrupting, or worse, being noticed. She groaned and cringed inside, for it meant stepping over more people, some fully clothed, others not. Their track marks formed a twisted connect the dots on their bodies, and from her point of view they were perceived as sinful constellations, marks of pain, tattoos of remembrance, for a high that will never be fulfilled as sublimely as the last.
She whimpered when she was finally a few feet from the door. Flies had surrounded a particularly vile looking man, whose age was unidentifiable, except for the fact that he had a full head of brown hair, untainted by grey. It was his only mark of youth. She reached for the doorknob with her lip bitten, and almost bleeding from her desire to leave that dreadful room. The smoke of the Opium had become lodged in her hair and clothes. Grandmère will kill me, she childishly concurred.
She almost tripped over that man when a bony and bruised hand shot up from the floor and blocked the door. Then she made out a shoulder, and then elbows as the thing propped itself up. She tried to step back but to no avail. Then it sat up and leaned against the door, blocking her way.
"Uh, uh, uh," it said, shaking its finger at her. Then she heard it click its tongue. "Not allowed." She detected a Liverpool accent, and realized that she had seen this person before. Was it a man, or a woman? The voice was so familiar. "Pretty, pretty, pretty mustn't go snooping where she mustn't," it said.
Then she realized, to hell with this, she could just kick it aside, but when she became close enough the thing shouted her name.
"Bella, don't!" it said, in an accent entirely different. She shot back with surprise. It started panting heavily.
She crouched down lower to get a better look. Through all the smoke she had not been able to make out anything really. She waved her hand and realized the features were fuller, and it turned out he was quite young. Then with a gasp she realized.
"Karkaroff," she whispered, putting her hand over her mouth.
"Bella," he said again.
"No, I am not Bellatrix," she said, leaning her hand out to him.
"I didn't say you were. What do you want here?" he asked, trying desperately to straiten up.
Confused beyond repair at this so sudden business, she composed her thoughts and remembered her speech. Was this real? It was, wasn't it, she thought? If it were not, then it was a very cruel trick, indeed. She had to admit it would be incredibly clever. She turned upon the young man once more, in anger and conjecture, wondering why she dared come here in the first place.
"Why did you change your voice?" she said, almost out of concern. He shrugged.
"It scares off the snooping rats." He still insisted on leaning against the door. It was too odd, her showing up, he thought.
" Well, are you going to let me in?" she whispered. "I—I can't stay out here."
"Are you expected?"
"Why do you all ask me that?" she said, whispering in a whine.
"He won't want to see you," he warned.
"Well, I don't feel too keen on seeing him either, so in that respect, my timing is perfect." She didn't know whom he meant, but if it was whom she thought then a death curse waited for her on the other side of that room.
"What do you possibly think will be benefited from this?" he said, nearing to the doorknob every second, as if wanting to lock it shut.
"I don't know. Maybe salvation, maybe vengeance, I haven't decided yet," she sighed.
"It's not a good idea," he said.
"I'm passed 'good ideas' at this point, Igor. Stand aside."
~*~
Lucius' face lost all of its blood. A Renton, here in Paris, he thought. How—what—who was she? "Madame," he called, and she turned around, quite taken aback.
Isabel Renton, no matter how aged, noticed him looking at her, and knew there was nothing sexual about it. She was old enough to be his—his—oh, never mind, she thought. She didn't answer him, but only raised an eyebrow, like Diana would have done. Where is that girl, she suddenly reflected?
"Is your name Renton?" he asked, in French, paying for his apple. "Do you, by any chance, have a granddaughter or anything? One who came here recently?"
She nodded. Then a thought struck her, and she became almost giddy. She smiled at Lucius as if she were his mother. Her intellect was not as sharp, and she mistook him for another. Putting her hand over her mouth she inched closer and looked into his eyes.
"Oh, why—oh—" she mumbled. "So, you are my Diana's great love," she said, putting her wrinkled hand on his cheek. He looked at her confused. "Sweet boy. You have come to claim her."
"Um, well, no—""Oh, but you must surprise her. She cannot know you are here. She'd be furious," she said, as if she had just discovered something glorious.
"Oh, she would be," Lucius said, smiling.
"Come, come," she beckoned, and took his hand in hers. "She mustn't know. You come back with me, to my home. She will meet you there."
With a half smile and the sudden urge to trust this old woman, he nodded, and followed, up the hills and through the suburbs, to await the meeting he had been planning since he was eighteen years old.
~*~
From across the crowd she saw him and she smiled widely and impatiently as she waved and ran to him. He laughed, picking her up and embracing her. She was kissed on her mouth and her neck as he picked her up, spinning her.
"Oh, you are so terribly cliché." She said, giggling.
"Did you miss me?" he asked, putting her down, and taking her hand.
"No, but I am happy to see you now." She said.
"I'll accept that." He laughed.
She took his hand and put it lightly on her breast. She put her face closer to his ear. "Now take me home, now," she whispered.
"I'll do you one better." he said, taking her wrist and pulling her into a nearby alleyway. Then he pressed her against the wall, putting her arms above her head.
"What on earth—"
"Shh." He said, biting her lip running his hand up her thigh, which was well hidden by a long skirt.
She brings out the worst in me, Sirius thought. She tempted me, lied to me, and made me fall for her. Why? Did she find it amusing? Did she think it was all a game, a joke?
He got up from his bed with only a shred of energy, only to pace his bedroom, as he frequently did. She thought him a fool, he pondered. I knew her, and I knew her ways, and I ignored them. Her smirks, her bedroom play, her sinister laugh, were all part of a plan. Yes, that was it! she would baby talk him to make him listen to her. She always won. Sex. It was always about sex. Wasn't it?
"You have a sort of sick desperation in your laugh. Did you know?" she said once, when they were young and she was sleeping with her then true love. She conned him then to make him believe she wanted him, and she got him when she wanted. She always did. Her noises, her screams, and all her little requests for more, more, more! They drove him mad. Did he hate her now or did he still adore her? He was going insane, but was it from depravation of her sex or excessive sex in general. It was to hurt her, yes. He wanted to hurt her, to kill her even, if only to make the pain stop. He hoped she could feel him when he was with other women. He hoped she was somewhere dying, or crying, feeling what she had done to him. And she knew, she knew it all, he thought.
He plopped down on his bed once more. He felt like screaming, but laziness was the only thing that kept him from it. why did he want her in pain, he wondered? He had turned into Lucius, which is what he loathed would happen. I hate myself, really, he thought. How could I hate her, who is my wife, my everything? How could I damn her? I love her……..
To save her, a voice in his head said. To save her all over again. That is what you want, isn't it, to be the hero? His mind was playing games with him, taunting him, talking to him, telling him the truth, lies, anything to distract him.
Sirius then heard a piercing, intolerant knock at his door. Screaming internally, he got up and stretched upwards. What is with everybody, he whined privately? It became so offensive that the tapping did not cease for about five minutes. Taking his time, he strolled out of his bedroom, cursing under his breath.
That's when he decided not to answer the door at all. He stopped in the kitchen. He would not be seen in the kitchen, with the living room separating him and the other person on the other end. He saw the shadow dimly through the door, and although a spark of curiosity clicked in his mind, he decided to be spiteful. And if the person really needed to come in, the back door was open.
"Damn it, Sirius, open the Goddamn door!"
Sirius froze. It was a woman's voice. He was not prepared for this. He looked all about him, thinking he might actually hide. It couldn't be—after all this time!
"I know you're home!"
He stood still, holding his breath. For a second, a split second he thought it might have been her. The feminine pitch threw him off. Suddenly the shape wasn't there anymore. It had clearly moved and he could hear the footsteps leaving the walkway. He breathed out, thinking he had imagined it, but just then the back door behind him burst open. It was slammed hard, and Sirius shot himself back.
Andromeda Black Tonks was a sweet faced, tall woman with pin strait black hair. There were elements of her hair that suggested some of it was blonde, or used to be blonde. Where the blonde hair used to be, red showed through, making it look as if some strands were on fire. She had large eyes and a small, pouty looking mouth. Her skin was olive, like Sirius', and her eyes were a piercing sapphire. She was a combination of her two sisters, although she was the oldest. Her breasts were large, like Bellatrix, but she was thinner and more statuesque, like Narcissa. And, like Narcissa, she was more cute than beautiful, but she had a charm and a smile neither of them possessed, which gave her grace. She was confident, yet modest, and was genuinely good. Which, similarly to Sirius, was considered a bad thing.
"Well, cousin, this is terribly rude behaviour." She said, hands on hips, with a prominent scowl.
He sighed loudly, releasing his breath. She looked at him confused. He regained his bearings and stood up strait. "Annie." He said. "I—I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."
"Right." She said. "So you just thought you'd be rude and not answer the door at all. I'm actually a little hurt." She looked around at the baroness of the place, the uncomfortable neatness and misplacement she felt. Something was off. They awkwardly embraced, and at the last second there was sincerity and kinship behind it.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Um, are you hungry?"
"I came to see you," she said, and smiled, putting her hand on his unshaved cheek. "I think the question is, what are you doing here?"
"Where else would I be?" he said. "I live here."
"Something's missing, am I right?" she asked, poking her head into the living room. Then she walked around into his bedroom. It was baron as well. "Where's the Mrs?"
"Um—"Sirius scratched his head.
"Oh, before I forget, congratulations Daddy!" she yelled, coming back in and embracing him. "I would have come sooner, but I haven't had the time. Dora's being a little devil lately."
"Andromeda—" Sirius put up his hand to try and silence her.
"I received the letter about a month ago and I've just got round to coming now. But I'm so happy for you, and I came by to congratulate you and Bella myself—"
"Andromeda—" he said, a bit more forcefully.
"Where is she anyway?" she asked, folding her arms. "Is she out? Why aren't you with her? Is Lily here too, in town I mean? I do so miss all of you. How is my favourite cousin and the lovely Mrs? You know I was in Flourish and Blotts the other day and I picked up the most lovely—"
"Andromeda!" he screamed. She paused, confused and dumfounded at his rudeness.
"What?"
"She's not here," he said.
"Oh," she answered. From the tone in his voice, and his obviously melancholic state, she knew what was wrong. She knew him that well. They had grown up together, being the outcasts, the least favourites. Her bubbly and hurried speech was out of nervousness. It was not her. He noticed, but she was on such a roll. "Well, um. Oh—I'm sorry—I—Oh Sirius," she said, feeling incredibly embarrassed. Then she became emotional. "Oh, I feel so—"
"Don't Annie. Really," he said, trying to calm her down. He shrugged. "It's fine."
"No. It's not fine." She said, growing a bit angry. She wiped her face. "How could she? And with a baby, oh darling. How selfish. You'll see, she'll come back when the work becomes too much. She's just scared, that's all," she said, rubbing his shoulder.
"There is no baby, Annie. And no, she's not coming back," he said.
"No baby? Um, what happened to it?" she asked, wondering how appropriate it was.
"She miscarried," he said.
"But she was passed her fifth month. It said so in her letter," she said, astonished.
"Yes, you mentioned that. She never told me she wrote to you," he said. "It's fine and all, but I just never knew. We were keeping it private."
"She wanted to know what to do with herself. I'm the only one who has had a child so far, you know. She just wanted some advice. She sounded happy enough though. She said that, besides you, it was the happiest accident that ever happened to her."
Sirius smiled. "Do you have it?"
"No." she said. "Why would I?"
"I don't know. She never should have gotten pregnant," he said.
"Well, she was on birth control, right? It is the 70's. You do use it, don't you?"
"We did, yes. But sometimes, you know. She forgot a couple of times, she said."
"The she should double the next day," Andromeda said.
"Well I don't know how it works," he said, getting a bit shirty. "I didn't double check or anything."
"It doesn't matter anyway. It is only 97% effective," she said.
"Well they should put that on the bloody box!" he yelled.
"I think they do, Sirius," she said, smirking. Then she surveyed him closer. "You look like shit."
"I think I'm going mad."
"It happens."
"No, not like this. You can't possibly understand. I feel too many things. I don't know if I love her or hate her anymore," he said.
"You can't hate her for being afraid."
"I can hate her for ruining our marriage thought. It was damned from the start."
"How do you figure?" she asked. "You're ruining it by cheating."
"Huh? How did you know?"
"Gossip spreads fast, even to Sussex," she said, smirking.
"Oh, she was always cheating."
"No—"
"Oh yes. She thinks I don't know. I just overlooked it because I loved her so. She wrote it all down, every encounter, and every fuck. It made her guilty, but she did it anyway. I guess one never gets tired of the Malfoy cock, huh?"
"Oh, ick!" she said, shooting back.
"I'm sorry, Annie. Listen, you should go. There is nothing for you here. I am too tired of burying myself in the past. It must end."
"And how do you propose you'll do that?" she asked.
He shrugged. "You never know. There are many ways to make the pain stop."
~*~
Through the second door she walked, casually, letting it swing behind her, and Karkaroff following. With clear eyes and head, she surveyed her surroundings, and with a cracking sound and a "holy shit!" she turned her attention to the far right corner. She looked at the green table and saw the round, white marble ball pass through a pocket. She smirked, but not before adding, "Scratch."
No, he was not there, she thought, relieved. Then again, why would he be? He didn't trouble with such things anymore. He was too busy conspiring on how to take over Europe first, and that was coming sooner than she would expect.
"You ruined my shot, you cunt," she heard, through a deep, coughing voice.
"That's alright, you suck ass anyway," said another man, leaning against a cue stick for, it seemed, balance.
"Now who the bloody fuck are you?" said the first man. "Dessert?" he said, and laughed.
"I told Maurice no whores until dinner," said the second.
She was calmer now. She listened to them, not prepared for this type of sexist ridicule, but she assumed they were too drunk or high to point their wands strait. This room wasn't nearly as creepy and desolate as the last. She walked slower towards them, making sure she walked upright, and stopped to study them more. Then recognizing the painfully familiar face, she smirked. "Why, dear Regulus, have you forgotten me, your dearly departed sister-in-law?" she said, talking to him as though he were her son, or her lover. She couldn't detect the voice either. She was kidding of course, but she said it too lazily for anything to be made out of it.
"Sister in law?" he said, racking the balls on the table. "I have no sister in law. I haven't a brother, so I couldn't possibly have a sister in law," he said, taking out a cigarette behind his ear and lighting it.
"Don't be foolish, little king," she said, and he stopped. "You do remember me, don't you?" She was speaking not seductively, but in a rather offended tone. How could he possibly forget her! Why, it was almost rude, she thought.
He knew who she was, but denied it privately, thinking she was some trick of his mind, or a manifestation of desire that had been plaguing him since his move to that dreadful city. But, she was like his sister, he thought. However there was nothing brotherly about how he pictured her.
"You're a man now," she said, as if she had anything to do with it.
He walked towards her with Black superiority and looked her deep in the face. He crossed his arms and circled her. She stared into his disbelieving eyes and smiled. He stepped back, and took in her appearance. No, he thought. Not after—all this time. It was confirmed, for she wasn't seventeen anymore. No, she certainly wasn't. He sighed, but then blurted out, as childishly as humanly possible, "You married him?"
"Mm hmm," she said, and crossed her arms to rival his.
"What the fuck are you doing here then?" he said, angrily, walking back to his table. He lit up a cigarette. No, cigarettes smelled of smoke. This smell was more distinct.
"Business," was all she said, scrunching her nose. The fumes had made her eyes water.
"You don't belong here." He said this with a juvenile behaviour she didn't forget, and remembered how little she cared for.
"Neither do you. Christ, it looks like Dorian Grey threw up all over that horrific set up out there."
"It's just the junkies, my dear Bella," he said, approaching her once more. "Just to scare wonderers away."
" A lot like I remember," she said.
"Were you frightened?"
"A tad, well, no not really," she said, honestly.
Then Regulus Black smiled at her, and his eyes, reminiscent of Sirius', made her heart tremble, and she was frozen by their gaze. He opened his arms and hugged her sweetly, generously, and she returned it, forgetting how nice it felt to be held like that, by a man. "So, what have you been doing with yourself, my Belle? Living the high life?"
"Hardly," she whispered.
He shook his head. "I can't believe you married my brother," he said, saying the last word as if he had just tasted something awfully bitter. "Why?"
"I thought you didn't have a brother," she said, behind a laugh. "Comfort reasons. It didn't work out."
"Is he not treating you right? Is that why you ran away, to me?" he said, smirking, and rubbing her shoulders.
"I think you are confused by our relationship. I never intended to be with you," she said, offending him, but only slightly. "No. Sirius was actually…….quite perfect," she said, a glassy film beginning to cover her eyes. Regulus' smile faded.
"So why did you come to me? I'm not going to talk to him," he said, but she knew that was obvious.
"I didn't come here to talk about your brother," she said, waving her hand away. "I don't rightly know what I came here for."
"Yes you do," he said. "It sure as hell wasn't a stroll down memory lane."
"Oh, hell no," she said, shuddering. "Now, tell me, are you right twenty yet?" she asked, gliding her hand on the pool table.
"Yea, why?"
"Oh, how lovely. So, have they made you……..part of the circle yet?"
"No. What's with the small talk?"
"For fuck's sake, Regulus! Let me finish. Ugh, see, now I'm frustrated."
"For fuck's sake, you needn't take all this baggage out on me. I didn't do anything," Regulus said.
"No, darling, you didn't," she said. "And I actually didn't plan to see you, but now that you're here—"
"I hope you don't want a favour," he said, blowing a puff of smoke in the air.
"Well—"
"I'll do you a favour, missy. Come over here—"
"Rabastan, shut up. Can he leave?" she asked.
"No."
"Bleedin' Christ. Is that Renton?" Rabastan said, slurring and swaying.
"Hi," she said.
"Blimey," he said, laughing.
"I need to speak with you, Mr. Black, and it needs to be private," she said, accenting her last word so that Regulus cocked his head, whereupon Rabastan left the room, only to listen from a more discreet location.
"Who did you expect would be here?" Regulus asked. "The Dark Lord makes no trips out here."
"I might have guessed. I wanted to speak with one of the old crowd, or kill them, or torture them. I haven't yet decided."
"Ah, a woman scorned. I thought you'd turn out this way."
"Did you? Well, what I need from you is information."
"Of what sort?" he asked, suddenly interested.
"And if you go blabbing I will kill you, without question. So don't fuck with me."
"Fine, my God. You know what'll happen if I do, though. I'd rather you kill me."
She paused, and started clicking her nails on the ancient pool table. "Regulus," she said, and sighed. "Do you love me?"
He looked at her oddly, and scratched his head. "On what grounds?" he asked.
"I need your help," she said, taking his hand and bringing it to her. "I need to end this, if only for me, or Sirius, or us, whatever. He has to stop," she whispered.
"What do you propose I do for you?" he said, pulling his hand away. "If you think I'm going to betray—"
"Regulus, please—" she said. "I know there are things you know, inner circle or not—"
"Hold on. If you think I'm going to go against what I believe in simply for your desire to know information then you are madder than I could have ever conceived! I took an oath. I made a vow, which I refuse to break, unlike you!" he said, pointing fiercely at her. "I am committed to my cause—"
"The cause that kills innocent people, good people, and the very wizards who elevated you to your superior status? Listen to what you're saying! This is wrong, and you know it. You're doing it for your family, to be the perfect son because Sirius was a failure! You think it's noble to parade in black robes and conjure a Morsmordre just to prove you stood against society? Voldomort will not make things better, don't you see? He will only destroy. What do you think will happen once he sees he doesn't need you? What will you do once it's done? Will you be able to live with yourself?"
"Oh, listen to you, you hypocrite! You joined because you were in love. You joined because there was no way out. No isn't that interesting? And you believed! You believed in us, in everything, in power and purity when you are half-Muggle yourself! You defied us, me, Lucius, all of us! You made him out to be a fool, but you still bear it, and you can still feel it," he said, yanking her arm and showing her the mark of her insanity.
"But that's all changed, can't you tell? I may be mad, but I would die to save all of you from this. I would die for you, Regulus, if it meant you might have a chance at something real. I had that. I had it with Sirius, and it was wonderful," she said, sounding incredibly emotional. "This is not happiness. Look at us, how we've become. None of us are happy."
"I am happy!" he screamed. "You come here and show your face, you traitor, and act like you are entitled to something. Thinking by your witchy ways that you can fool me into thinking you're here for me, to help me. You are here for yourself! You want absolution? You want vengeance? Go to a fucking church! You want to be forgiven by the people you run out on? You don't deserve it! Even my brother doesn't deserve an unfaithful wench like you!"
Diana began to shake. He sounded like her husband when he yelled, and she realized what a mistake this was. Never was he out of her mind, and never did she yearn for him so deeply, to hold her, be inside her, to end the infinite suffering. She dropped to the floor. Her knees could no longer handle it. Everything he said had been true. Everything she had taught herself to believe was laid out in shambles at her feet. She buried her ebony hair in her hands and ran her long, dark fingernails through it, crying out in pain. Alarmed, he crouched next to her, never knowing how to comfort a woman.
"Sirius!" she cried, blubbering like an infant. "I'm sorry……..I'm so sorry," she sobbed. She had the emotional breakdown that was due, and Regulus stared at her in fear, and confusion.
He waited for her to desist before attempting to speak. "I shouldn't have said those things," he said.
"It's true. I don't fault you. I just—oh what was I thinking? I know what I have to do now," she sniffled. "I have to end this, all of this, and there is only one way to do that now. It's the only way."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"This has to stop. I have to stop, and there is only one way to do it. I have to shut myself off."
"Huh? What?"
"Forget this, this meeting. Forget all of it, of me." Her hands started to shake.
"Stop this."
"Just promise me, if you ever see him again, your brother. Tell him…..tell him—"
"Quiet. Don't talk like that. What on earth—"
"Tell him I love him."
"Well, the man loves you. We all loved you, in our own way, but Sirius……..I never spoke to him and I could still tell he wanted you. He loves you in a sweeter way than Lucius does."
"I suppose," she said. "It doesn't matter now."
"It does to you. You had happiness, which is more than I can hope for here. Strong or weak as you were, you sought it. I can't blame you for that."
"Oh, why are you here, my dear? You are too sweet for this nonsense," she said.
"Now, don't insult me. I just know what I see."
"And what do you see? This empty shell, my loveliness, it means nothing. What does it mean? I only bring pain. Don't you see?" she asked, sniffling.
He leaned in closer to her and took her hand, positioning himself better. "I'll tell you," he whispered. "But you must promise me that it will never leave this room. I'll tell you everything." He melted for her, as so many did. He saw her pain, and what a commitment such as this had brought her. He did love her, in his own way. Anything to make her stop crying, he thought. The information would not be of use anyway. Just a slip, for the common good. That was how he rationalized it.
Rabastan, from his secret place, overhearing every word had suddenly become alert. He smiled a most sinister smile, and rubbed his hands together, foreshadowing what a joyous surprise the demise of Regulus would be, and how a visit to his Lord would be in order.
"No," she said, getting up. "No, you mustn't. I can't. What good would it do? Not you, you can't be punished. Misguided as you are, you cannot!"
"Diana, Diana, lower your voice."
"Goodbye, my dear," she said, squeezing his hand. Without wiping her tears away, she fled that room, never to return to it. With her perfectly painted face looking like a washed out watercolour painting, she emerged back to the streets, the sun making her blind. Its garish rays making her head hurt and her feet stumble, she walked away from her life, never expecting to see anyone she loved again.
