I haven't posted anything on here for a while. But I thought you might
like this little Holly fic. Reviews would be lovely!
***
The shadows on the wall were distorted as the orange flame of the candle flickered in the breeze which blew in through the open window. In the background the sound of the radio could be faintly heard but she was ignoring it, blocking out the distant sounds of the presenters voice as he told the listeners about the latest competition. The song that was playing over and over in her head drowned out his voice. The song that held so many memories for her, memories that had once scared her but the fear had faded and the closeness that had been felt at that moment had glossed over the terrifying events of that night.
Fingering the rough material in her hands a solitary tear fell down her cheek. A bubble of anger that had been building up inside of her since she found out the exact details grew and grew until eventually it burst. Using all of her strength she pulled the fabric apart, tearing it to shreds, letting it fall to the floor until she was left with a single piece. Catching sight of the flame she held the material over it until the fire spread, then she just watched as it burnt, mesmerized by the oranges and yellows that danced about, making it seem as though the flame was alive. How could something deadly be so beautiful? Feeling the heat become more intense she quickly dropped the burning material onto the table, took the glass of water she'd been drinking from earlier and poured it onto the flames, looking on as they disappeared and grey smoke rose upwards, the smell filling her nose.
He was stubborn. Everyone knew that, she should have known that, especially if they were as close as everyone said they were. So why didn't she force him? Why didn't she ignore his protests and convince him that it was in his best interests to get looked at?
Some days it was hard...she thought about it some more, everyday was hard. Some said that the pain would fade in time, but she couldn't see it getting any easier. Her heart ached whenever his name echoed in her head, and she felt a constant emptiness in her life. She hadn't seen him for months but that didn't seem to matter, knowing that she would never see him again, no matter how much she wished she could.
Picking up the letter she looked at the words again, she had it memorised, knew exactly what it said but now as she looked at the words they weren't making sense, they were just patterns of ink marking the white paper.
Dear Holly, I have no idea how to start this letter. I wanted to phone you but we had no number for you, so I'm hoping your parents will pass this onto you. I know you and Patrick were close, very close, which is why I'm finding this so hard to write. I'm so sorry Holly, but he passed away this weekend.
Holly dropped the paper onto the floor, she didn't need to read any further, she could recite the whole thing to herself. She knew what had happened, but Duffy's version of events had carefully avoided Lara. After she had received the letter Holly had called Gordon and had been surprised when a soft Australian accent had answered. After talking to Gordon for a few minutes the pieces of the puzzle had fitted into place in her head. Lara had been her replacement at work and, so it would seem, in Patrick's heart.
Holly had never met her yet resented her. She had shared the last few weeks of his life with Patrick. She was the last person he spoke to, the last person he kissed, and the last person he woke up next to. Holly hated to think that.
Picking up the letter she read it one more time, making sure the whole thing was committed to memory. She held it over the candle and lowered it until the flame spread up onto the paper. By burning the letter Holly thought she could pretend it had never existed. Maybe she could erase the memories of the phone calls and the tears she had cried and he would come back. Deep down she knew it was irrational, thinking that this would change anything but she wanted him back, wanted to hear his voice, feel his touch one last time.
But she knew it would never be possible.
The ash from the burnt paper fell onto the table; Holly managed to put out the flames before they spread. Still the candle stayed alight, casting its shadows onto the cream coloured walls in front of her. Holly watched the orange flame flicker, not wanting to move away from it, hoping that something would happen, anything to stop the pain that was tearing apart her heart.
She watched the candle burn out, the flame eventually fading but the pain as strong as always.
***
The shadows on the wall were distorted as the orange flame of the candle flickered in the breeze which blew in through the open window. In the background the sound of the radio could be faintly heard but she was ignoring it, blocking out the distant sounds of the presenters voice as he told the listeners about the latest competition. The song that was playing over and over in her head drowned out his voice. The song that held so many memories for her, memories that had once scared her but the fear had faded and the closeness that had been felt at that moment had glossed over the terrifying events of that night.
Fingering the rough material in her hands a solitary tear fell down her cheek. A bubble of anger that had been building up inside of her since she found out the exact details grew and grew until eventually it burst. Using all of her strength she pulled the fabric apart, tearing it to shreds, letting it fall to the floor until she was left with a single piece. Catching sight of the flame she held the material over it until the fire spread, then she just watched as it burnt, mesmerized by the oranges and yellows that danced about, making it seem as though the flame was alive. How could something deadly be so beautiful? Feeling the heat become more intense she quickly dropped the burning material onto the table, took the glass of water she'd been drinking from earlier and poured it onto the flames, looking on as they disappeared and grey smoke rose upwards, the smell filling her nose.
He was stubborn. Everyone knew that, she should have known that, especially if they were as close as everyone said they were. So why didn't she force him? Why didn't she ignore his protests and convince him that it was in his best interests to get looked at?
Some days it was hard...she thought about it some more, everyday was hard. Some said that the pain would fade in time, but she couldn't see it getting any easier. Her heart ached whenever his name echoed in her head, and she felt a constant emptiness in her life. She hadn't seen him for months but that didn't seem to matter, knowing that she would never see him again, no matter how much she wished she could.
Picking up the letter she looked at the words again, she had it memorised, knew exactly what it said but now as she looked at the words they weren't making sense, they were just patterns of ink marking the white paper.
Dear Holly, I have no idea how to start this letter. I wanted to phone you but we had no number for you, so I'm hoping your parents will pass this onto you. I know you and Patrick were close, very close, which is why I'm finding this so hard to write. I'm so sorry Holly, but he passed away this weekend.
Holly dropped the paper onto the floor, she didn't need to read any further, she could recite the whole thing to herself. She knew what had happened, but Duffy's version of events had carefully avoided Lara. After she had received the letter Holly had called Gordon and had been surprised when a soft Australian accent had answered. After talking to Gordon for a few minutes the pieces of the puzzle had fitted into place in her head. Lara had been her replacement at work and, so it would seem, in Patrick's heart.
Holly had never met her yet resented her. She had shared the last few weeks of his life with Patrick. She was the last person he spoke to, the last person he kissed, and the last person he woke up next to. Holly hated to think that.
Picking up the letter she read it one more time, making sure the whole thing was committed to memory. She held it over the candle and lowered it until the flame spread up onto the paper. By burning the letter Holly thought she could pretend it had never existed. Maybe she could erase the memories of the phone calls and the tears she had cried and he would come back. Deep down she knew it was irrational, thinking that this would change anything but she wanted him back, wanted to hear his voice, feel his touch one last time.
But she knew it would never be possible.
The ash from the burnt paper fell onto the table; Holly managed to put out the flames before they spread. Still the candle stayed alight, casting its shadows onto the cream coloured walls in front of her. Holly watched the orange flame flicker, not wanting to move away from it, hoping that something would happen, anything to stop the pain that was tearing apart her heart.
She watched the candle burn out, the flame eventually fading but the pain as strong as always.