A/N: Okay, first off, I don't own Cold Case or any of the characters. This is a one shot story. I was home sick today, and decided I wanted to write about someone feeling worse than me. Cheerful, huh? So, love it or hate it, drop me a review at the end of the story. Thanks! And spoilers for this story, would be anything that has happened this season (2).
"Tough night?" The sleazy bartender asked as he placed my drink in front of me.
Me? Have a tough night? No. I'm here to get plastered because my life is just perfectly wonderful. Tough night, geez….What kind of question is that! Of course I'm having a tough night. But if you think for one second that I am going to end up so drunk that I'll go home with you, you've got another one coming you sleazy son of a. . .
"Yeah. Rough day at work. Thanks." I answered wrapping my hands around the cool glass. He stopped, like he was going to say something more, but the death glare I gave him sent him on his way.
That's it. Good bartender. Go annoy someone else.
I sighed, and watched as a happy couple entered the bar.
Why can't I find a guy? Why? Is it too much to ask for a nice, decent guy that understands how important my work is to me? I didn't think so. I guess it wouldn't hurt to make him cute either. But, what am I thinking, the best relationship with a guy, friend or otherwise, I've had in the last year is with James. A guy I put away for his grandmothers murder.
I shifted my weight on the stool and brought one elbow up onto the counter, resting my head in my hand.
Now that I think about it, letters back and forth to James (who is still in jail) doesn't really count as a friendship. But what the hell, I mean, at least I've got him.
God, that sounds so pathetic.
I took a big sip of my drink as I felt a very familiar dull pain erupt in my stomach.
Used to be friends with Scotty. That is, until he started screwing my sister. After a few weeks of tension, things just exploded between us. It was ugly.
I had to go and make that comment about Alyssa. . .
I took another swig of my drink, hoping to drown out my thoughts. But it didn't help.
He didn't deserve that. Yes he did. No he didn't.
I swiftly finished off my drink and signaled to the annoying bartender that I wanted another.
He lied to my face. He and Chris were sneaking around behind my back. God, I was even starting to like having her around. . .
My head started spinning; my emotions began to go haywire. I slapped a $20 on the fake wooden counter, and slid off of my stool. I sluggishly made my way towards to door. I was going to break down any second and so help me God if I was going to let anyone see. If I had to cry, I would much rather be tucked away in my own little corner of the world, than in some crowded bar.
Just a few more blocks, keep breathing. Don't cry. Lily Rush you WILL NOT cry.
As I hurried down the street I was reminded of a time, 9 years ago, when those same words had been scrawled across my mind.
Listen Rush, you will not cry, you will not think about Patrick, Christina, or Scotty. Just keep walking.
As I was passing through the park, I knew their was no way my tears were going to wait until I was behind closed doors. I found an uninhabited park bench and sat down. I drew my legs up onto the bench and wrapped my arms around them, burying my face in my knees.
God, I hate crying. Stop it Rush. You're tough. Get over it.
But my mental pep talk did not help. My insides were crumbling, my wall was falling, and their was nothing I could do to stop it. I sat there on that bench, and gave in. After so many years of fighting, so many years of trying to be strong, I finally opened up and let all my intense emotions drain out of me. The knot in my stomach tightened, and my entire body shook with each sob. As embarrassed as I was to be crying my heart out in such a public place, I didn't attempt to stop. The flood gates had been opened, and I was not strong enough to stop my tears from gushing through.
When I finally lifted my head,I sniffled and looked up at the clear sky above me, freckled with stars. I couldn't help but remember a conversation between Chris and me. I was 15, and she was 13. Our mom was passed out drunk in the living room. And even after hours of combing through the house, I couldn't find a single scrap of food for our dinner. Not even a few measly bucks to get us something cheap at the gas station down the street. Chris and I were looking out the window of our bedroom, gazing at the few stars we could see peeking through the clouds.
"Lil, are we ever going to get out of here?" She had asked
"Yeah Chris, we are. You and me, we are going to get out of Kensington, and away from mom. We are going to have great lives." I had answered
"You think so?"
"I know so. Look Chris, pick a star. We'll wish on it."
"Aren't we a little old for that?"
"C'mon Chris, what could it hurt? Besides. . . who is going to know?"
Chris had smiled, taken my hand and pointed to one of the stars. That night, we wished as hard as we could on that star.
I smiled, in spite of the tears running down my face.
What could it hurt?
I wiped them away, and scanned the sky.
Who's going to know?
I picked a star, and shut my eyes.
A/N: Now that you've read it, feel free to leave a review. I accept anything. Postive reviews, flames, whatever. I'd just like to see some reaction to this story...thanks!
