Trigun, and all its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow, Pioneer, Geneon, and a bunch of other people I don't know about, and is being used without permission. Don't sue. Anita Marie Stryfe belongs to me, as does Meryl's big brother.
When she was five, she loved her big brother. He had rays of sunshine for hair and pieces of the sky for eyes, and he always laughed just enough, and smiled just right. He was her sun, moon, and stars.
When she was six, Mommy brought Anita Marie Stryfe into the world, and she was perfect. She had peach fuzz for hair and chips of coal for eyes, and she was like a dolly come to life. She was her earth, sky, and heaven.
When she was eight, she hated her big brother. His hair shone too brightly and his eyes were too blue. He laughed too long, too loud, and his smile was too big like he thought everything was funny, but it wasn't, nothing was, not since Anita was taken away (whywhyitsnotfairgiveherbackgiveherbackgiveherback). Mommy never stopped crying, Daddy went to the saloon a lot, and her big brother never visited the grave, not even once, he was so stupid! He ran around with bad people, doing bad things, he abandoned her, and she realized that she had to take care of Mommy and Daddy from now on.
When she was nine, Daddy took her to the shooting range and gave her a gun, a small gun to fit her hands, with only one bullet. It was for emergencies only, and she felt scared and strong, deadly and holy (whywhyidontunderstandihateilovemakeitstop) and somehow she knew she needed more than one shot; bad guys never played fair in emergencies.
When she was eleven, she never had a friend over, because friends were giggly and not serious. They had hair that was perfect, too perfect, and they had voices like angels, and they never stopped talking, even when there was nothing to say (stoppitstoppitstoppitwhywontyoubequiet) and her brother, when he was home, looked at them funny. She realized that perfection was annoying when it was there all the time.
When she was fifteen, she landed a part time job at an insurance agency, and she loved it. Filing was calming, numbers were welcoming, there was order and control and she could pretend that she really was all grown up and everything was going to plan. Mom had stopped crying, but she was sad all the time (whywhyitwassolongagoletitgo), and her brother never smiled anymore, never, not even at Christmas. Dad found his solace his ever-present whiskey bottle, and she realized she stopped caring a while ago.
When she was sixteen, she learned how to drive, and she cut her thigh length hair up to her chin. It was too disorderly, too unorganized, too chaotic, it was everywhere and she couldn't stand the mess, it blew everywhere, got into everything, Mom hated it (whywhyitsnotyourbodyimnotherleavemealone), Dad wasn't sober, her brother ignored her. She decided spending more time at work was good, very, very good.
When she was seventeen, she fell in love with a boy. He had jackrabbit hair and stormcloud eyes, and his smile was gentle and slow and warm, and lit her up like a candle. She loved him right up until she found him happily entangled in her best friend's arms (whywhyitsnotfairgivehimbackgivehimbackGIVEHIMBACK) and if she were honest with herself, she loved him just a little while after.
When she was nineteen, she loved her new best friend. She had sand hair and blue margarita eyes, and was just right. They were always together, and she felt like she got her baby sister back (anitamillymillyanitawhichoneareyou) maybe they could pretend they were family. And even if the pudding obsession was a little odd, well, everyone has his or her quirks, why should she be any different?
When she was twenty-two, she met another man, and she hated him at first (whywhylookslikemybrothergrowup) and then she learned to see him deeper. He was kind and goofy and idiotic and serious and sad, sad, sad, and before she knew it, she was in love again. He stole her heart (whywhyitsnotfairgiveitbackgiveitbackGIVEITBACKfinedont), he didn't even realize it, and she realized that she didn't care, it was big and scary and heady and bitter and beautiful; she felt more than she had in years and she decided that maybe it didn't matter too much if he didn't love her back.
But it would be nice.
That was… interesting. Why on earth did I punish Meryl so much? Goodness, gracious. The run-ons and vague pronouns were intentional. Did it work? Please let me know! Drop me a review! And thank you to both Shadsie and Millyfan for doing a quick beta!