Little Moments: 100 Themes
#71: Quiet Despair
Lillie Bell
Words: 876

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon

Thump…thump… thump-thump…thump-thump…

Usagi rocked harshly against the toilet lid, her back knocking against it as the lid slid forward and then back with her anxious movement. She halted abruptly when the sound of it echoed through her ears as that of a heartbeat. With shaking hands, she tightened her grip around her knees and pulled her body into a tighter ball. She could no longer hear the pseudo-rhythm of her rocking, but that of her own beating heart filled her ears. The constant sound tapped against her skull and resonated through the sudden emptiness of her soul.

Her dilated blue eyes stared forward at the taupe wall, mutely recognizing its peeling. She had planned to wallpaper the small bathroom, had planned to do a lot of things. She had started a mental list two weeks ago and in one hour the list was torn to shreds. Her hopes and dreams were on that list. She buried her face in her knees. Not to mention the trust of her husband.

The ghost of a breath left her lips at that thought, her entire body dropping in temperature. A cold, grievous chill tapped down the vertebrae of her spine finger-walking from her neck to her tailbone. He would know, undoubtedly he would know. Their insurance only supported the university hospital and she would be damned if the ER doctor didn't recognize her last name. She wiped a cold, clammy, shaking hand over her sweating face. And he would want to know why he hadn't known; why no one had known what she had just confirmed two weeks ago.

She wasn't sure what was pressing upon her soul more… his disappointment in her, or her own in herself.

Barely over three months…

The thought grasped her rapidly beating heart, chilling her body further. Sweat matted her brow and she stared ahead, lost in the sea of guilt. She had thought her worst hardships, her greatest losses, to be when Galaxia had taken everyone away from her. She thought the world had ended when they were gone and she gave herself to bring them back. Now, she understood the other side; when the one sacrificed was not she. She was the one left behind now, the one left to live her lonely life through while it, though dead, was presumed to be without suffering.

Her teeth chattered and everything, including the room, ceased its movements. It…Cold air stung her paper-thin lungs as dry lips crinkled and opened unwillingly to bring in the breath needed to sustain her. Her lids closed over distant blue orbs, crusty from the constant staring.

Barely three months… not enough for a heartbeat or a gender or a name. Hardly enough for a spinal cord. Her breath hitched. It wasn't even necessary for her to come back in order to pass it, only for a check on how well she did. Was it even enough for a soul?

She opened her dull eyes when the sound of the door closing came to her ears. Her senses heightened, she could hear every foot fall like a hammer upon her soul. She had not cried at all, simply stared at the doctor, then the escorting nurse. Had stared the entire way home until she slipped upon the toilet seat and turned to the taupe wall. She thought she would be sick, but even that seemed to be beyond her. She did nothing but stare at the wall and think of all the plans she had made, the greatest being to surprise him for his birthday in the coming week.

She had not cried, she was not sick and retching into the toilet, she simply stared. The foot falls slowed as they reached the bedroom and she heard the door creak open hesitantly. Her soul flew into her throat, choking her as her eyes stared above at the ceiling. Her dry eyes started to glisten and she struggled to keep her body from shaking. Nothing was worse than this moment. Nothing, and she felt his eyes upon her through the open bathroom door.

Her eyes drifted to his and she truly did choke on the dislodged soul. Bile rose and tears began a quiet cascade as she stared into his blue depths. Though better than the taupe wall, she was crushed at his expression. It was his attempt to be expressionless, to hide from her the emotions raging inside him not from anger, but from the understanding that she was hurting herself enough over it. And she cried; long, mournful sobs that shook her soul and body to the core, and covered her body in tears instead of sweat. She cried because even now he tried to protect her and she could not accept his love so willingly. She could not accept his forgiveness for what she did, and what did not happen. For what they could have had and she had not even shared with him for the small time available to them.

Yet, she still could not turn her eyes away from him and could not stop herself from pleading through them for comfort. So when his arms came around her, she grabbed him tightly, burying herself in his warmth. She sobbed harder, convulsing, into his sterile scrubs in self-hatred because she was distraught for abusing him one second and having the gall to demand his love the next.