They reappeared in an empty, desolate flat, and just beyond the doors they could hear the sounds of people rustling by, traffic blowing through. Krystle was staring at her hands, her whole body shaking. Blood was streaming through slashes in her palms and fingers. Becca sighed in exasperation and sat her on an empty box, then began to rustle through the first-aid kit and fix her younger sister up. "Did you see the mirror?" Krystle said, her voice quite steady and even, though slightly distant. Becca shook her head no. "It was beautiful, really, all that shattered glass..." She looked down at her hands again, a serene expression on her face. One outlash of rage was all it took, and she was quiet again. "I really am sorry, you know," she said suddenly, her voice still steady. "About...well, everything, mostly; our whole, sorry mess of lives."
Becca gazed at her sister, trying to find meaning in her stormy face. "Look, I know you really are sorry. Yet you have to prove to me that you aren't going to keep wasting your time waiting for the perfect mate to come around. Some people don't always find their mates for life when they're only just out of high school, it takes many years for some. Believe me on this, I wished finding my love was easy, but it never turned out that way." She enveloped all mind and thought to bandaging her sister's hands so the painful memories wouldn't engulf her entirely.
"I stopped looking after that last disaster." Krystle winced as pain finally began to register in her hands. "And now, coming back from that time, it seems useles. I'm done looking. It's not for the want of not hurting - you know me, I love hurting. Makes my writing better." She offered a half-grin, one that looked almost painful. "But I can hurt in different ways. I'm done trying to find him. If he wants me, he can just get his lazy butt up and find me." Krystle seemed satisfied with her own explanation and nodded. "You'll find him though, Becca," she said suddenly, as gently as she could. "You've got many more optimistic fantasies than me...though I know that a part of you is just like me. It's like we've partially become one another, after all this time." Her eyes turned much more somber. "And for that, I really am sorry. You don't need that."
"Oh dear sister, stop being so mellow dramatic," She half smiled at this oxy-moron, her sister didn't always have the same attitude that Becca seemed to have plastered on her at all times, though she never quite believed that anyone would ever love her back. She never really told her sister this, because her sister was busy dealing with her own love disasters. Smiling faintly at her sister, she mumbled, "Never bloody give up, keep on truckin'." Grimacing at her sister, she tied off the last bandage and cut off the remainder, stowing the small first aid kit into one of her lower pockets.