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are you alive or just existing?
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Sansa was a happy kid.
Her mom always tells stories at the dinner table about how she used to climb trees and run around getting her dresses dirty and how her hair looked like fire when the sun shone on it.
Those stories are followed by a sigh and pitying look.
„What happened? You have everything you could want, why are you always so sad?"
I don´t know mom, Sansa wants to scream, i don´t need a reason to feel like shit.
Instead she leaves the table and goes back to her room.
Her blinds are drawn shut, keeping out the evening sun, and her floor is littered with clothes and Cd´s and everything else.
She used to care about that.
Used to keep her room clean and pretty and herself even cleaner and prettier.
She doesn't know when it changed.
When she started wearing her hair messy and in limp ponytails, put all her dresses and beautiful clothes to the back of her dresser and made room for hoodies and jeans, when she stopped putting on make up and brushing her hair and caring what others said about her.
Sansa knows they talk behind her back, knows they say she´s a freak, disgusting, ugly, stupid, attention seeker, …
She wishes it would make her feel something, would make her scream or cry or even laugh.
Instead she's numb.
Has been for a long time now.
(She doesn't know how long. Time is something she has no control over anymore. Most of the time she has no idea what day of the week it is.)
She lays down, it´s not even eight yet but nowadays she always feels tired, and closes her eyes.
Downstairs somebody screams, Arya or Rickon, and she hears Robbs deep laugh.
Lady whimpers and scratches at her door, Ghost barks outside her window.
Sansa wishes they would all just stop.
She wishes the world would stop.
She slowly counts to ten and then everything is quiet.
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She wakes up the next day to sounds coming from downstairs.
Arya and Bran are fighting and Sansa pulls her pillow over her head, trying to block them out.
It doesn't work.
A glance at her mobile display tells her that it´s 4pm already.
She slept over 20 hours.
It doesn't even surprise her anymore.
Standing up Sansa doesn't make an attempt to change out of her sweatpants and shirt into something else, her hair is falling out of its ponytail, thick, red strands falling into her face.
She doesn't notice them.
Her feet are cold on the wooden floor and her room is dark, blinds still drawn shut, light switched off.
She navigates her way to the door with ease, only making contact with her dresser once and uttering a quiet curse.
The light in the hall is harsh, the natural sun streaming in through the windows making her eyes and head hurt.
Sansa feels exhausted.
She thinks about going back to bed.
But her throat is aching (god knows why, it's not like she's been talking much the last weeks) and she desperately wants a glass of water.
Also, her bladder is short of bursting.
The bathroom on her floor is empty and if she thought the light in the hall was bad, this here is hell.
Bright, white lamps are reflecting on the marble tiles and she squeezes her eyes shut.
After using the toilet and washing her hands she looks up and meets her face in the mirror.
The girl looking back at Sansa is a stranger.
Hollow cheekbones, empty eyes and limp hair.
The redhead feels like her reflection should prompt some reaction from her, anything, but all she can do is stare numbly.
She's been mostly good at ignoring mirrors, except for the one in the schools girls bathroom, that one caught her without warning.
Sansa used to love mirrors, used to love spending hours in front of them, looking at herself, getting herself ready.
Those memories seem so strange now, like they're not her own, like past Sansa is someone completely different than present Sansa, which is probably true, but it's still strange that she feels so disconnected to everything that happened before she sunk into the sadness and her own mind.
Before she drowned in it.
She looks down again, fast.
Her hands grip the sink and it feels good because it's the most emotion she's shown in months.
But it doesn't last, her arms are too weak and she is too weak and she leaves the bathroom without looking back up again.
Down in the living room her Mom is flicking through a magazine while the TV is showing some sports game Robb had probably been watching.
Catelyn Stark is humming and the door into the back yard is open and she can see Arya and Rickon running around, Bran sitting in the sun reading.
The Stark household is always loud and full of live and Sansa used to love it, used to be proud of her Family and her siblings and being part of something so big and beautiful.
Now it's all just too much, no matter where she goes somebody is always talking and asking things and laughing and she wants it all to stop.
Is it too much to ask for some quiet?
But then again, Sansa doesn't really ask.
Sansa had hoped she could steal into the kitchen and back upstairs again without somebody
noticing, but the second her feet touch onto the wood floor her Mom turns around.
„Sansa! I thought you would never get up!" Catelyn smiles at her and it's so forced Sansa almost winces.
Her and her mom used to have a great relationship. They used to go to the mall together and Sansa talked to her about her crushes and everything else and they laughed a lot.
But that was old Sansa and new Sansa doesn't know how to do all that and that's what her Mom doesn't understand.
She wants old Sansa back, she doesn't know how to talk to new Sansa, how to help new Sansa.
Sansa herself just wishes her Mom would stop trying.
She motions in the kitchen and turns around to make her way there, away from prying eyes, but of course her Mother stands up from her spot on the couch and follows.
Of course.
The younger Stark girl opens a bottle of water and gets a glass from the shelve.
Maybe if she ignores that her Mom is in the room with her the older woman will leave her alone.
Yeah, wishful thinking.
„So anyway, I'm really glad you're awake. I had thought for a moment you had forgotten about the charity event at the Lannisters this evening."
Sansa hadn't forgotten, she had repressed it.
An event at the Lannisters is the last thing she wanted, the last thing anyone wanted, really.
But of course, her mother didn't see it that way.
„I already laid out a dress for you, it's in your room. You're gonna love it sweetie, it's perfect for you."
-No mom, old Sansa would have loved it. I don't care.-
She never says the words, but thinks them at least five times a day.
Instead she looks at her mom, at the forced happy look and the strained smile.
„I'm not going to that." She mumbles into her glass, because if there is one thing that hasn't changed about her it's that she´s a coward.
-Cowardly, weak, little Sansa.-
Her moms face changes from pretend happy to strict, to angry, to not understanding, to annoyed. Sansa knows what´s coming.
„No way young lady. You are going. I don't know what is going on with you at the moment, what made you become this totally different person, but whatever it is snap out of it.
This is something we are doing as a family, and even though you do your best not to be, you are part of that family.
I am not letting you ruin this evening."
Because that's all Sansa ever does, right? Ruin things.
And really, what more could she have said to that.
Her mom had it all figured out.
Sansa just had to snap out of it.
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A/N:
Okay so chapter 2.
I hope you all like this story so far and if you do please comment because I already have a few more chapters written and if people like this I will post them!
You can also find me on tumblr: clexalicious
Thanks for reading!;)