She didn't deserve it.
She was a woman of stature, after all. A woman who wrote books, was highly recognized throughout all history. She had checked.
Christina didn't deserve it either. She was so young, so sweet, so innocent. What had she done to deserve to die, have her life snatched away from her?
If only I'd been there, I would have protected her, keep her safe.
But Christina was gone. Again. It was as if life wanted to spit in her face, slowly wear away at her until she cracked, or crumbled, or both. Life wished her hell, and it used every power it had to give her it. It gave her hell every day.
It gave her hell the day Christina died. She had broken then, crumpled to the floor with a cry. It took years for her to heal. And even then, she never did fully heal.
Now, she just wanted to live life to the fullest, forget about the past.
Life had other plans of course.
It took her sweetest memory, her happiest place on earth, and turned it bitter. Sour, like an unripe fruit.
My Christina was like an apple. So sweet and always giving happiness.
She was reminded of her when the memories flooded back, almost as if she was there once again, playing happily with her daughter. She didn't want to leave, she knew she had to, but who could leave their child, when they had only just touched once again?
Life is cruel.
It wishes to see you fall, and then laughs when you try to get back up again. It rejoices in your failures and smiles when you mourn. It loves to see the tears riveting down your cheeks as you bitterly cry, all hope lost.
In reality, life doesn't care about your accomplishments, or your stature.
It screws you over, all the same.
And it couldn't wait to see Helena cry again.