Post by Firebringer on Feb 12, 2021 9:13:04 GMT -8
Danica sits at a table in a busy cafe, her long red hair up in a messy bun beneath a black beanie. It’s the middle of winter and thankfully, she doesn’t look a bit out of place as she stares down at a menu, her face mostly covered. She isn’t staring at the menu, of course, her eyes are trained on a practically miniature version of herself.
The brunette girl with the pixie cut sits with a group of other teenage girls. They’re all dressed in colorful winter garments, holding cups of hot drinks in their hands. While their voices are loud and excited as they laugh and talk about random, inconsequential topics, Danica isn’t quite able to pick out much of anything they are actually saying.
You cut your hair? It’s pretty… There was that big, sisterly urge to both tease and compliment. Ruffle her hair, laugh. Just pretend life hadn’t drastically changed in the last few years. I guess you did just fine without me. The thought rippled through her painfully, as if she’d been stabbed.
She’d always been there for Talia. Since the moment she was born, she knew she had to protect her, be there for her, pick up the pieces when everything fell apart. After all, they’d only had each other. Mom and dad got themselves doped and left us behind. I did everything I could, sis…
But that didn’t really matter, did it? She stumbled through a hedge gate and she got captured. She’d left Talia behind too. She didn’t mean to, it wasn’t her fault, but she did. Talia slammed the door in her face when she returned. She had a foster family now, one that cared and Danica had no place in her life anymore. The sister that abandoned her.
The Torrent sits there, a long cooled tea in front of her as she continues her act. It wasn’t a new act. Every other Tuesday, this is where Talia came after dance. And every other Tuesday, Danica would find herself in the same spot, watching the same scene, over and over again.
But if this is all she could have and the alternative was to never see her sister again, then she could be content with just this. Knowing she’s okay. Knowing she is living, even if it is without her.
I can be content. This is enough.
At least, that’s what she’ll tell herself every other Tuesday.
This is enough...
This will never be enough.
The brunette girl with the pixie cut sits with a group of other teenage girls. They’re all dressed in colorful winter garments, holding cups of hot drinks in their hands. While their voices are loud and excited as they laugh and talk about random, inconsequential topics, Danica isn’t quite able to pick out much of anything they are actually saying.
You cut your hair? It’s pretty… There was that big, sisterly urge to both tease and compliment. Ruffle her hair, laugh. Just pretend life hadn’t drastically changed in the last few years. I guess you did just fine without me. The thought rippled through her painfully, as if she’d been stabbed.
She’d always been there for Talia. Since the moment she was born, she knew she had to protect her, be there for her, pick up the pieces when everything fell apart. After all, they’d only had each other. Mom and dad got themselves doped and left us behind. I did everything I could, sis…
But that didn’t really matter, did it? She stumbled through a hedge gate and she got captured. She’d left Talia behind too. She didn’t mean to, it wasn’t her fault, but she did. Talia slammed the door in her face when she returned. She had a foster family now, one that cared and Danica had no place in her life anymore. The sister that abandoned her.
The Torrent sits there, a long cooled tea in front of her as she continues her act. It wasn’t a new act. Every other Tuesday, this is where Talia came after dance. And every other Tuesday, Danica would find herself in the same spot, watching the same scene, over and over again.
But if this is all she could have and the alternative was to never see her sister again, then she could be content with just this. Knowing she’s okay. Knowing she is living, even if it is without her.
I can be content. This is enough.
At least, that’s what she’ll tell herself every other Tuesday.
This is enough...
This will never be enough.