A drabble I wrote that went nowhere, and sadly, is going to go nowhere.
I really don’t know how I feel about this movie. Trish is crying into Josh’s shoulder, and it seems as if Josh is taking advantage of this by sending soft coos to her ear while he pets her hair. In the middle of it all, he sends a ‘win!’ wink my way, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at him. Poor Trish doesn’t even notice and keeps sobbing without worry, and it’s then when I realize she has probably forgotten all about my existence. Hell, she’s probably not even aware of what she’s burying her tears into. I turn to glance at Liriel, who was once seated across the room from me. At times like this, we tend to feel like the awkward wheels before we decide to roll off elsewhere. Instead, I just stare at the bare spot on the blue wall where her head used to rest, and at this, my lips press down into a frown.
Where could she have run off to? It’s not like she could have left the room in fear of me, or anyone for that matter, seeing her cry. Could she even cry? Could she even feel? At all? Behind those brilliant eyes of hers were black coals, and taking that into consideration, it’s hard for me to believe she can. This only makes my frown dive deeper, and before I can stop it, I’m worrying about her. Although admitting that to her would be like Josh admitting he was wrong about something. Liriel and I are two completely separate people, and it is just going to stay that way despite the arm nudges and eyebrow quirks Josh sends my way every so often. Though saying Liriel and I are close would be an understatement, but it’s different than what’s considered normal. As close as we are, we have never shared anything to each other that didn’t have to do with our current mess, and … it really didn’t bother me until now. And now, suddenly I have this strange urge to jump up and find her, to tell her every little detail of my life that I can remember. I want her to know me, to really know me, even if all she really wants to know is if I’m still breathing. I don’t even care if the only response I get is wide eyes or a scoff – I just want her to listen, for her to understand, so she can have a piece of me that’s hers and hers only. A piece she’d never be able to get rid of.
I feel the urge travel from my now twisting stomach and to my fingertips, which I clutch around my pillow to keep from crying out her name.
Holy hell, I really need to stop watching Lifetime.
