[dominique a]: 41.This Time, He Lived

He was so furious. It's doubted that he even felt the needle- like stabs on his skin as the freezing rain drops hit it. His toes senseless from the cold, blue no less than his now red from crying eyes, his feet scratched, bruised, leaving a trace of blood stains behind, he didn't feel any of this. That's how furious he was. He could go back. He's managed to come so far, then surely he can make it back the same way, can't he? Yes, he could go back. They'll have him, they'll sit him to one of those quiet little talks, he'll say that he was wrong, they'll say that indeed, yes, he was, that they know and they forgive him. They will accept him, yes, they'll forgive him. But his pride won't. And who does he have to go to sleep with at night, and wake up with in the morning? Therefore he shall not go back. He'll turn his head and look back twice, 3 times, a million, but he'll not go back, and where is he going? Nowhere, he knew, heh,he's going nowhere.
The worst part was, that he wasn't sure whether he even cared about her or not. He just really, really... wanted to be there first. She knew that he would come running, she knew what the consequence of her actions might become, but she just couldn't help herself, could she, now? Still, there, now he's running exactly her direction, none the less. He loved her now, like never before, and he also hated her more than he did the worst of his enemies. Why are you running, fool? Why the rush? Are you running to save her? Are you running to kill her yourself?

I don't know how long she's been walking around the room in circles, I doubt it if she remembered, herself. Stopping in front of the door, touching the handle (Yes, it's exactly where it was when she last grabbed it, about an hour ago), then turning around and walking towards the window. She wants to come out. No, she doesn't. Oh, but you do... Don't lie to yourself, you do. and now her back started to hurt, from carrying this back pack for so many hours, while she's in that room, ready to go out at any minute. Eventually, of course, she's had enough. Alright, she thought at last, blew on her hands and then rubbed them together to keep them warm, then put one hand on the handle, this time, opened it, one foot lading in the snow outside, and off she goes. She's... having trouble with looking people in the eyes. She always appears to be so freakin' confident, smiling this really big smile, when all she wants to do is to crawl into some dark corner,and wrap her arms around her knees, and stick her head between them, and wait, maybe die without noticing... But She knows she's not going to die that way, that's not how it works. She'll shrink as if she's trying to catch as less space in this world as she can, and she'll put her head between her knees... and she'll calm down. She'll feel better, and She'll forget about this skin in which she's jailed, for a while, and She'll be good to go, for a while. But at some point someone will make a comment about anything, anything regarding to her, even the smallest thing, and She'll remember. It'll all come back, and she might as well have never left that dark corner. It's no use, neither is any other form of pushing it all aside and hide. So she kept on going, what else could she do? There she was, Not wanting to die, but thinking that she wouldn't mind if something would kill her right now, suddenly. secretly, deep in her heart, she may even hopped that something would.
She's reached the place, looked around, and the sick yellow colour of the pasture reminded her of how nature has a way of expressing very well human emotions. He wasn't there. So she sat on the ground, joining nature in his expression of her own despair, and the battle between ration and emotion had begun. That's how it's always been. That's what you always did. He's not on time, again. He might appear in an hour, or later during the evening, or, she shuddered, not at all. You never know, you only guess. Yet you wait for him, he is more independent than you, he lets you go as far as he would ever let anyone go. Yet he doesn't want to be with you, he doesn't want to be with anyone. He needs you for certain moments... but he doesn't NEED you, he needs himself, and that hurts, doesn't it? Yes... Because you, who have always firmly maintained the mantra of "don't lose your head", trusted him like a little girl who needed love, and not just any love, but love of a very special kind... isn't it so? Oh, yes... and deep down inside you know the truth, it has already started... You're losing yourself to him, and he WILL crash you, but you can't stop it. She kept going, poisoning or empoisoning her brain, and she won't stop. Not before he either comes, or that she knows that he's not going to. He's killing you, and you know it. He's not gentle enough. You've tried to tell him. You've tried, you've cried. But you know who he is, Dominique. He's the one who makes you fall right into his arms by telling you lies... good words, comforting words, Lies.
Words and actions are VERY different things. No matter how you felt that night, how good he made you feel by knowing, and performing on you the stupid, foolish things that every girl would fall for and he knew that so would you. And the bottom line, Dominique, is that you are sitting on yellow grass, staring at nothing, and he's gone. Liar.

<Thoughts of the other night</b>