I have been writing too much angst lately...
Susan remembers everything about the moment she got the letter. Everything except the name of the person who wrote it. She remembers how the sun was shining, almost sickeningly joyful. She’d rather enjoyed it…before the letter. Now the way the sun seemed to shine with some ridiculous joy makes her sick to her stomach. The air had smelled of lavender. She remembers that. She even can recall the color of the post boy’s eyes. She wishes she could forget all of the little things that she remembers and that she’d been home.
Arms wrapped around her waist as she once more looks over the letter, blue eyes staring in disbelief at the letters there as her eyes well up, causing everything to become blurry. Ed...Lu…Peter…Gone. All of them in one go. And here she was in America, not even able to get back to be there now. She tugs at her hair, uncertain what else to do with her hands. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She’d meant to go back after this year. She was going to spend time with them, see them. She hears a knock from the door, eyes shooting up and glaring at the door with all the intensity she can muster. She didn’t want visitors. She didn’t want people coming in to tell her that it was all going to be alright. It wasn’t going to be alright. Her family…they were gone. Nothing was alright about her being the only one left alive. Nothing was alright with that at all.
The knock once again, followed by a soft voice. “I don’t want to talk…” Her voice was tired, hollow. She looked at the outfit she was wearing, almost instantly looking for the plainest thing her wardrobe had. Once she’d found it, she put it on and let out a small sigh. Button up shirts and sweaters and skirts like she’d used to wear. This was more like home. She almost cursed as she heard the door opening, a boy around her age peeking his head in. She noted that he never was very good at listening when she was in a bad mood. Too much chivalry. It almost made her laugh that there would be a time when she would find too much chivalry in someone. However, now wasn’t a time for laughing. “I told you I didn’t want to talk, Zachary…” There was a slight shrug. “I didn’t ask if you did…” He moved inside, shutting the door. “And you would have locked the door if you didn’t want someone to check on you…” He was a tall, rather gangly sort, she mused…and far too likely to make sure she eventually spoke. He had strange powers.
She stood up, walking over towards the table once more, picking up the letter, and handing it over. Zachary read the letter, nodding quietly. It was wordlessly that he pulled her into his arms. She’d stiffened slightly, trying to avoid everything that was going through her mind. She couldn’t cry on people…She wasn’t against crying but this would not be a bit of tears and then the sudden feeling better, deal. This would be full out sobbing, snot and tears and everything. It wouldn’t be nice to get snot all over his shirt. The feeling of a hand rubbing her back was almost enough to make her relax. It was only when her mind supplied her with, ‘You’re all on your own now…’ that she finally broke, hands wrapping themselves up in the boy’s shirt as she wept for all she was worth, not even concerned about whether or not she was getting snot all over him. Not that he was terribly concerned. Everyone needed someone to be there when they’d just gotten bad news. Even if the news wasn’t…nearly as bad as this