thepainted_lady: (Lost without you)
[personal profile] thepainted_lady
"Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color." ~ W.S. Merwin

The pressing panic that had caught in her throat the day she had arrived here, ripped away from her family, away from her home, away from everything she'd known was back. She'd gone to work through the week only because at least it was at least something familiar, but as nice as Sarah was, she wasn't family, wasn't someone she could cling to, and Puck had a girlfriend now, and, anyway, she could hardly use him that way. As nice as their night had been, he was a seventeen year old boy, not someone she should find herself depending on. It wasn't fair to him.

The dance had been...lovely, but what she found on waking up the next morning...had not been. Since then, life had been a fog, and no matter how hard she tried to pierce it, she couldn't seem to get through. Just because he'd bid on her, wanted to see her, even just because he was from her world was no reason to rely on Noah Bennet. Back home he had...hunted them. He'd been the enemy for a long time. He was a...friend now, and she wasn't afraid of him anymore, but that didn't mean he wanted to be burdened with her problems. The rest of them were just acquaintances, really.

Samuel was gone.

Edgar hadn't spoken to her since...she'd made a fool of herself.

And now Amanda was gone, too.

She was alone, and she couldn't breathe with the force of it. For all she might keep a wall of privacy around her, a distance even from her loved ones, they were there. She could feel them, have their touch, reach out. She was a part of something, an organic, moving, feeling something. A family, a home, a life.

And they were gone. They weren't here. The only piece that was--she was as distant from as if he were gone, too.

Amanda was gone. The one thing she'd been holding on to since Samuel left. Her daughter. The child she'd already lost once, through her own misguided sense of trying to do the right thing. And now she'd lost her again. Telling herself she'd just gone home, that she'd be at the carnival waiting whenever Lydia went home didn't help at all, because for now she was alone, and she didn't know how to do that anymore.

It was her day off, and she couldn't stand being in the room, the cold, silent room, all alone. So she'd come to the park, wishing the warmth had lingered from earlier in the week, but wrapped up in a sweater and long skirt. She'd brought the kitten--now a grown cat--Edgar had gotten her back when things were still good with them along with her on a leash, and he was pouncing on bits of dead leaves while she sat with her knees tucked up to her chest on the bench, watching the ducks.

She wanted to go home. She wanted Samuel. She wanted Edgar to be there like he'd always been. She wanted her daughter back. She wanted this aching, lonely, ripping sense of emptiness to go away. But she'd learned a long time ago that life wasn't fair.

She really wanted a drink, but she'd forgotten to get anything and wasn't yet inclined to move. Maybe in a bit. But drinking alone was just a reminder of everything else, and that would just be even more pathetic. So maybe not. Maybe if she just sat her long enough, watching the cat and the ducks, somehow life would make sense again. She doubted it, but she wasn't sure what else to do, so she was going to give it a shot.


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October 2011

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