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They aren't supposed to be seen. The letters. The very same ones that got written in the midst of her, now very common, mental break down. They sit there, on the coffee table, a constant reminder of her own mental instability. She can't even remember what is written on them. Perhaps it's a long stream of apologies. Apologies for lying, for failing, for being a disappointment. Maybe it's angry rambles, cursing each and every person who hurt her. She can imagine the letters containing nothing more than three simple words.
I hate you.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
The letters are still sitting there. It's been a week, and they haven't moved. She wishes to rip them open and satisfy her own curiosity. To read what is written on them and then to rid her home of them. But the idea of reading her own dark thoughts makes her stomach turn.
So now she stands over her trash can, closed letters in hand. The smell of rotting food, which has been sitting there for god knows how long, violates her nose. It makes the turning of her stomach increase and the urge to violently throw up grows stronger the longer she stands there. Yet she finds it extremely difficult to toss them, so instead she places them back to where they originally were, and the turning in her stomach ceases.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
They become her only source of entertainment. She stares at them and gets lost in thought for what could possibly be written. It changes constantly, depending on how she's currently feeling, but it makes her feel the slightest bit better. It was definitely helpful for the first few times. Imagining the letters to be filled with simple apologies. She'd give them out, to those who humiliated her, to those who she trusted . They'd forgive her and everything would go back to normal. Those are her favorite daydreams. Yet recently her dreams have been filled with nothing but curses, hate, and her impending death. Before she could get fully lost in her own mind her stomach rumbles.
She finally decided to eat that day, the pains in her stomach and head becoming too much to bear. Scouring her house all she's able to find is a box of macaroni. All sauces now reek of bitterness, and while before she'd be able to ignore it, the fuzziness that has begun to grow isn't all that appealing. While she waits for the water to boil she tosses the sauces into the freshly emptied trash can. It doesn't take long for her noodles to finish.
They're mushy, because somehow even after all the times she's made them she can never get the timing correct. As she mindlessly eats her food she watches her letters. She's only three bites in when the nausea returns. The headache is still there, and she knows her stomach will be demanding for more food if she's to toss this, but she can't bring herself to continue. Angrily sighing she throws away what's in the bowl. In a fit of rage she grabs the pot and tosses what is left knowing she won't be eating it anytime soon. Then the letters. Always the fucking letters. Blinded by her rage she grabs them and throws them on top. The noodles wet the paper. It should be enough. They are thrown away, and now ruined by her disaster of a meal. It should be enough, but it's not. Slamming her hand into the trash she continues to shove the letters down until they are completely submerged by macaroni. It's still not enough . Grabbing the trash she takes it out. It doesn't need to be, but she needs the letters out.
The minute she steps back into her house the rotting smell returns.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Somehow the letters were the only thing keeping her from absolutely falling apart. Here she sits, on the cold dusty floor in her dark living room. Curled up to make herself as small as possible. The thoughts plague her mind, attacking everything about her past, present, and future. A future she will never see if this continues.
The sun shines through her cheap curtains. Casting a ray of soft yellow on her face she looks around the room confused. She doesn't remember falling asleep. She's unsure if she even did. Her body doesn't feel rested, but she can't even remember the last time she felt rested. If she's ever felt that way. Body aching she gets up and stretches trying to ease the pain. It doesn't work. Why doesn't it work? Why doesn't anything work? The pain won't leave.
‘The letters.’ Her mind repeats like a mantra. Slapping her face she tries to snap her mind out if it, but like always it doesn't work. It's still early out. She can get the letters. She needs her letters.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It reeks. It's trash from everyone in the building and who knows how long it's been here. It's disgusting. She knows it. Sitting in the filth of everyone who lives in the building. Desperately digging through everything looking for the letters. In some sick twisted way she feels like she belongs. Surrounded by everything that is broken. By things that are rotting. Useless. Simply unwanted . It's fitting she'd find herself sitting here.
Dirt and mold begins coating her skin and clothes. Broken glass cuts her but she can't feel it. Her mind focuses on the letters. Nothing else matters. It doesn't matter that she's getting cuts up and down her legs and arms. It doesn't matter that they started bleeding. Or that her forearm is now covered in a thin coat of blood. Or that she's breathing in this contaminated air. Before, if she touched anything slimy, fuzzy, watery, she'd gag. She'd throw her hand out. Whine over how disgusting it was.
“Who left this here!?”
“Why is it watery!?”
“What did I touch!?”
An over dramatic reaction, but a real reaction. It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter she's now a walking biohazard. What does matter is finding those letters.
“Furina?”
‘No. Please no. Don't be her.’
A voice that she wouldn't never forget, no matter how she tried. Wide eyes she turns to the source. There stands Clorinde, looking the same as always. It brings her some comfort to know that the other woman hasn't vastly changed in their time apart. She looks the same, she sounds the same, and if Furina wasn't covered in mold, dirt, and blood she's sure her expression would be the same. That there wouldn't be a small frown on her face. That her eyes wouldn't be slightly wider than normal.
“Furina? What are you doing?”
‘Oh she wanted an answer.’ Letting out a shaky sigh she tries to answer.
Apparently the fact that she got caught digging through the trash like a feral animal was her breaking point, not the mold or smell, as she threw up over herself instead of answering.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
She is now aware of how sad and empty her apartment is. There's the coffee table that once held her letters, A sofa that she spends most of her time on, and that's it. Her room is bare except for her bags that contain some clothes she's yet to change into. A pillow and blanket laid out next to the pile of luggage for when she wanted a change of scenery. The bathroom contains a toothbrush that is hard and dry. Disgusting she knows, but does it really matter when she barely eats. There's a hair brush in there somewhere. She knows she owns one, but where it disappeared to she has no clue. Her single fork and bowl are left in the sink, the dirty pot still placed upon the stovetop.
“We should clean your cuts.”
Hearing Clorinde’s voice brings tears to her eyes. Knowing that the minute she opens her mouth a sob would be let out she decides to simply nod instead. Before she's able to sit on her sofa Clorinde gently grabs her arm, and leads her to sit on the floor. “Let's not get your sofa dirty.”
Her voice is soft and her moments slow and sharp. As if she's dealing with a wounded animal. Clorinde leaves her sitting on the floor alone as she makes her way around the apartment looking for a first aid kit. When she comes up empty handed she sits in front of Furina. Placing a hand on Furina's leg she begins speaking.
“Do you have anything to wrap your wounds?”
“I didn't see anything. You also have nothing in the bath.”
“Would you like me to get you some?”
It's so soft. So gentle. So kind. Something Furina doesn't deserve. Something she knows she doesn't deserve. But Furina is geedy. She's selfish and lonely, and she needs this. Nodding at the question she feels the warmth of the hand leave and she almost begs for her to come back. Just almost. Furina may be greedy and selfish but she isn't stupid.
“I'll be back soon.”
With that Furina is alone again.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
When the door opens again Furina is surprised. In walks Clorinde holding multiple bags with ease. She doesn't acknowledge Furina as she makes her way to the counter and begins emptying everything. There's things for her hair, body wash, lots of food, for some reason more silverware and plates, as well as toothpaste. Seeing that causes Furina to blush and look away. Deciding she's seen enough she stares at her curtains waiting for Clorinde to finish.
Hearing Clorinde place something down on the coffee table she turns to look. There's the first aid kit as well as a little figure. A Blubberbeast figure to be exact. It's small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and colorless, but cute nonetheless.
“The place needs some personality, and I know you like them.” Her head snaps to Clorinde who is not looking at her. Instead she's occupied opening the first aid kit to help Furina.
“It'll sting. You should bathe and change clothes. I'll wrap them afterwards.” It does sting. Each cut stings when Clorinde wipes them with the alcohol soaked towel. Afterwards she ushers Furina to the bath. Her hair is tangled, not yet matted but it'll definitely take some effort to get the knots out. Settling in the bath she notices the nausea has finally disappeared.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
She almost falls asleep till she hears a knock on the door.
“I made food.”
Despite not being hungry she knows she won't be able to get out of eating. Exiting the bathroom she leaves her puke covered clothes in the corner next to the toilet. All the lights are on in her house. She can hear bowls clanking together from the kitchen, as well as a drawer being opened and closed. When she walks out there there's two bowls of cream of mushroom soup on her coffee table. Sitting on the sofa Clorinde grabs a bowl and begins eating an obvious gesture for Furina to do the same.
“I'll bandage you once you finish eating. Is that okay?”
She nods.
“Your hair is tangled. Would…would you like me to help?”
And for the first time since seeing Clorinde, Furina speaks.
“Yes please….”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It's been three weeks since the letters and trash incident, and ever since then Clorinde has visited her everyday. Sometimes she'll stay for minutes, other times she's there for hours. Each time she comes with a book in hand for Furina. They eat dinner together when she's there for hours. Sometimes in silence, sometimes Clorinde tells her about current events, or Furina rambles about the book that was brought. It's comforting knowing that someone will be there. That she's on someone's mind waiting for her. Her home is now lively.
Today they are eating in silence. It's fine since Furina didn't particularly enjoy the newest book brought. She isn't expecting for Clorinde to drop a bomb on her.
“Let's go shopping together.”
“What?”
Sighing, Clorinde pushes her now empty plate away. She looks at Furina's, which still has more than half of her food left on it. She suddenly becomes aware of how little she's still eating even with Clorinde there. She can feel the other woman's eyes on here and she is quickly becoming uncomfortable in her own skin.
“I wanted to let you suggest it on your own terms, but I can't let this continue. You need a dining table, you need more than just a sofa and coffee table, you need a bed Furina.” Wincing at the emphasis on “bed” Furina begins pushing her food around.
“I like it here. It….homey”
“It's empty. It's cold. You don't deserve this.”
Knowing she isn't getting out of this Furina has no choice but to agree.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It's loud, it's hot, it's busy, and Furina is fighting the urge to grab onto Clorinde's hand and not let go. She can't help but feel like everyone is staring at her. Judging and whispering cruel remarks about her. She knows no one will try and hurt her as long as she has Clorinde by her side, but the fear is still there.
She got a bed, courtesy of Chlorine, and it should be delivered to her apartment. They got some more food, and Furina even got a cute little hat.
“Ta-da! Doesn't the white do wonders for my eyes?”
“You should get the scarf too then.”
“Hmm, maybe in winter. We can do some winter shopping! Uh, if that's okay….with….you?”
“A scarf and a nice coat.”
Furina smiles to herself at the new memory. She waits to the side as Clorinde enters a shop to pick up something she ordered a few weeks ago that was finally finished. She watches as three little children play hide and seek, messing with some vendors as they do. She almost relaxes till she hears someone call out to her.
“Lady Furina! Can I speak to you?”
It's Charlotte, and while a sweet girl Furina just isn't sure she can be around her. Since the incident she's been harassing Furina for an interview. When she first moved into the apartment the girl was out there everyday with a notebook and pen in hand. Questions were asked through the door as Furina just silently sat hoping, praying for the girl to just leave. After a week it seemed the girl took the hint as she apologized and wasn't heard from again. Due to the letters and Clorinde, Furina completely forgot about her.
Apparently the girl still wishes for an interview though as she quickly makes her way over pulling out a notebook and pen from her bag. “If you have time I'd love for an interview! Please, it will be quick!”
“Uh I'm not exactly-”
“Please I won't be long!”
“Charlotte I'm not sure-”
“How have you been since the exposure? It's been a while since you have been seen in public. Is there any reason for it? Please answer honestly! The people wanna know the real you now!”
Her chest tightens. The bags she's holding slip from her grasp as her hands begin to shake. All the sound combines as it all becomes too much. Her breathing becomes rapid and eyes unfocused. She doesn't notice the panicked look on Charlotte's face. She doesn't notice her knees giving out as she collapses struggling for air. She doesn't feel Charlotte’s hands grabbing her own as she tries to calm the panicking woman.
The holding of her hands from Charlotte, the petting of her hair from Clorinde, who came rushing when she heard a commotion all goes unnoticed. She's unable to focus on anything until something cold touches her face.
“What are you doing?”
“The cold might help her! At least I hope so. Clorinde I'm sorry I didn't mean to-”
“Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one panicking.”
“I don't know what I said….”
Still struggling to calm down, Furina tries thinking. What did Charlotte say exactly that caused her to panic so intensely? It's fair that people wish for her to be honest. To know where she disappeared to. To wanna…oh.
“I don't know the real me.” It's quiet. Despite catching the others' attention they are unable to hear her.
“What was that?”
“I don't know the real me.”
The look the two share goes unnoticed by Furina.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
They don't talk about it, her and Clorinde. Charlotte apologizes once more before leaving the two. The walk home is quiet. Dinner is quiet. Neither speaking about the obvious problem. Furina isn't worried. Clorinde will be back tomorrow and everything will be okay. It's after dinner when Clorinde speaks. “I won't be able to visit for a while. I have something to do.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“...I can't tell you.” Right. She can't tell Furina. Because Furina is just a civilian. She's no longer an archon. She doesn't get to know.
Furina is a little worried.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It didn't take long for things to go to shit again. For three days after Clorinde stopped visiting Furina was able to eat and bathe. While to most this is the bare minimum a person could do she was extremely proud of herself. It's been so long since she thought of the letters. She didn't need to. She was improving. Until she wasn't.
It was random. In the middle of her meal when all of a sudden it became too much. The texture was uncomfortable, it tasted and smelt disgusting, it looked unappetizing. Then the feeling came back. She was nauseous. Her stomach twisted in pain and she had to swallow the vomit that was slowly making its way up. She can't believe how fast she fell.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Five days. It took five days for Furina to fully break again. She lays there, middle of the night city life dead as everyone is resting peacefully in bed, thinking about what would happen if she just left. No one would know. She could walk out right now. Walk out of the city and get close enough to antagonize some Meka and hope it puts her out of her misery. Go pick a fight with the Fatui out there with nothing but a stick. Walk into the water and pick a fight with the very hostile aquatic life. Maybe she can keep walking, and walking, and walking, till there's no more land for her to walk on and she falls. It wouldn't be hard. She knows her shoes are thrown lazily next to the front door, having been untouched since that day with Charlotte.
She turns to lay on her side and looks at the new hat she has yet to wear. Sighing she slowly gets up, dragging her blanket behind her, and makes her way to the living room. There on the coffee table is just her figure that Clorinde bought her. Her shoes exactly where she thought they'd be. But something is missing.
‘The letters. How can you go if they don't know why? What they did. It would be incomplete without them.’
Usually Furina ignores the voice. It was easier with Clorinde there, and if she wasn't there a simple slap to the face would help. She can't though. It's too loud. It makes too much sense. How can she disappear without explaining why? She will not be a ghost story to be forgotten. She needs them to know what they did. To know why she did it.
She doesn't know how she got here. Surrounded by paper writing the letters again. But they are wrong. They aren't the same as before, but what was in the one's before? She can't remember.
“I'm mad. How could you? How could you humiliate? How could you not care to help afterwards? How could you-” She lets out a shaky breath. Angrily grabbing the paper she rips it up. She continues to rip until she physically can't anymore.
“I never meant to lie. I had to protect everyone. I had a job to do. It was my purpose. Please don't hate me for it….” But that isn't it. Sighing, she angrily scribbles on the paper. The words are now unreadable and it rips. It doesn't matter though as she continues to scribble.
“Useless….useless….useless!!!” Screaming out in frustration she pushes her coffee table over. Paper gets everywhere and in the chaos she forgot about the figure. Panting heavily, her eyes focus on the now broken figure.
“No! Oh god no! Furina you idiot.” Fumbling with her shaking hands she kneels next to it. Picking up the pieces she tries putting it together again. Sobbing heavily she holds the pieces to her chest. It's getting hard to breathe and she's certain her face is red at this point. Laying down and curling up in a fetal position she begins to pants. Snot is running down her nose making it difficult to breathe. It violates her mouth as she keeps gasping for air and she can't stop herself from gagging. She continues to struggle to breathe, gasping for air as she tastes the clear foul tasting mucus entering her mouth. Knowing what's to come she tries to stand. She's unsuccessful as she gets into a sitting position, using her arms to support herself, and throws up. It burns her throat as she pukes up nothing but stomach acid. Her nose burns as the vomit smell begins to fill the living room. Arms giving out she falls into the puddle of vomit. Continuing to cry, her vision go black as she passes out.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Waking up she's calm. Her body is relaxed. She knows what she wants to say.
She writes the letters.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It's been three days since her break down and Furina hasn't felt calmer. Unlike the first time she remembers what she said in the letters and who she wrote too. They sit neatly on her coffee table next to the broken Blubberbeast figure. Having the letters puts her at ease. Even the thought of Clorinde showing up unannounced and seeing them doesn't make her panic.
She stares at them, drinking some tea, imagining what would happen when she's to disappear and sends them out. She imagines tears, ugly sobbing, them comforting each other, telling themselves there was nothing they could have done. She imagines the funeral. Sometimes she imagines her body there. Laid out beautiful in a casket. Being the star of the show once more, but this time on her own terms. It's during these daydreams that she imagines Clorinde coming in and finding her. How she's unsure. She wishes for it to be beautiful so maybe in the middle of her room, wearing her new hat, hanging there as decor. Perhaps her blood painting the white tiles of her bathroom floor. Maybe in the bath where the water can dilute her blood and turn it a lovely shade of pink.
Other times she imagines a funeral absent of a body. It's these daydreams where she imagines she disappears into the wild. Whatever happened to her remains unknown, but her memory forever haunts those who received a letter. Those at her funeral.
She snaps out of her thoughts when there's a knock on the door. She's greeted with the sight of Clorinde. “I would like to take you to meet some friends of mine.”
“Friend?”
“Yes…in a way.”
“Give me a moment to brush my teeth and bathe.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It's awkward. Furina has never actually spoken to Wriothesley. She barely even remembers his trail. Mind too occupied with something else at the time. She feels a little bad that just like then her mind is too occupied to fully pay attention to what he's saying now.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Furina isn't necessarily a morning person. Since Clorinde hasn't been visiting as often she stopped waking early. She stays up late drinking tea, looking at her letters, wondering what could be. Then she sleeps till late afternoon and repeats the process. So when they're a loud knock on the door she can't help but feel a little annoyed.
“Wonder how they'll feel being stabbed with a fork so early.”
Opening the door she's greeted with the sight of Clorinde and Wriothesley. Clorinde is holding a bag with food in it. She assumes it for this morning's breakfast. Wriothesley is holding a bag as well, of what she does not know. Not bothering to wait for Furina to let them in, Clorinde pushes past and makes her way into the kitchen. Wriothesley on the other hand waits.
“Uh….come in?”
Closing the door she turns her attention to the bag in his hand.
“Some tea for our meal. I know you like it so I only brought the best.”
She makes a mental note to write another letter when they leave.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Every other day Wriothesley and Clorinde will join her for a meal. Neither have noticed the stack of letters on her table, or if they have they don't mention it. Placing her tea on the table she leans back on the sofa and sighs. She can only imagine so many scenarios before it starts to get boring. She needs something to talk to.
She hasn't left the house on her own yet since Clorinde has been providing her with food and other necessities. It was bound to happen eventually she tells herself as she slips on her shoes and makes her way out.
No one pays attention to her which causes her to feel safe. She's not exactly sure what she's looking for. Art supplies? More books? A puzzle? It's only when she passes by a pet shop she gets an idea.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
An hour later Furina is struggling to walk out with a new baby crab and everything needed to take care of her. She questioned the poor salesman nonstop to know exactly how to take care of it. She's satisfied, convinced nothing can bring her down. While walking back home she sees someone. Someone she wishes she wouldn't see. She sees Neuvillette.
He's talking to a guard so definitely out on business. She hopes to leave before he notices her. Luck appears to not be on her side today as she makes eye contact with him. Shock is apparent on his face. She's unsure why she does it, but Furina finds herself smiling a little and waving the best she can.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Mademoiselle Crabaletta. A fancy name for a fancy crab. The aquarium is very roomy for a singular crab, and Furina did not skimp out on the decorations for the baby crab. She'll have to thank Clorinde for the money and hopefully the woman will love the crab. She walks around the aquarium looking at all the items. Furina tells herself that the coffee table is the best spot for the tank. There's no more room for her to place her tea, but her two sources of entertainment are on it, and to her that's all that matters. The crab stops by the end of the tank closest to the letters. To Furina it looks as if Mademoiselle Crabaletta is staring at them. Questioning what they are.
“They are letters! For my…for people I know. Are you interested in them?”
She blinks so Furina takes that as a yes.
“Okay I can recite these ones from memory. First is Clorinde, ‘Dear Clorinde,.....’”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
By the time she finishes reciting the letter to the baby crab it's dark out. She can feel her stomach grumble but isn't in any hurry to stop it. She lays on the sofa and closes her eyes trying to fall asleep. Her rest is interrupted when there's a knock on the door.
“That's weird Mademoiselle Crabaletta, no one should be coming over today.”
Opening the door she is greeted by the sight of Neuvillette. Neither say anything as they stand staring at each other.
“I apologize for intruding. I didn't realize you'd have someone over.”
“Someone over? Oh no, uh I was, that was….I got a crab.” It sounds childish. It feels childish. Despite that she can't stop the next words from coming out of her mouth.
“Would you like to see her?”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
It's awkward having him in her home. She watches him sit on the sofa, in front of the letters. He pays no mind to them as he watches Mademoiselle Crabaletta mess with the decorations. She stands awkwardly to the side of the coffee table messing with the hem of her shirt. When he reaches out towards the letters her heart speeds up. She’s unsure how to answer if questioned. Neither Clorinde or Wriothesley have asked yet. Her fears turn out to be useless as he reaches over the letters and grabs the broken figure.
“What a cute figure. It's a shame it's broken.”
She hums, eyes flickering between him and the letters.
“Furina?”
“Yes?”
“I'm sorry.”
Embarrassingly enough those two words were all she needed to let out a loud ugly sob.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
She hasn't thought about them. The letters. They sit there ignored by everyone who visits her. Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Clorinde all come and visit a decent amount, she knows they've seen them, and yet they never ask. Even Charlotte came once, to bring sweets and apologize again for that embarrassing day, and they were also ignored by the nosey reporter. She's unsure how to feel about it. On one hand she's glad they are respecting her privacy, but on the other hand it feels odd. What they are seems very obvious. Yet no one cares to ask or question it.
‘It's okay.’ She tells herself every night. ‘ If they were to know, you wouldn't be left alone. You wouldn't be able to disappear.’
She reminds herself that this is what she wants.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
‘I don't need them.’
It's the new mantra that she's forcing through her head. While the letters are still there, as a safety net, she doesn't want them to be. She doesn't want them anymore.
It's an improvement she tells herself. She's getting better, she says when looking in the mirror. Sometimes, if the thoughts start coming back, she pretends Mademoiselle Crabaletta is telling her that she doesn't need the letters. Because she's getting better.
And if no one else is acknowledging those letters then why should she?
Her sleep schedule is being fixed. She's eating more. She's proud of herself. She knows that the others are all well.
‘I don't need them.’ Is the new mantra in her head, and she's planning on throwing in a, ‘It'll be okay,’ as well.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
She wakes up feeling unsafe. She doesn't know why exactly but her mind keeps screaming she's in danger. She wakes up, feeds Mademoiselle Crabaletta and then searches her apartment for an intruder. Coming up empty handed she makes her tea and watches her crab play. Her letters are still there and she tells herself that that's why. That as long as those letters are still in her life she'll always feel unsafe.
The feeling of danger won't leave but she promised to meet Clorinde for coffee today. She promised she'd be able to leave on her own. As she finishes her tea to get ready she makes another promise. To herself this time, that she'll get rid of those letters.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
“Furina is everything okay?”
“What?” Her eyes focus again on the people in front of her. Unbeknownst to her, Clorinde invited Wriothesley, who then invited Neuvillette. Who for some reason was about to make it. All three of her…all three of them stare at her waiting for an answer.
“Oh yes! I woke up five minutes before leaving, so I'm still a little tired.” She laughs awkwardly and she knows the bags under her eyes will help sell the story.
She fooled them once she could do it again.
‘Just one more time.’ She tells herself sipping her tea and she sneakily tries taking a piece of Neuvillette cake to help with the act.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
She's exhausted by the time she returns home. Her exhaustion doesn't stop her from noticing that her door is cracked open. Her breath gets caught in her throat as she slowly pushes the door open. Her bedroom light is on, illuminating the hallway and a bit of the living room. It's enough for her to see the aquarium pushed down on the floor. Glass and water all over the place.
“Mademoiselle Crabaletta!”
Turning the light on she rushes over, dropping down to her knees not caring about her own safety. Seeing her baby crab she lets out a shrill cry. It's crushed. As if someone used something to slam into it. Sobbing loudly she rocks back and forth, the glass digging into her knee. Blood begins to mix with the water that is underneath her.
She's terrified.
Her bedroom light is on and she knows someone could be in there. Waiting for her to enter. To kill her. She gets up wincing as she does so and limps to her bedroom. It's trashed, yet no one is in there. Instead written across the wall is one word.
Liar.
Of course people hate her. She lied. Fontaine still flooded. How many people were injured? How many people died? Why wouldn't they hate that liar who caused it all?
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It's been four days since the break in and she hasn't slept. She's really glad everyone got busy with work. She isn't sure what they'd do if they came over unannounced. The word is still on the wall, a constant reminder she refuses to forget. Mademoiselle Crabaletta has been buried in a flower pot that the lady next door was kind enough to give her. The glass is still on the floor though. Another reminder she deems needed. Of course the letters are still there. To think that she almost got rid of them. How foolish of her to think that they weren't going to be needed. She sits on the sofa staring at the coffee table. Her hat is placed upon it to the left. Her shoes on the right, with those damned letters in the middle. She waits for night to fall.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
It's dark out. She's sure the streets are dead.
Leaving her house she's attacked with a gust of wind. It's cold out, but the night sky looks beautiful. Looking around she sees the streets are empty.
Making her way out of the city she whispers one thing to herself.
“I hope the letters are enough.”