Fan Fiction

Culmination: Completed.

by heartsong

Chapter 12

Grief.

Hemmed in by emptiness, a million ways that everything could be undone.

---

Ella felt raw. There was an emotional heat swimming within her; through the ache in her belly and the hollow under her heart.

She pressed her forehead against the window, sighing deeply so that her breath fogged the glass for a moment.

Then the mist cleared and she was staring, once again, into the dark emptiness of night.

She couldn’t sleep; it had been this way ever since she set foot in France.

Struck by a sudden sense of desperation, she got off the window seat and opened her closet, pulling out a box of memories she thought she would be leaving behind.

As she settled herself back onto the leather seat, se pulled open the covers and stared into the box.

Chun. And herself. They were smiling like the world would never end, and as if this would last forever.

Ella started to cry. One tear slid down the curve of her face, then another.

And then she couldn’t stop. She sobbed helplessly into the tops of her knees; her tears dappling the material will darker shades of its base colour.

“I miss you,” she sobbed, covering her mouth with her palm so that Hebe would not realise she was crying in the dead of the night – over something that would never come to be.

---

Despair was the way the stars did not shine in France; it was the way I traced the sharp edges of the photo and read them as goodbyes.

Despair was the way I had breathed Chun’s name when I first called him, not knowing at that point that I would also be whispering to him the torn, irreparable edges of a farewell.

Despair showed up in all my words, laced through with the black hurt of selfishness.

Despair could account for the way I was sitting by the window, sleepless, apathetic.

I did not know if there truly was a physical numbness, or if the emotional side of me had spilled over, occupying the spaces in my skin where I used to feel.

And then as I stared out at the tree in our backyard, a flash of lightning hit it. I heard the high scream of a stray cat and saw in dart away into the shed.

How could something that was protecting you turn its back and harm you only a moment later?

I knew the answer, and it was one I desperately pushed away – into the dim recesses of my mind.

I refused to let the thought take root.

I cried for a lost love that would never come to fruition; for lost emotions that slipped seamlessly through my bloodstream, like a drug that would dull my senses and lull me to sleep.

I curled up on the cool leather that soon heated to my skin, and I cried until I could feel my tears form a small pool around the side of my face.

I had not told anyone that I was not going home for the wedding.

Home.

Could I even call it home, now, when the place I felt most comfortable was so far away?

No, it was no longer my home.

It was the place where the ones I came to love had hurt me. Whether they did it intentionally or unintentionally; it no longer mattered.

---

Grief is a powerful emotion. It corrodes you, swallows you whole. It eats you up into darkness until nothing else in the world matters. It consumes you and makes you regret, makes you hate.

Grief makes the world dim. Grief shines a spotlight on you so that you can no longer think for anyone else.

It makes you selfish, it makes you hurt others.

When you grieve, you see the world through veiled eyes; through a mist that does not truly clear enough for you to remember much.

And when you are through with all that, you start to regret – and grieve.

And the whole cycle will repeat itself.

Grief is a circle there is no way out of. Grief swallows light, and caps its shell so tight that you do not see light again – unless you try hard enough.

Or unless you are willing to ask another party for help.

But so often, grief consumes you – so that you will not want help.

When you look back, you will not remember what it once felt like to grieve.

That is why you do not recognize it, when it creeps up upon you.

---

Hebe threw open the door to my bedroom and came in holding the phone bills.

I stared listlessly at her, my back against the window.

I had known, sooner or later, that it would come to this.

“You called home, didn’t you?” she hissed – but I could hear the concern and worry laced through her harsh tone.

That was why I leaned further back against the window, and let myself come undone.

Hebe’s expression softened, and she walked over.

“Ella, you know why I forbid this,”

I nodded and sobbed quietly into the shoulder she offered me. I watched my tears dapple her shirt shoulder and a fresh wave of tears overcame me.

“I had to hear his voice, Hebe.”

“Whose, Ella? Chun’s, or you father’s?”

I felt sleep and regret wash over me, tidal waves of agony.

“I don’t know, Hebe,” I murmured, my eyes beginning to close as I leaned back against the cool glass of the window that kept me from death, “I don’t know.”

I had no vices left. I couldn’t say I had any to begin with.

From the very start, the only vice I had was withdrawing into myself – so slowly, like the growth of a child into an adult.

It was a move that one would not notice until it was too late to stop it from happening.

That was why no one had bothered to save me from myself.

---

I watched as the scene unfolded before me.

I was standing before the tallest oak in history, watching the leaves swirl around me in all the colours of autumn.

I smiled and looked up – and then a scream ripped through my throat, its impact shaking my entire frame.

My knees knocked against each other and my eyes started to water as I backed away slowly.

How he had gotten up there, I didn’t know.

But his body dangled from the branch, a maple leaf falling; a snowflake floating – a breath, stilled by shock.

I breathed in and started to run, but I could go nowhere. I was trapped in this same place, and fear held me relentlessly in its vice-like grip.

I screamed myself hoarse, and then it was black.

---

I woke up with a start, my fingers white against the dark sheets; my sweat cold on my forehead.

I was breathing deeply, my eyes dilated and glazed.

It was bright outside, which probably meant it was early afternoon.

I breathed in deeply. What had that dream meant?

That if I did not surrender, I would not escape from this nightmare?

I buried my face in my hands and cried again, helpless.

For the first time in my life, I was truly, honestly bare. I had nothing to gamble, and I had nothing to save myself.

I was stripped down to the core of my humanity, and I had no more tricks to play; no cards up my sleeve.

I was alone.

For the first time in years, I wanted to see my father. I wanted to have him hold me like he did when I was young, and comfort me. I wanted reassurance.

I wanted it so badly, yet it could only come from my father.

The depth of my desperation was so great that it made me come to a standstill.

I was at the crossroads that I could not avoid.

And I decided: I would go to the wedding.

---

Since the night before, I had started to think of myself as a branch, whittled to perfection; shaped to the epitome of beautiful. This was so thoroughly done that in some places, the air in the atmosphere whipped around the raw edges of my soul.

Or, in plain words: this façade had stripped me of any protection I had to begin with.

I had to go home.

This time I was sure of it.

That was why I picked up the phone and dialed Chun’s number.

“Hello?” he answered, his voice thick with the haze of sleep.

“Chun,” I stated firmly, and took a deep breath – just for measure, “I’m coming home soon.”

“That’s great!” he sounded so excited, and genuinely happy.

I smiled, despite myself. And then just like before, I let the phone rest in its cradle so that he would not realise I had hung up until silence filled the spaces I had left behind.

I kept doing this, because this way I would not have to tell others it was me, who got left behind. I did this, so that I could tell myself that it was I who chose to leave.

---

A/N:I keep feeling somehow like all my chapters right now have no emotion in them. I just don't feel it when I proof read them. Like, I've lost my touch somehow. Or whatever skill that I used to have.

It just lacks that emotion, and it's freaking me out because I really do love writing. I just don't get the feel that I used to get anymore. I'm not satisfied with my chapters no matter how much I edit them.

On top of that I feel horrible. I feel like a lousy CE fan. Like There are so many better fans than me and I'm just. I don't know.

I feel disgusted with myself. LOL. Anyways I hope this chapter was satisfactory.(: I love you all.

Love, Heartsong.