Things get damaged///Things get broken
A nightmare would've been better.
That was the phrase that kept repeating over and over in Cara's head like some sort of sickening pop song - Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter...
Because nightmares were to be expected. After everything that had happened with Analiese, after everything she'd seen, everything her own two hands had done, nightmares were the least of her problems, really.
So after she'd gotten ready for bed, soaking her clothes in the tub to get the blood and dirt out and making sure all of the reflective surfaces in her room were covered, she'd closed her eyes and prepared for the onslaught. The images of her dad choking on his own blood, of Ari wailing uncontrollably.
God, it was so much worse than that.
It was like that game that they used to play when they were little---creating lengthy scenarios of what they were going to be when they grew up, what their lives were going to be like. Ari's were always outrageous---like a skydiving policewoman, or a troll that guarded a bridge, but only on Tuesdays. Cara, of course, was practical, even at a young age; she knew she was going to follow in their parents' footsteps in some way. Well. She thought she knew. Thought she had everything planned out.
When Cara fell asleep, she dreamed of Ari, the woman she should've become. She still had that rebellious streak in her----she was some sort of performance artist, it seemed. Her husband had run up to congratulate her after her performance, their two children---both girls---looking like mini Ari's, but with longer hair. Ari never would get rid of that pixie cut.
And then suddenly, it was like Cara was no longer on the outside looking in. She was a part of the dream. Ari could see her, her imagined brother-in-law, her nieces, could see her. And they were all waving her over, excited to talk to her.
Cara had woken up in a cold sweat.
She was now walking the empty streets on the outskirts of the city, lost in her thoughts.
That was the phrase that kept repeating over and over in Cara's head like some sort of sickening pop song - Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter...
Because nightmares were to be expected. After everything that had happened with Analiese, after everything she'd seen, everything her own two hands had done, nightmares were the least of her problems, really.
So after she'd gotten ready for bed, soaking her clothes in the tub to get the blood and dirt out and making sure all of the reflective surfaces in her room were covered, she'd closed her eyes and prepared for the onslaught. The images of her dad choking on his own blood, of Ari wailing uncontrollably.
God, it was so much worse than that.
It was like that game that they used to play when they were little---creating lengthy scenarios of what they were going to be when they grew up, what their lives were going to be like. Ari's were always outrageous---like a skydiving policewoman, or a troll that guarded a bridge, but only on Tuesdays. Cara, of course, was practical, even at a young age; she knew she was going to follow in their parents' footsteps in some way. Well. She thought she knew. Thought she had everything planned out.
When Cara fell asleep, she dreamed of Ari, the woman she should've become. She still had that rebellious streak in her----she was some sort of performance artist, it seemed. Her husband had run up to congratulate her after her performance, their two children---both girls---looking like mini Ari's, but with longer hair. Ari never would get rid of that pixie cut.
And then suddenly, it was like Cara was no longer on the outside looking in. She was a part of the dream. Ari could see her, her imagined brother-in-law, her nieces, could see her. And they were all waving her over, excited to talk to her.
Cara had woken up in a cold sweat.
She was now walking the empty streets on the outskirts of the city, lost in her thoughts.