(no subject)
Esme had taken advantage of it being near the end of the school year to just drop her responsibilities for a day. They had a valid excuse. Very few people questioned what you were doing when you were mourning a sister. She had taken the train into New York City, and now was wondering why she had as she sat on a bench in Central Park, looking out over the water.
The people were loud, and every thought hit her mind like a hammer, but it was still better than thinking. Esme played with the name bracelet on her left wrist. She had taken it from Sophie's room before they had gone back to school, it had belonged to her little sister. Sophie was engraved in nice pink letters on the metal plate and chain. It almost looked like a medical alert bracelet. Or you could read it as: caution, dead sister.
Esme's lips twisted then, it wasn't a smile but an attempt not to start screaming. She tried to turn her thoughts to other things, like some of the clothes she had bought using Dad's credit card. The wardrobe was changing to all one color quickly, black. But not the flowery goth clothes, just something darker.
Something different.
She could feel her sisters, though not on the level they had always been used to and now things were different between the remaining four as they struggled to fill in the dynamic lost by Sophie. Or find their own places.
There was no healing or recovery, Esme thought blandly. Just a dead sister and no one she could punish for it.
The people were loud, and every thought hit her mind like a hammer, but it was still better than thinking. Esme played with the name bracelet on her left wrist. She had taken it from Sophie's room before they had gone back to school, it had belonged to her little sister. Sophie was engraved in nice pink letters on the metal plate and chain. It almost looked like a medical alert bracelet. Or you could read it as: caution, dead sister.
Esme's lips twisted then, it wasn't a smile but an attempt not to start screaming. She tried to turn her thoughts to other things, like some of the clothes she had bought using Dad's credit card. The wardrobe was changing to all one color quickly, black. But not the flowery goth clothes, just something darker.
Something different.
She could feel her sisters, though not on the level they had always been used to and now things were different between the remaining four as they struggled to fill in the dynamic lost by Sophie. Or find their own places.
There was no healing or recovery, Esme thought blandly. Just a dead sister and no one she could punish for it.