release
*Rosie closed the door to her bedroom, resting her forhead against it a moment before locking it. A slight flick of a finger turns on her stereo.*
I'm so glad Harleen's back and I can take a day off. I don't think anyone could survive my running the place much longer...
*She moves to the mirror over her dresser, pulling the pins out of her hair and letting it tumble loose around her shoulders.*
It all hurts so much. To be told I frighten someone. To be so responsible for someone else. To have to suddenly be the responsible adult. This isn't the life I wanted.
I'm such a freak.
*She leans closer to the mirror, taking a fistful of hair in her hand.*
I frighten someone. Maybe the council was right. Maybe I should go back. I wouldn't frighten anyone back there. I wouldn't be anything special or noticed.
*She releases her hair and turns her back on the mirror.*
Better than being frightening.
*She crosses the room and opens the large picture window, perching on the sill and bracing herself with one bare foot, dangling the other outside. Resting her chin on her knee, she watches the slow swaying of the trees in the back yard, listens to the windchimes hung nearby, and let herself have a good cry.*
I'm so glad Harleen's back and I can take a day off. I don't think anyone could survive my running the place much longer...
*She moves to the mirror over her dresser, pulling the pins out of her hair and letting it tumble loose around her shoulders.*
It all hurts so much. To be told I frighten someone. To be so responsible for someone else. To have to suddenly be the responsible adult. This isn't the life I wanted.
I'm such a freak.
*She leans closer to the mirror, taking a fistful of hair in her hand.*
I frighten someone. Maybe the council was right. Maybe I should go back. I wouldn't frighten anyone back there. I wouldn't be anything special or noticed.
*She releases her hair and turns her back on the mirror.*
Better than being frightening.
*She crosses the room and opens the large picture window, perching on the sill and bracing herself with one bare foot, dangling the other outside. Resting her chin on her knee, she watches the slow swaying of the trees in the back yard, listens to the windchimes hung nearby, and let herself have a good cry.*