There were times, she thinks, when perhaps she was happy. She's not quite sure when, but there must have been, she tells herself.
Before the fire--? Before the flames and the burning and the scarring, before they murmured promises into her ear and shoved a slug in afterwards? (Her mother always said not to have dessert before dinner. Taylor rarely listened.)
She will have to go farther back, she decides. It's so hard to remember, because when she tries, a wall of flame rises in her mind, flickering and hissing and--
It's hard to remember, but she thinks she may have been happy once, before-- Before she knew what beauty was, before she hit puberty and started turning heads and other bits. Before, when a grown-up would tell her she was such a cute little girl, and Taylor would smile sweetly and say thank you, because her mother always told her to -- and then she would skip off to play in the grass, and smear dirt over her cheeks instead of makeup.
She can't quite remember, but she thinks maybe she was happy, then.
Oh, that's lovely. Thank you for this; you managed to make her vulnerable, but the fic still kept that quality of... I don't know, unpredictability that is so integral to post-Yeerk Taylor.
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
-Pink Floyd, "Brain Damage"
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Before the fire--? Before the flames and the burning and the scarring, before they murmured promises into her ear and shoved a slug in afterwards? (Her mother always said not to have dessert before dinner. Taylor rarely listened.)
She will have to go farther back, she decides. It's so hard to remember, because when she tries, a wall of flame rises in her mind, flickering and hissing and--
It's hard to remember, but she thinks she may have been happy once, before-- Before she knew what beauty was, before she hit puberty and started turning heads and other bits. Before, when a grown-up would tell her she was such a cute little girl, and Taylor would smile sweetly and say thank you, because her mother always told her to -- and then she would skip off to play in the grass, and smear dirt over her cheeks instead of makeup.
She can't quite remember, but she thinks maybe she was happy, then.
Reply
Oh, that's lovely. Thank you for this; you managed to make her vulnerable, but the fic still kept that quality of... I don't know, unpredictability that is so integral to post-Yeerk Taylor.
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