Cimorelli One Shots

three (pt. 4) REWRITTEN

400 WORDS:

"There used to be six of us, but we no longer have three."

. . .

She couldn't escape.

Not from herself, not from her family, not from her problems.

Even when she snuck out of the hospital, her issues followed her, lurking around every corner.

Newspapers scattered along the streets.

**** Cimorelli, age 21, convicted of the murder of her younger sister.

******** Cimorelli, age 14, stabbed to death by her own sister.

Even when she tried to sit by the lake to clear her head, it began to drizzle.

Reminding her of her old habits, of who she used to be, of the past.

When the rain would snuff out her match; when she was hopeless and lonely and desperate.

She would do anything to get back the life she used to live.

Sure, it wasn't perfect.

But it never is.

Sure, she had hated it.

But it was better then than now.

Sure, she was ignorant and childish and immature.

But she'd rather be all of that and more than be missing a piece of her.

When she had woken up in the hospital, after having a seizure in the courtroom, she was immediately flooded with guilt.

She had woken up, and her sister hadn't.

She could breathe, and her sister couldn't.

She was alive, and her sister wasn't.

What had she done to preserve her life?

Why did she have to kill her?

Why did life have to be so uncertain, so unpredictable?

She was taught that if a = b, you could replace a with b and vice versa.

She was taught that a negative number multiplied by a negative number was a positive number.

The boring classes she sat through, the lessons she was forced to take.

Teaching her useless formulas, making her write summaries of countless paragraphs, find the square root of infinity, and memorize the capitals of a million countries. 

What she wasn't taught?

To live, not just survive.

How to not give up.

How to not let things get the best of her.

How to find peace in the storm, find the eye of the hurricane.

Find the quiet, find the calm.

She didn't know to look at the stars when it was dark.

She didn't know that life was a complex sentence, one independent clause; one dependent.

She didn't know.

She lit the match.

And she didn't regret it.

Not one bit.

I find peace in the burn.

I wasn't too proud of the original, so hopefully, this one's a bit better :) and this chapter hurt to right aha, I actually enjoy attending school.

+ lol if you're interested in non-english music there's this song call oh my! by this band called seventeen and the lyrics are kind of generic when translated to english but it's my go-to comfort song because it sounds upbeat or something like that