XI: A Rare Bird

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"The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history." ― Oscar Wilde

~()~

With a pained groan, Bird opened and closed her left hand again cringing at the pain radiating from her wrist with the movement.

Now standing outside in the pouring rain, staring at her car which was off the road with a busted headlight against the tree she'd ran into –she realized trying to drive home during the worst of the storm was a foolish idea.

Pulling the hood of her jacket up, she crossed her arms over her chest and took to the sidewalk in an attempt to get home and call a tow truck for her car.

Normally her preferred method of moving around the city was on foot and cold days like the current one helped clear her head better than a hot shower; but every drop of rain felt like bullets grazing her skin through the thin fabric of her jacket.

She moved along the city's sidewalks lost more in her head than in her thoughts, her mind was relatively blank as she passed by the other walkers –rather envious of the ones with umbrellas. Even though it would have been a lost cause on her, every inch of her hair and clothing were utterly drenched.

Bird wasn't sure how long she'd been walking when she felt a tightness in her chest, slowing down she pressed a hand to her sternum and for a fleeting second wondered if it was a result of the accident she'd had –that was until her mind started to race and every emotion possible coursed through her veins.

She was scared that Oswald's plan would fail and they'd both be killed for it. She felt guilty for the things she'd said during the press conference and even worse for yelling at her brother who'd done nothing wrong. The ever present mixed feeling of rage and hopelessness sat in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down.

Somehow making her way to the closest bench, she sat down and struggled to pull in a deep breath of the much needed oxygen. Her normally carefully controlled world was spinning out of control, tilted on its axis from all the chaos around her and she was well aware of how chaos was something she didn't handle well. Rubbing the mixture of rain, flop sweat and tears from her face, she internally lectured herself for feeling anything –truth be told, any kind of emotion was something she could barely handle. It always seemed to be at one far end of the spectrum –anger turned to blind rage, sadness gave way to a deep, dark pit of hopelessness she sometimes thought she'd never claw her way back out of.

It was chaos in her mind, always one extreme or another if she didn't keep a tight check on what she was feeling and to keep in control she'd often not allow herself to feel much of anything. Maybe, she considered, maybe that was why when feelings and emotions did break through her barrier they shook her world in ways that left her feeling paralyzed both inside and out.

It was well over an hour later that Bird was still sitting in the same spot on the bench, starring straight in front of her as she fought a war inside of her head. The rain had since stopped, though she had no comprehension of the present time or her surroundings anymore –which is why she didn't hear her name being called several times. She was only brought back to the present when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and the person gently shaking her.

She rubbed her stinging eyes, blinking rapidly to clear her foggy vision before slowly turning her head and seeing who had stopped to check on her.

"Harvey?" She questioned, avoiding eye contact with the assistant district attorney and wondering how long he'd been there.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned, shaking his head as he added, "How long have you been out here... you're completely soaked."

"I..." she managed to choke out, "I don't know."

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