"HOW NICE OF YOU TO JOIN ME, NATALIA.."
"IT'S ACTUALLY NATASHA, BUT, CLOSE ENOUGH.."
"WHATEVER DUMBASS.."
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loss
noun
plural noun: losses
1. the fact or process of losing something or someone.
"Losing someone you love, it doesn't ever go a...
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"OR ANYONE BUT YOURSELF..."
---¤☆¤---
Locking the door behind her, she hears the satisfying click of the lock, she was finally alone. Leaning against the door, her eyes shutting tightly, her body aching. Slowly sinking to the floor, she tucks her knees into her chest, her back pressing against the splintering wood. Taking a deep breath, she knew that she couldn't hide here forever, she'd eventually have to go back. But, not yet. She wasn't ready yet.
Dragging a hand down her face, she wished that she could push everything out. That somehow she could just push out all the drama⎯push out how she truly felt without the struggle. But, if she did, people's feelings would be hurt. They'd turn it on her, making her the bad guy for speaking up. Opening her eyes, she forced down the tears, she wasn't going to cry anymore, crying didn't change anything.
"Get over it." She mumbles, "Stop being such a baby."
"And if you don't love me now, you will never love me again..I can still hear you saying, you would never break the chain.."
"What the..?" She whispers.
"Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night..Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies..Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light..:
Swallowing the thickening lump in her throat, the quiet tune of Fleetwood Mac fills the tiny room, ringing a sense of calm. The song brings a tiny smile to her face, before realization sets in. She hadn't left her radio playing. She had turned it off. Her hand reaches for her pocket knife, her mind screaming at her for not noticing sooner. Scanning the room, a few candles were lit, but the shadows still lurked.
Slowly rising to her feet, she takes careful steps, avoiding the creaky floorboards on purpose. Nobody knew about this place. She purposely hid it behind walls of ivy. Who was in here? Spotting someone in the corner, she flicks her pocket knife open, the Celestial Bronze glowing in the candle light. Opening her mouth to bark out an order, the figure turns around, lowering their hood. It was him.
"Hello there, Nattie." The figure hums, "We need to talk."
"Leave me alone, Walter. Or else." She sneers.
"Threatening me now?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"Seriously, leave me alone. I don't want to hear any of your bullshit excuses or lectures. I said what I said, if you don't like it go complain to Daddy about it." She argues, throwing her pocket knife.
"You can't scare me away, Natasha. I'm staying, and we are talking." He grits his teeth.
The knife embeds into the wood, leaving another mark on the splintering wood. He lets out a dramatic scoff, like she had stabbed him or offended him by the action. She lets out a grunt at the sound, she turns around, going back to her original spot. The floor creaks and groans under her, eyes staring at the planks, picking the right ones to step on. The room was ancient, wood at least a century old and the walls stripped of paint. She didn't want to risk falling through the plank.
