Cimorelli One Shots

first

When she looked in the mirror, there she was.

When she went to bed, she was there, sitting on the unmaid bed on the other side of the room.

When she cried in secret at midnight, she was there comforting her because no one else would.

When she drove to school each morning, she was in the passenger seat, laughing with her and blasting the radio.

When she was bored in school, she was there, making silly faces behind the teacher's back.

When she practiced her singing, she was there, saying she was great.

When she visited the grave, she was there, six feet underground, but her presence in the air.

But she wasn't really there.

She was dead.

And there was nothing Dani could do about it.

She grieved and grieved.

Life is a roller coaster, with all its ups and downs, but it seemed like her life had gotten stuck in the middle of a loopity-loop.

Hanging upside down in midair, holding on by meager seatbelts.

You see, without Lauren, Dani's reason for existence was gone.

Without Lauren, the light had been turned off and the light switch had disappeared from the room.

Without Lauren, she was a dull pencil. 

A shard of glass.

A torn piece.

Incomplete.

Not whole.

Without Lauren, there wasn't Dauren.

Without Lauren, there wasn't sugar and spice and everything nice.

Without Lauren, life had lost its meaning.

There was no one left to point Dani to all the open doors.

There was no one left to comfort her.

There was no one to go to for nightmares.

There was no one to complain to; to cry to.

There was no one that could replace her; could do all the things Lauren had done for Dani.

Without Lauren, Dani felt like flickering lightbulb. 

It still lit up, but its light barely filled up a whole room.

She felt like she had climbed up a million stairs only to fall down an inch from the top and didn't have the strength to start again.

She felt like a door without hinges.

An empty space.

Blank.

Emotionless.

Dark.

She felt like a grain of salt in a pepper container.

She felt like her life, all the time she spent with Lauren, had gone by too fast.

She wasn't ready for change.

But Lauren's death was a change.

And she didn't like change.

Not one bit.

She didn't like the empty feeling of their bedroom.

She didn't like the silent car rides to and from school.