Sandstorm {Discontinued}{Rewritten}

Interlude #3

Note: The first part of this chapter is written by my best friend MagicalLandofFoo and takes place before the first chapter of this book

Tidbit: This chapter is about 7,000 words all together and is the longest chapter I've written in fanfic ever.

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The day had a been a blur of sadness, anger, and desperation.

She was divorced.

She still loved Darryl. But he didn’t love her. Clearly. She had let him down. Typical. She couldn’t do a single fucking thing right. She found the perfect man and managed to ruin that. Of course she did. Why had she even tried? She should’ve ended it on their first date. He was too good for her. He deserved someone better. Someone who would actually make him happy. Someone who would be a competent wife. A competent mother.

Another nauseating pang of guilt. Her children. Grief hit her so hard she stopped walking. She leaned onto the wall and heavily panted. She couldn’t think about them right now. She knew what she had done. She’d screwed them over. Her children. Her innocent pure children. The lights of her life. Now they were gone.

She had to leave.

The urge to kill herself was stronger than it had ever been before. It was like a hunger, and the desperation to escape the hell she had caused clawed from deep within her chest and up her throat. She raced towards the nearest subway. She had to get home. She had to end this.

Dez made her way down the steps and into the musty air of the subway. Her body led her to the correct stop, she was completely on autopilot. Emotions swirled within her like a sandstorm. The subway arrived, and Dez stepped inside and quickly found a seat.

It was a little crowded, so Dez took no notice when she felt someone sit next to her. She heard a noise beside her and turned to see a man sitting next to her, uncapping a flask. He looked nearly as worn as she was.

His blond hair jutted out in every direction, his red tie was loosely hanging around his neck, and his trench coat was torn on one of the sleeves. He must’ve felt her eyes on him because he looked to her. Staring into his eyes was like looking into a mirror. The same pain and desperation she was feeling was reflected in this man’s eyes. The instant connection they made was indescribable.

“You look like you need a drink,” he commented. He had a rough, British accent that threw Dez off for a moment before she realized he was holding out his flask for her to take. She took it from him and drank.

It was a strong whiskey, and the burning she felt draining down her throat was a good relief to the confusion of her emotions. She handed it back to him.

“I’m John,” he stated.

“Deserey,” she replied. Neither of them said anything else, but it was a comfortable silence. Dez had only felt it a few times with Darryl. Most of the time silence annoyed her. It screamed at her, telling she had to fill the awkward silence she had created. But not this time.

Eventually, more and more people began to leave, and Dez and John were the only two left.

“You’re getting off at Meadow Lakes?” Dez asked. It was the last stop. It was where she lived.

John blinked as if he had been lost in deep thought. Dez knew the feeling all too well.

“I don’t really know where I’m going,” he admitted. “I was…” His voice trailed off, and Dez noticed he was angrily fighting back tears. He uncapped the flask and downed the rest of it.