Hannah Silver {Cinderella} (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} noglass_slipper) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} bellumlogs,@ 2010-02-25 03:53:00 |
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| Entry tags: | cinderella |
Who: Hannah
What: Finding out Emery is gone & the aftermath
Where: 807 to start
When: Sometime this week, afternoon-ish. Vague timeline, yay.
Warnings: Someday I'll warn for excessive happiness, I swear.
Hannah had ended up waiting longer than she would have liked to approach Emery, and by the time she finally got up the courage to just ask him about it more than a week had passed. Although face-to-face would probably have been better for this kind of thing, she couldn't bring herself to see him - not yet. Not when he and Liam looked exactly alike and she didn't even trust herself to be able to tell them apart.
She'd sent him a private message the afternoon before, and waited a full day - twenty four hours, she counted - with no reply.
That was when the panic started to set in, and she immediately hated herself for not contacting him right away. Who knew what Liam could have done, or what Emery could have done to himself? (But she didn't know if they were the same person, not yet.) She spent an hour contemplating sending another message, but her concern overrode her fear and she decided to go to his apartment and see him for herself.
It took her another half hour to decide between the can of mace and the baseball bat, but in the end she stuck the mace in her back pocket and took the stairs down to the eighth floor. It was just as quiet as it had been on that terrible Sunday, her frantic scramble from his apartment to her own still fresh in her mind. She was quiet, even as she made her way forward, pressing her ear against the door to listen. After a moment of hearing nothing within she knocked, first a gentle rap and then an insistent pound.
No one answered.
Dread gnawing at her belly, Hannah tried the doorknob, and to her surprise it turned easily. Pushing the door open slowly, she peered inside with her breath held, but there didn't seem to be any signs of life. She took one step into the apartment, then another and another until she was standing between the living room and the kitchen.
The first thing she noticed was that quite a bit was missing. The furniture was still there, but the end tables and knicknacks were gone, and the couch cushions were scattered about on the floor. Broken glass littered the floor in the kitchen, and upon further inspection the bedroom had the same look - hastily empty, as if the former occupant had left in a hurry.
She walked around the apartment twice before it hit her: Emery was gone.
The realization hit her full force, causing her to stop in her tracks and sit down right in the middle of the living room. He was gone. Gone, gone, gone. No note, no indication, nothing... just this. An empty shell waiting to be discovered. Hannah didn't even know when he'd left - that night? The next day? Had she just missed him by an hour or so?
What if he thought she hated him, that she wouldn't understand? If she'd talked to him sooner, would he have stayed? Could she have changed things? If she hadn't made plans that Valentine's Day would he still be here right now? Did he leave because of her? Because of Liam? Were they the same person or weren't they? So many questions raced through her mind, one after the other. So many what ifs doomed to forever remain unanswered.
Emery had left, and this time she knew she'd never see him again. It was pure coincidence that he'd moved here in the first place, and things like that barely happened once in a lifetime, never mind twice. The last thing he'd said to her - because it was him then, she knew it - was to get out. Get out and be safe, to get away.
"GET OUT OF HERE, HANNAH! NOW!"
"Oh." The word slipped out on its own, a pitiful whimper of a sound. Poor Emery. She hadn't noticed, hadn't asked; not until it was too late. He did so much for her, he'd helped her and been there for her when no one else had, but she wasn't fast enough to return the favor. He needed her and she'd just made things worse.
It was her fault. Poor, poor Emery.
Her eyes closed, but even that didn't stop the hot tears from escaping and slipping down her cheeks. The pain in her chest was nearly unbearable; her heart felt like it was being crushed, and somehow her lungs couldn't absorb enough air. It hurt; oh God it hurt so much it surpassed emotional and became physical pain. Feelings so strong they actually ached.
"No." She wrapped her arms around herself and cried in the middle of the vacant apartment, cried until her tears had run dry and her voice was too hoarse for sobs.
The cool metal of the silver bracelet around her wrist felt good against her skin, and the dangling heart made a soft scraping sound against the floor as she pushed herself to her feet. No more tears, Hannah promised herself, and no more weakness. She'd go on because she had to, and because it was what he would have wanted her to do. She'd be strong from now on, no matter how hard it seemed.
Weariness washed over her as she let herself back into her own apartment. God, she really needed to stop this, or she'd get herself back in a mental hospital.
Sleep first, she thought, and then later she'd give her psychiatrist a call. She didn't know who else to talk to.
She'd sent him a private message the afternoon before, and waited a full day - twenty four hours, she counted - with no reply.
That was when the panic started to set in, and she immediately hated herself for not contacting him right away. Who knew what Liam could have done, or what Emery could have done to himself? (But she didn't know if they were the same person, not yet.) She spent an hour contemplating sending another message, but her concern overrode her fear and she decided to go to his apartment and see him for herself.
It took her another half hour to decide between the can of mace and the baseball bat, but in the end she stuck the mace in her back pocket and took the stairs down to the eighth floor. It was just as quiet as it had been on that terrible Sunday, her frantic scramble from his apartment to her own still fresh in her mind. She was quiet, even as she made her way forward, pressing her ear against the door to listen. After a moment of hearing nothing within she knocked, first a gentle rap and then an insistent pound.
No one answered.
Dread gnawing at her belly, Hannah tried the doorknob, and to her surprise it turned easily. Pushing the door open slowly, she peered inside with her breath held, but there didn't seem to be any signs of life. She took one step into the apartment, then another and another until she was standing between the living room and the kitchen.
The first thing she noticed was that quite a bit was missing. The furniture was still there, but the end tables and knicknacks were gone, and the couch cushions were scattered about on the floor. Broken glass littered the floor in the kitchen, and upon further inspection the bedroom had the same look - hastily empty, as if the former occupant had left in a hurry.
She walked around the apartment twice before it hit her: Emery was gone.
The realization hit her full force, causing her to stop in her tracks and sit down right in the middle of the living room. He was gone. Gone, gone, gone. No note, no indication, nothing... just this. An empty shell waiting to be discovered. Hannah didn't even know when he'd left - that night? The next day? Had she just missed him by an hour or so?
What if he thought she hated him, that she wouldn't understand? If she'd talked to him sooner, would he have stayed? Could she have changed things? If she hadn't made plans that Valentine's Day would he still be here right now? Did he leave because of her? Because of Liam? Were they the same person or weren't they? So many questions raced through her mind, one after the other. So many what ifs doomed to forever remain unanswered.
Emery had left, and this time she knew she'd never see him again. It was pure coincidence that he'd moved here in the first place, and things like that barely happened once in a lifetime, never mind twice. The last thing he'd said to her - because it was him then, she knew it - was to get out. Get out and be safe, to get away.
"GET OUT OF HERE, HANNAH! NOW!"
"Oh." The word slipped out on its own, a pitiful whimper of a sound. Poor Emery. She hadn't noticed, hadn't asked; not until it was too late. He did so much for her, he'd helped her and been there for her when no one else had, but she wasn't fast enough to return the favor. He needed her and she'd just made things worse.
It was her fault. Poor, poor Emery.
Her eyes closed, but even that didn't stop the hot tears from escaping and slipping down her cheeks. The pain in her chest was nearly unbearable; her heart felt like it was being crushed, and somehow her lungs couldn't absorb enough air. It hurt; oh God it hurt so much it surpassed emotional and became physical pain. Feelings so strong they actually ached.
"No." She wrapped her arms around herself and cried in the middle of the vacant apartment, cried until her tears had run dry and her voice was too hoarse for sobs.
The cool metal of the silver bracelet around her wrist felt good against her skin, and the dangling heart made a soft scraping sound against the floor as she pushed herself to her feet. No more tears, Hannah promised herself, and no more weakness. She'd go on because she had to, and because it was what he would have wanted her to do. She'd be strong from now on, no matter how hard it seemed.
Weariness washed over her as she let herself back into her own apartment. God, she really needed to stop this, or she'd get herself back in a mental hospital.
Sleep first, she thought, and then later she'd give her psychiatrist a call. She didn't know who else to talk to.