Who: Rarity When: Morning Where: The Pier What: Being Strong is Not Easy Rating: Sad Open
She hadn't sung in a while. Weeks, maybe. Not more than lullaby's to the baby's as she put them down for naps or to bed in the wee hours of the night. She hadn't felt that kind of rush of emotion and feeling deep in her gut in months. She had been busy taking care of children, of being in love, of working.
Her heart felt shattered. Again.
With Amy in the house she couldn't lose it. She couldn't let go. The last time Art had disappeared--shortly before Rarity found out she was pregnant--she had destroyed the house. She had shattered a mirror, tore apart the bed linens, and practically turned over every object in the house she could get her hands on. Today? Today she left as if the diamond cutie mark on her hind end was her heart--hard, steadfast, the toughest of stones.
She left, yet, in a delirium of depression while the babies slept in their cribs. Though she carried their monitor in hand as she swept through the door, down the steps, and onto the hot sand. Rarity hadn't even dressed today, hadn't changed out of her eggplant colored nightgown of silk that left nothing to the imagination but the lace flecked with shimmering white rhinestones danced in the sun. Her human feet, still so strange to her after these years on the island, dragged through the hot white sands without much care.
And she started to sing. They really needed a choir. Or maybe she should join that theatre production. Something. Anything. Singing always made her feel better. Especially when it was with her friends. The words poured from her lips like the things she never got to say to Art before he was gone again. Had she neglected him? Was that why he had gone? Because they didn't cause a fuss or drama like those other families? Because they were quiet and kept to themselves? Maybe he hadn't been happy.
Rarity hurried through the sand toward the pier as if in her own music video, singing from her soul as her skin touched the wood.
"So pull me out of my misery. Hurry up, come save me. Pull me out of my misery. Enough, enough of this suffering, hurry up and come save me! Pull me out of my misery. Pull me out of my misery."
The blonde woman held clutched in her right hand the baby monitor and even as she glided up the pier, glancing back at the house, she continued. Tears streamed down her face, running mascara she hadn't washed off in...well..days. She was lucky she had plucked off her false eyelashes else they might have been stuck their forever, lop-sided or frozen on her high cheek bone. She was a miserable model. Beautiful and ugly in tragedy.
Rarity's free hand rest over her abdomen. They had been talking about more children. A crushing thought overcame her as she imagined having to go through pregnancy by herself once more, and yet she would gladly do it because she loved that man.
"At the door, I'm thinkin' things I never thought before, Like what your love would taste like. Give me more! Don't sell this feeling at the grocery store, of course your love it tastes like drugs to me..."
Looking from the house and all of those memories to the ocean before her. She thought about jumping in. Not to drown, just to float, to be free. Maybe if her body could be free from gravity so too could her heart be from this pain. She put the monitor down carefully on one of the posts to her left, then threw herself over the lip of the pier.
Just to float.
Just to have a moment of peace.
Following her jump came a slash of impact, then a gasp of breath as she popped up, and the flick-flick of water as she rolled onto her back and spread her arms. And she float, crying silently to herself.