InsaneJournal

Olivia Vincent [Narrative OR open to housemates!] & Castiel
Sunday, mid-afternoon, February 2, 2014; The kitchen in Vincent & Co's house
PG (BUT ALL THE FEELS!)/In progress

James was dead. He was gone and he wasn't coming back.

Olivia had done her best to reach out to people, to try and find some other way to handle the day she would soon be forced to face. Talking to the others, knowing she wasn't the only one that had to do this brought a sense of not being alone, but aside from that, there wasn't much comfort to be found from such a terrible piece of common ground they all shared. Mostly, it was suggested that she pay no mind to it, ignore it, focus on the good in her life. Because that was just it. She was alive and she should be happy about that. But she couldn't really bring herself to just let it go. Because as much as it was the day her life ended, now, here in this place where she did have a second chance at life, it was the day she lost her husband. Her wonderful, perfect, maddening husband who she had been so certain she wouldn't have made it past the first date with.

She sat alone in the kitchen at the table, idly stirring the tea she'd just made, staring blankly at the wall. The calendar to the left told her it was February 2, 2014. She'd rather just forget the day existed. A sigh escaped her as her eyes dropped to the cup on the table. She couldn't even bring herself to drink it, so instead she stood up and took the dishes to the sink and busied herself with cleaning what bit was left in the sink from the previous night's dinner.

At this point, Livvy had decided to try and focus on other things, focus on her friends, on her son. Her son, who had somehow miraculously survived, even when she wouldn't have expected him to be able to escape that monster's hand. He had made it out of that house alive, against the odds. He had survived and she and James' sacrifice hadn't been for nothing.

In all her months in Lawrence, she still had not truly allowed herself to grieve. She didn't want to face the fact that her husband was really gone, so she didn't. But now, here, facing the very day that it had happened made it so much harder to ignore. Only now was she beginning to realize something she'd known, but had not truly clicked in her mind. James was dead. Her husband was gone. But hadn't she died as well? And here she was, standing, unhurt and whole. She wasn't sure how. Magic, she supposed, even if the idea of it still seemed far-fetched, despite everything else. But James... he was gone. Just...gone. And she didn't know how to deal with that.

Olivia was still standing in the kitchen, dishes washed and set aside to dry and her hands now gripping the edge of the counter as her mind was flooded with memories, so many memories of the husband she held so dear. The day they met, the way he was so persistent in trying to date her, the way he'd managed to get her attention and actually damn near beg for a second date and a third. She could still remember the cheap plastic ring he'd given her in the too-quickly asked proposal, just a temporary one she could have in place of the real ring he promised her. She could still see in her mind's eye the way she had broken down completely when she realized she was pregnant and how calm and reassuring and bloody ecstatic he had been despite all the stressors Olivia herself was focusing on and somehow he'd actually calmed her down too.

And then there was the thought that shattered it all: He was dead. James was dead. He was gone and he wasn't coming back. She let out a whimper, but it was quieter than she would have expected, and sank down to the kitchen floor, burying her face in her knees. She was choking on sobs, suffocating with the realization of that loss.