AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be
maybe they never will be
The cigarette isn't accepted back, she doesn't want that anymore either. Doesn't really want anything, doesn't want to move, doesn't want to be pushed from this precarious ledge she's found herself on as she stares hard at the counter. That gaze slowly drifts down to her hands, where Milo touches his fingers lightly over the dried blood on them.
This is not what she meant when she'd told herself she wanted to be better, to be different, to change... Well, then what the hell was it? Justice? A lesson to teach? It kind of feels like it doesn't matter now, the who or the what or the why or the when... it just matters that she's done it again, she's hurt someone, she almost left him for dead.
So why bother cleaning the blood off her hands? It's merely a physical manifestation of all the rest that's on them, a glaring reminder of who she really is, the part of her she can't escape. So she hovers, hesitant to reach the sink. She can feel herself spiraling from this, from a situation she created, another good thing corrupted.
Milo offers Rigby a job and it surprises the both of them. Aurelia has nothing to say about it though, part of her even wishes he'd just accept it and make a better life for himself. At least something more... purposeful, less chaotic and doomed. But maybe that's just Rigby's thing. And anyway, it almost hurts that Milo's able to get this far with the kid when she wasn't, and she'd wanted to. She was never able to actually break through, due to circumstance or rocky starts or bad timing... it didn't matter. And it sucks that it's so much easier for Milo, whereas instead she fails and she erupts. Then she regrets.
So she continues to stiffen into tense silence, having hardly moved, blood still stained across her skin, her gloves, her clothes.
This is not what she meant when she'd told herself she wanted to be better, to be different, to change... Well, then what the hell was it? Justice? A lesson to teach? It kind of feels like it doesn't matter now, the who or the what or the why or the when... it just matters that she's done it again, she's hurt someone, she almost left him for dead.
So why bother cleaning the blood off her hands? It's merely a physical manifestation of all the rest that's on them, a glaring reminder of who she really is, the part of her she can't escape. So she hovers, hesitant to reach the sink. She can feel herself spiraling from this, from a situation she created, another good thing corrupted.
Milo offers Rigby a job and it surprises the both of them. Aurelia has nothing to say about it though, part of her even wishes he'd just accept it and make a better life for himself. At least something more... purposeful, less chaotic and doomed. But maybe that's just Rigby's thing. And anyway, it almost hurts that Milo's able to get this far with the kid when she wasn't, and she'd wanted to. She was never able to actually break through, due to circumstance or rocky starts or bad timing... it didn't matter. And it sucks that it's so much easier for Milo, whereas instead she fails and she erupts. Then she regrets.
So she continues to stiffen into tense silence, having hardly moved, blood still stained across her skin, her gloves, her clothes.
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
when you're ready to sleep
