we are just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty
Ophelia had not grieved the passing of their family. Blinded bigots, terrified of change, easy to anger and fast to their fists. They don’t know the proper way to miss someone. They are learning today.
Sam had been the one to take them to The Voice. To guide them to their own salvation. He had danced with them, had taken them to see the ocean for the first time in all its moonlit glory. They had loved him. They still do, and they don’t know what to do now that the love was aimless and tangled up with anger and loss in their chest.
They are sitting somewhere in the Woodlands. They aren’t sure where. All Ophelia knows is that they had run once the news had been shared, and without lungs that burned or legs that ached, only the tangle of thoughts in their head dictated how far they ended up. Now they are sitting with their knees around their ears, hands buried deep in their icy hair as they rock back and forth, eyes painfully dry and unseeing as they try to grapple with the momentous loss they are experiencing.
Sam had been the one to take them to The Voice. To guide them to their own salvation. He had danced with them, had taken them to see the ocean for the first time in all its moonlit glory. They had loved him. They still do, and they don’t know what to do now that the love was aimless and tangled up with anger and loss in their chest.
They are sitting somewhere in the Woodlands. They aren’t sure where. All Ophelia knows is that they had run once the news had been shared, and without lungs that burned or legs that ached, only the tangle of thoughts in their head dictated how far they ended up. Now they are sitting with their knees around their ears, hands buried deep in their icy hair as they rock back and forth, eyes painfully dry and unseeing as they try to grapple with the momentous loss they are experiencing.
