belinda morganstern / d3 / fin

the present~

Minutes feel like hours, hours like days.

How long had it been since she left?

How long had it been since it all began?

In the corner of my room, blonde hair taunts me, eyes identical to my own stare into my soul, cursing me for not being able to protect her, cursing me for bringing a child such as Mauve Morganstern into a world that was already filled with cruelty.

If the sun has come up 17 times since the reaping- was it seventeen? or was it 20? or was it only 8?

Get yourself together, Linda! If you are going to survive you needed to keep your head on straight!

So the sun had passed this window 17- no 20- no 8-

Fuck Linda, it doesn't matter!

No, it didn't matter, because it would seem that I was truly alone, my dead daughter my only company as I waited for my body to decompose. Did you know that for the body to decompose it would begin to eat itself? How long did that take though? How long did it take for someone to die of starvation? I thought I read in a book three weeks.

So it mustn't have been 20 days because I was still alive.

Maybe it was 8.

But what if it was 20?

I mean it could have been 20, what if I was unconscious right now? What if I was already dead?

Maybe it had been weeks. Months. Did anyone find my body? Did anyone find beth? I hope they buried her. Cremation first, burn away the memory of her body preserved by a sister who claimed to love her-

No, I wasn't unconscious. Do you know how I know? I can smell the piss in the corner of the room. Who am I kidding, on myself. Cause that's right, I have pissed myself. What a fucking disgrace.

I think it's been 17 days.

Move on Linda. Don't get caught in that endless loop once again, you'll drive yourself mad.

"Huh, mad, think we have crossed that line, Linda."

Voice cracked, it sounds foreign to my ears, rusty and unused.

"Fuck you Mauve."

That's right Linda, it's all fucking Mauve's fault. Hope she dies.

Maybe she was dead, after all it had been 17 days.

Damn it, Linda.

the gift~

The gift, the start of the end.

Invited down into the basement my future awaited, both my daughters, one deathly still, the other beaming with pride.

"Mother!" She squeals, reaching for my hand, practically dragging me to the chair where her sister sat.

"I have a gift for you."

A gift, she called it, as she presented me with a nightmare with a ribbon tied around its neck.

A scream, or a cry, or was it a sob? I am not quite sure, whatever it was that escaped my lips, my eyes taking in Beth and lifeless eyes that stare directly at me. Mauve is behind me, chattering excitedly, but all I hear is the blood roaring in my ears. My screams and inner pleas drowning Mauves words as I tried to comprehend the situation before me.

And then like a razor's blade, her words breakthrough and a silent scream on my lips when I turn to look at her beaming eyes. "It's my best work, don't you think?" She asks, moving to stand behind her work- her sister- running a hand through her- its???- blonde hair. "Mum, do you love it?"

"Be- Beth. Mauve what did you do?"

A frown, disappointment surpassing pride.

"You don't love it? Look at the stitching, mother, it's perfect."

"I don't give a fuck about the stitching, Mauve! What in gods name did you do?"

"I fixed her. I fixed everything, Mother."

She was mad.

Rage replacing disappointment.

There it is again, that fear that was I wasn't supposed to feel about my daughter.

"You killed her?"

"Yeah, so? She was in the way! Can't you see I did this for us? For our family?"

"She was our family. Mauve..."

"Mother, look, you'll get over it-"

"Get out! GET OUT!"

"Mother-"

"Get out!"

"Fine!" she's climbing the stairs, "You'll forgive me, you'll see."

The door slams.

Was that the sound of the lock?

"You just need time."