Sour Lemons

Old, Bleeding Wounds. (1)

"I thought I gained a friend.."

"Turns out? I gained nothing."

"Surely it couldn't have been nothi-"

A beat of silence passed as the clicking sound Microphone's gain decreased in volume. For once in her life, Taco was rendered speechless. Was this how Pickle felt..? Because right now, she feels some serious deja-vu from this. Perhaps he felt this helplessness, this shock, whenever she had revealed that they were never really friends in the first place. His face said it all, and he would be looking in a mirror if he saw Taco's current expression. Oh, the irony.

The tables are turned this time. And they turned hard. It wasn't Taco leaving Microphone, like she had planned to do at the start of this partnership, no, it was painfully different. Wrong, almost. Well, that's how it felt but you didn't hear that from anyone.

Staring at a tree that sat a few feet away from herself in shock, Taco mouthed Microphone's name as if it would bring her back. Which it didn't. Perhaps there was still time..? No, no- it's too soon! But she can't risk waiting more than a day, otherwise it could be too late.. She's made this mistake once, and she doesn't want to do it again. But that was already said and done.

Handfuls upon handfuls of salt had been rubbed into her already exposed and infected wounds that showed no time of healing anytime soon. Bandaids don't fix bullet holes, after all. Any time she would make any progress on healing for once in her life, it'd blow up in front of her face, the ashes and smoke leaving a teasing glow in the process.

.

Taco could only watch in horror as Microphone walked through the portal, saying her goodbyes. There was something else that she had managed to hear, something about saying hi to Pickle for Knife. She wasn't sure that this was what was said, as it was hard to tell with how loud her ears rang. Her heart pounded in her chest(?) as she stared at the spot where her former-partner-in-crime once stood.

Not wanting to risk the chance of being seen any longer, Taco wiped a tear from her eye as she hid behind the fence. She was quick to slam her fist down on MePad's home button, no longer willing to stick around this god-forsaken place for another second.

She had been teleported back into the forest, sitting in the middle of a clearing while MePad lay limp beside her. It took everything she had to not burst into tears right then and there. She felt sick to her stomach. But she didn't know why. She hadn't eaten anything that would be bad for her, she was sure of it. So why did she feel nauseous, Why did she feel so wrong..?

Did she really go soft?.. Over one person, who was supposed to be a pawn in her game, that just showed her the bare minimum? One person that was only supposed to stick around until the money was one, made her feel better. Even if it was just by a small amount, Microphone had helped heal wounds that had been bleeding for years on end, just by showing basic decency.

How pathetic..

..

By now, Taco had went through several apology letters, a pile of discarded ones on the ground beside her. It had rained yesterday, so the ground was damp. Which she did not like. Wet grass was always too slippery, and it just.. felt weird, in her book at least. And then there was mud. She didn't even want to go into detail about how much she doesn't like mud. One of the reasons for this is how hard it is to get of-

Okay, why is she thinking about meaningless things now? Get your head in the game, Taco! There isn't enough time for this!

Tossing away yet another letter, she groaned in frustration. Taco held her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to think of something good enough. How long she had been doing this, she didn't even remember. Time was a complicated thing now, especially in the forest.