Love Isn't as Easy as the Books

Part 12

  She'd been staring at that blinking cursor on the blank page for almost an hour and a half now.

What should she say? What could she say?

How does she put into words everything she wanted to say? Everything she needed to say.

How does she describe that absence, that familiar, empty, heartbreaking, all encompassing absence that she's felt for the last three months?

This absence killed the relationship last time, and she had this sinking, depressed feeling that it was happening again.

But the words weren't there. She couldn't figure out how to say anything.

The TV in the background provided noise in the fairly large apartment she found herself in.

"The Wrath of Freen Sarocha" was the current headline and had been for the last two months.

"I would hate to be the Red Lotus, or anyone that owes Sarocha money," said the fake tan, fake haired news announcer. "After the attempt on Miss Sarocha's life three months ago, she's been on a one woman crusade. She turned her company inside out looking for any connection to the terrorist organization which resulted in almost a thousand people arrested on Future Industries' grounds along with an innumerable amount of lawsuits against those individuals for breach of contract. Then today, if you haven't seen it already, while Miss Sarocha was preparing to testify against the shooter of the author Becky in Lima, Peru, she was once again attacked by a Red Lotus member. And luckily we have exclusive footage from inside the courtroom."

A shaky, blurry image that was likely recorded on a phone showed someone standing up from the crowd and pointing a weapon as Freen. The gun misfired, and before anyone could do anything Freen had jumped out of the witness stand, vaulted over the low barrier between the crowd and the court, and scissor kicked the shooter to the ground.

"The reports say that the shooter is alive and in good condition, considering Miss Sarocha broke both of his arms and three of his ribs," the announcer said. "Miss Sarocha declined to comment on her war against the Red Lotus or on the condition of the woman who no doubt saved her life, Becky, who has not been seen in public since the event."

Becky frowned. She couldn't bring herself to leave her parents' place since being shot, nor could she stand to be in any place more crowded than four people. It had been three months of not leaving this apartment. It had been three months of Becky being completely silent, neither by choice nor want. It felt like she had bleed away all of her words in Lima.

But even worse than lacking words was having to watch Freen get attacked over and over again.

The little cursor blinked at her, mocking her with each second. The white page was laughing at her.

The two hundred read but unanswered emails from Freen were two hundred little wounds. The dozens of messages from Bolin and Mako didn't hurt as much.

She just couldn't think of anything to say.

She took a deep breath and even though the doctors told her that her chest had been healed, the broken ribs had put themselves back together, it still hurt to breathe.

Finally she wrote four simple words, "I hope you're ok."

The first four words she's written in months. And it felt like she had to climb up a mountain to do it.

It didn't feel cathartic or energizing or wonderful like it usually does to write. It just felt draining. And Becky hated herself as she hit the send button.