Yesterday is gone

Because she's sad

{{Plot? Me? Why would I have that.... Seriously, this plot came out of no where and I guess we're just implementing it}}

Matthew slowly pushed open the door and peeked inside. Stephanie sat at the edge of the bed. The woman had given up on withholding any semblance of composure. She sat there, balling her eyes out.

"Why," she spoke quietly between sobs. "Why did this have to happen."

He stood in the doorway, unable to make himself go to her. Frozen with the same, yet different, kind of sadness. What could he say? He could only make this situation worse.

Stephanie reached to her left and picked up the roses she'd tossed away a second ago. They seemed to make her cry even harder. After a few second of deep breathing, Stephanie managed to compose herself. Yet, her continuation of spilling tears showed how broken she still was inside.

Then, in rage, she wrapped her hands tightly around the stems and shook the flowers gruffly before throwing them back onto the bed. She yelled while she shook the innocent plants. "Why," she continued to softly sob after the flowers were on the bed again.

He squinted to make out what she was staring at. She seemed to just be looking at her hands. When they moved again, he caught a view of the blood on her hands. Probably from the thorns of the roses.

Slowly, Stephanie picked up the white rose again. "It's all my fault," she whispered. Then, she plucked a petal from the stem. "It's all his fault." Another petal. "It's no one's fault." And another.

Matt slid down the door jamb and sat there, leaning and listening to the messed up game of 'he loves me, he loves me not'. There were about three breaks where she Steph couldn't keep it together and just stopped altogether. Still, she kept on going. He just kept watching.

"It was no one's fault," the final verdict was read, as Stephanie let the last petal drop. She almost seemed angry. She grabbed the red rose. Her hand picked up and was ready to pluck another pedal, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Matthew couldn't bear it any longer. He stood up and walked to the bathroom. It wasn't there. He would just have to buy them. Without thinking ahead at all, Matthew just turned and left the house, heading out to find what he was looking for.

*

Stephanie's initial scout of the house proved fruitless. And her second one proved useless as well. "Jason," she called, walking into the work room again.

Jason lept to his feet when he heard her enter the room. "Stephanie," he pleaded, "about earlier. I wasn't thinking. I didn't know it would still-"

"It's okay," Stephanie quickly forgave. "I just need to know where Matthew is."

"I thought he was with you," Jason responded, frowning with concern. "Last we saw he followed you up to the third floor where we're not allowed."

"He didn't..." Steph puzzled, voice trailing off at the beginning of the sentence. "Where did he go? I searched the upstairs level completely."

"Oh hey Steph," Chris greeted, entering the room. "What are you still doing here?"

The girl was taken aback. "I live here."

"I meant," Chris burbled, stumbling for the right words. "Didn't you already head out for the evening?"

"No. Why would you think that."

"It's just... The door. I heard you go out, like, a couple hours ago."

"I didn-" She froze. "Oh no."