DEAD AND FRAGILE

PROLOGUE.

       The clock ticked at a pitiful pace, seconds dripping into minutes. Into hours. Out there, little kids were giggling joyously, eyes glued to the news channel, and parents were watching them believe, with the fondest eyes. But not here. Here, a fifteen year old girl sat, staring intently at a cold, metal object, her apartment silent, except for the incessant ticking.

       Her eyes flickered to her phone, a flash of doubt crossing her mind, as she considered spilling everything. Perhaps if she had chosen that simple choice, the chaos that rained afterwards may have been avoided. But at that moment of time, her gaze had flickered up, to the black and white picture on the small, caramel colored table, oozing with brightness. A petite baby, with wide chocolate eyes, twinkling with more optimism than the sun could hold. Short, hickory-colored curls framed her rounded cheeks, the picture catching her frozen in the middle of a laugh, one small tooth visible. The vision almost tugged the stoic girl's lips up. The baby was held by a young man and woman. Her father and...

       She no longer wanted to smile as she stared at her father's arrogant grin, subtly being hidden with the air of confidence he always presented himself with. His beeline honey hair curled, and glinted like pure gold in the sunlight. The perfect angle, for the perfect hero. Even for a 'family' picture, that's what he was. But as she shifted her gaze, a small breath escaped from her lips. Soft, dark eyes, mirrors of her own, trained on the small baby in her arms, rather than in the camera. An affectionate smile so warm, even now, at the moment of time where Corona felt the loneliest and iciest, it felt like a small ray of sunlight, shining on her face again. The woman was much shorter than the man, and unlike him being well-built, she was slim. Far too slim to be healthy, actually. At first glance, she would seem like the perfect match for him; a perfect heroine for the perfect hero. But Corona knew more than that image. Her warm eyes hid monsters, haunting ghosts, that she wished to only keep her child away from. Her cheeks were sunken, and dark bags, well-hid by concealer, of endless waken nights. Her mother was not perfect, not near it, but she was far closer to it than her father was.

       Despite all of the demons her brave, brave mother had been fighting, she tried to keep the world a perfect place for her imperfect daughter. She was a hero; she was one who actually saved the day. She tried to straighten the crooked world, fill the cracks, and fix everything she absolutely could. Her father, on the other hand... He wanted the glory. The fame. All eyes on his dangerously charming grin. People swooning. That's what he wanted.

       He didn't even care, not in the slightest, when...

       Corona squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers curling into a fist on the table, as if that would cancel out the desolate relapses, already seeping into her brain.

       Corona inched closer to the box-like television in her living room, pushing her bangs out of her eyes to see better, and grinned widely, a few gaps where her baby teeth had fell visible, dimples poking deeply into her flushed cheeks. Unlike most kids, she loved seeing the battle. Her parents were invincible, she sighed, thinking wistfully. She only hoped she could be as good of heroes as they were... especially her mother.

       She giggled, playing with the shining, emerald colored cape that her mother had made for her, tugging on her black shirt. "My name is Eclipse," She whispered, hiding her face with her cape and giggling again. "And I'm going to be the best hero that ever lived!"

       The young girl pushed herself up to her feet, slipping a little on the freshly polished mahogany-wood floors in her panda socks. She squealed a little before steadying herself, standing as tall as she could; no hero would be scared of falling. Mommy always told her that they were birds, soaring on the hope given to them by their family. And she would always respond with saying her mother would be the prettiest red robin, if she were a bird. Her mother would always simply laugh, ruffling Corona's hair. Being brought back to the present, she threw a fake punch at the air, slipping again, and bending her toe. She sucked in a sharp breath; no, birds didn't cry at the fear of falling. They never, ever fell. Suddenly, she heard a familiar shriek, with an unfamiliar tone, and dropped her cape from her face, her round eyes suddenly becoming rounder with worry. "Mommy...?" No, no it couldn't be; she crawled closer to the TV, clutching onto the sides and inhaled a small gasp, her eyes filling with tears.