Sweet Revenge

(41) I promise.

"When everything you love has been stolen from you the only thing you have
left is revenge"

The more you look Avia the worse it gets.

I look up from Crystals dead body to see Gale and Lucca standing at the front of the pillar and statue decorated square.

I never meant for any of this to happen. I lost a friend, again.

I look away from them to pick up my gun. Once I have it I turn around to walk out the other end.

I keep my head focused or whatever in front of me. The tears keep falling as I try my best to not think about what just happened. The more I seem to try not think about it the more it hurts.

I walk down the the escalator that has stopped working and head the opposite direction.

I hear footsteps behind me so I turn around and see Lucca and Gale running after me.

"It's going to be okay Avia" Lucca says.

"Yeah, was it even your fault." Gale adds.

I shake my head as tears continue to fall down my face.

"No it won't be alright." I mutter turning around and getting back on my way.

I guess they understand what I'm feeling because they don't chase after me or call out for me. I head down another broken escalator but go the opposite direction of  the North side of the Tracks.

David and Daniel don't need to fight any more.

They've won.

~~~~~

I'm loosing everything one by one so what's the point. I'm done trying to change myself for others approval.

I'm not perfect and well put together. I may have my hair perfectly straight and lips in a perfect pout but I'm not perfect.

I like to think I am but I'm not. Even if I don't think I am everyone else does. I must probably not have a care in the world.

As if it were expected for my demons to be worn like a scarlet letter pinned to my chest. They assume if you can't see the pain, it's not there.

As if pain does not exist if you're not bleeding or in a hospital bed. Sometimes the worst pain is the one you can't even see.

So we learn how to pretend. Smile and strive to make our lives look better than everyone else's when we wouldn't even want to live it. We work to looking perfect and having people think we are.

All because we don't like to talk about the tough stuff.

I walk up the last few stairs with my gun clutched in my hand.

Once I get to the last step I hold it up in aim, ready to shoot.

I don't really have anything to live for.

I don't care if I'm still crying. My lips are trembling and my eyes are teary.

I see him leaning on the railing looking out the glass at the chaos that's happening.