𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 |
Struck with a searing life that
she couldn't escape, it was a
world filled with shadowed
demons and infernal lies.
With a stoic archer prying into
her hidden past, Diane Smith
persists in a life of deceit,
even i...
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CHAPTER ONE TO LIFE
•••
"What if..."
The what ifs. It was a constant travail of endless prospects many of which could have been extant realities. Constant thinking, impending harrowing, it had a capable dominion on a mind unable to heal, stuck on an immotile course of its own. It seemed to be an impossible feat to evade the anticipated cycle of questions and suppositions of what could've been in a single life, a life barely lived. Naturally, it was only a prosaic experience that no one could ever escape, fastened to an imagination of conundrums and excruciating ripostes of false comfort. That was what it did, it patronized the very mind with consequences of inaction until the harsh realization came of wondering what would be the point of such worry. Yet, the possibility of regret seemed to have an endless rule over Diane Smith.
A heartening beam of morning light shone greatly through the large glass windows of Java Jones. Swift breeze and a cloudy sky, the weather had been particularly tame and easy for a weekday. Needless to say, there came no complaint to the fortuitous stream of heat and sun that poured in the avidly lit café. The sound of drizzling brew and glass clinks further matched the welcoming ambiance of the comforting space, accompanied by the faint chime of bells and steps of a new customer strolling in as a swift breeze would come by every so often as the front doors would swing open. However, it was turning to be difficult to enjoy the Tuesday morning when a hurricane of unnecessary inquiries had been tossed in the air so carelessly and senselessly in her face.
"What if she didn't get in?"
"What if something happened to her?"
"What if she got hit?"
The absurd launch of question after question had Diane defiant of the incoming migraine that had wanted to settle by her temples, a pulsating pressure that throbbed in her skull with each word that reached her ears. She attempted to focus on the intricate frothing in her latte, to at least appreciate the delicate art in a turning warm drink. The white leaf nestled contentedly on the surface, slowly whirling in a complete circle as it remained untouched on its little white plate. She had been half tempted to down the whole thing in a single swallow, but then she wouldn't have anything else to busy her eyes with. Green stare wholly trained on the white glass, the smooth rim and turn of the handle, and the delicate hot steam that wafted in the air. She sighed, a tired breath dragging through her parted mouth as she spoke. "Repeat that last statement for me."
"I said what I said!" Though she didn't look up, she could already imagine that there was a frantic glint in Simon's eyes as they widened in fear. His fingers, once fumbling with the cord of his headphones, now jumped to the soft curls of his hair, gripping tightly at the roots in frustration. They tangled messily in his grasp before he eventually let his hands down at the table, fingers back to scraping the thin rubber of his headphone cord. Undoubtedly, he had been filled with worry, and waiting seemed to have only amplified the longing dread that consumed him and his turning mind as his leg jumped a rhythmic tune, his knee knocking against the table wood every once in a while.
