Cimorelli Oneshots

Belonging (A Lisa and Katherine Story)

"I don't belong here," says Lisa, shrugging. She stares darkly into an empty void, her tired face lined with shadows, a shred of defeat in her demeanor. Her voice is haunted, laced with shattered a sort of weariness. A part of her has been drowned, dragged beneath the crashing waves by the weight of some unknown burden. It's as if the entirety of the sky has been placed upon her shoulders. "I don't. I'm the outcast."

Her tone is light, carefree, but there's a dark truth to the words that cuts straight through me, ripping my heart right in half.
I can tell how much it costs her to say that she doesn't fit in, doesn't belong. There's a deep wound there, a dull ache. It's constantly simmering under the surface, slow and painful. It's hurting her, clawing at the edges of her mind, a vicious and unrelenting force.

"No."

"Yes. Yes, Kath."

Lisa lets out a long, shivering sigh, then leans back in her seat. Her eyes are open wide, full of a haunted sort of clarity. She stares blankly at the plain white wall, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling nothing.

And there's nothing I can do to help. Anything I say in this situation will feel superficial, insignificant. I take a small step closer, pausing, trying to feel the words on my tongue.

"Lisa... oh, Lise, you can't really mean that."

My voice pleads with her, my ears desperate to hear the word "no", erasing any doubt I'd had that the statement was really true. Because it couldn't be.

Right? It couldn't be.

Lisa sits up slowly and shoots me a small smile. The slight gesture may seem insignificant, but it was a heartfelt move, full of a warm, fiery sort of love. But I can still see the grim shadow behind it all, filled with a searing, relentless pain. She lets out a tinkling laugh, and then pauses.

The silence floats between us, wonderful and terrying all at once.

Then she frowns slightly, blinking away a single tear.

"I do. I do mean it. But it's- it's fine."

She lets out a tiny breath.

"I know it, you know it, we're all good. It's fine!"

Her voice is abnormally cheery, the bright smile framing her face scarily wide. She forces a laugh, her finger reaching up to flick the stray tear from her cheek.

"It's fine," Lisa repeats again.

"No. Lisa, it's not fine. Not at all."

I scoot closer to her, reaching for her hand.

She jerks back, flinching at the touch, the feeling of my skin on hers.

"No, it's fine. Tot-a-lly fine."

She let's out a small chuckle as she backs further and further away from me.

I drop my hand.

"I'm sorry."

She stops in her tracks, tilting her head toward me, curiosity alight on her delicate features.

"For what?" she asks, confused.

"For not always being there for you. For making you feel excluded. For not letting you in."

"It's fine," she says again. "I'm used to it."

That hits me harder than anything else she's said. It feels like a hard punch to the gut. It feels like a thousand punches, a million. A terrible, churning storm wells up inside me, a gloomy green-gray light casting through the torrent of rain. It's the feeling of guilt, each layer building upon the other, dragging me closer through the dangerous field of pure, unwavering emotions. There's no turning back. I just can't believe I let all of this slip out from under me.