Without Her.
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MatureOngoing30m
Huling na-publish Sat, Sep 28, 2019
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It's been four years since Soraya lost her best friend. Four years of grief, of mourning, of processing, of healing.
This year, things were going to be different. She had spent long enough swallowed by her pain, she had to take grief by the hands and move.
Every year her Support Group, fondly referred to as the Chronically Without, choose somewhere to travel to and be together for a month during the summer. (They call it a rehabilitation getaway so it's fully covered by the institution that facilitates their group meetings.)
This year, for the first time, Soraya was going.
And it would change her life, of course.
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DISCLAIMER:
This story was created for entertainment purposes only. Any similarities to real occurrences or people (living and dead) is purely coincidental. These characters are utterly fictional and of my own creation. No part of this work may be reproduced or redistributed without my consent.
© totis_dilectione_mea, 2018/2024
All Rights Reserved
Sumali sa pinakamalaking komunidad ng pagkukuwentoMakakuha ng personalized na mga rekomendasyon ng kuwento, i-save ang iyong mga paborito sa iyong library, at magkomento at bumoto para lumago ang iyong komunidad.
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In the dimly lit waiting room of the therapist's office, a young woman sits with tense shoulders and determined eyes. She's just come out of her session-relieved, but still tangled in a quiet storm. She's a survivor of a traumatic kidnapping, and it shows-not in scars, but in the way she carries herself. Small in stature, yes, but you can feel the simmering anger beneath her skin, forged by everything she's been through and everything no one helped her fix. Across the room, another person waits. Quieter. Equally haunted. She fidgets, eyes darting, unable to stay still for long. There's history in her posture-years of growing up around violence, chaos, and never feeling safe. Her ADHD doesn't help; her mind's a pinball machine of thoughts, never landing, always spinning. When the first woman rises to leave, their eyes meet. Just for a second. Long enough to say everything words can't. "He's not really helping us, is he?" she murmurs under her breath. The other just nods. Silent. Knowing. Maybe they weren't supposed to meet again. But fate-messy, unpredictable fate-had other plans. Another day. Another place. Same ache in their bones. Something soft begins to grow between them. Tentative. Delicate. Real. They don't pretend it'll be easy, but in each other, they spot the flicker of something rare: hope. The kind that dares to whisper of healing, of peace, maybe even of love. "Even if we've only known each other a few months, it feels like I could tell you anything. Everything. From my darkest secrets to the dumbest memes. From late-night thoughts to chaotic brain farts. I don't know-It just feels right." -Clementine Sousa
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