Walking on Thread
2.
A blond girl stumbles in the streets of Brooklyn, New York. People look down at her, thinking that she’s a drunk or a druggie. Those things aren’t true.
They only need to look into her tear filled eyes, and take in her malnourished body, to understand. The only thing Hestia Whitwell is addicted to is the memory of the love of her life.
Mark was her best friend, her crutch, and her savior. He was the one who told her she was beautiful on her ugly days, the sunshine to every stormy day. He was the yin to her yang. He was the air to her fire, her only taste of freedom and euphoria. Her escape.
But things didn’t work out as planned.
Mark and Hestia would meet outside her house at 9pm, and they would run away together. Jumping on the subway and getting out of there. Her life at home wasn’t bad. But her family disapproved of Mark’s, and Mark’s family made no secret of their hatred of the Whitwells.
That’s why they ran away. Away from the home they didn't have the freedom they lusted for. The freedom to love and to be loved by each other. The comfort of having a lovers arms around you while you drift off to sleep. The love they kept giving each other was all the safety they needed.
It’s then he died.
Just like that. Too fast to sink in, leaving Hestia hanging on too long for a lover that had already gone. It was too late for Hestia to go back. To go back home was against everything Mark had worked for.
So with the bracelet he gave her around her wrist she left for New York. A place that should offer security. A place that should be homely. But it wasn’t her home.
Leaving the familiar streets of London she felt no excitement for her new life. Only grief and regret from the life she’d left behind.
Mark was the kind of guy who could put color in a gray picture. Without him, her life was a gray mess. Even the bright city lights on the horizon failed to offer her security. Mark was her light in the darkness, and now her light had extinguished. She was left in sheer and utter emptiness.
As the sun rises over the city landscape she stumbles from one temporary shelter to another, feeling nothing but the emptiness that Mark left behind.
They only need to look into her tear filled eyes, and take in her malnourished body, to understand. The only thing Hestia Whitwell is addicted to is the memory of the love of her life.
Mark was her best friend, her crutch, and her savior. He was the one who told her she was beautiful on her ugly days, the sunshine to every stormy day. He was the yin to her yang. He was the air to her fire, her only taste of freedom and euphoria. Her escape.
But things didn’t work out as planned.
Mark and Hestia would meet outside her house at 9pm, and they would run away together. Jumping on the subway and getting out of there. Her life at home wasn’t bad. But her family disapproved of Mark’s, and Mark’s family made no secret of their hatred of the Whitwells.
That’s why they ran away. Away from the home they didn't have the freedom they lusted for. The freedom to love and to be loved by each other. The comfort of having a lovers arms around you while you drift off to sleep. The love they kept giving each other was all the safety they needed.
It’s then he died.
Just like that. Too fast to sink in, leaving Hestia hanging on too long for a lover that had already gone. It was too late for Hestia to go back. To go back home was against everything Mark had worked for.
So with the bracelet he gave her around her wrist she left for New York. A place that should offer security. A place that should be homely. But it wasn’t her home.
Leaving the familiar streets of London she felt no excitement for her new life. Only grief and regret from the life she’d left behind.
Mark was the kind of guy who could put color in a gray picture. Without him, her life was a gray mess. Even the bright city lights on the horizon failed to offer her security. Mark was her light in the darkness, and now her light had extinguished. She was left in sheer and utter emptiness.
As the sun rises over the city landscape she stumbles from one temporary shelter to another, feeling nothing but the emptiness that Mark left behind.
♠ ♠ ♠
Okay - not that good and I apologize.Please don't be a silent reader.
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