You & I
fantasy
Seraphine Waldorf was, at first glance, a tiny, delicate girl with long dark brown hair that faded to a rich vibrant black near her bouncy curly ends, big, docile hazel eyes, and a pretty smile. Her soft limbs would bend and twist in pink leotards and pointe shoes, spin and twirl and tip toe. The end of her blue pens (always blue, always) always found itself between her plump lips as she studied and chewed absentmindedly. Pretty soft cotton dresses and shorts and thin, chiffon blouses made up her wardrobe, usually paired with a fashionable pair of penny loafers or sandals and occasionally tennis shoes. She would smile when asked, speak when spoken to, and was a quiet little doll on Sonya Waldorf's never ending shelf of achievements.
Upon further inspection, however, one would find resilience underneath those ambivalent eyes, a hesitant bravado brewing underneath her quiet, witty quips. Those soft, wiry limbs were slightly muscular, but not overly so, and only noticeable upon exertion. Her delicate feet were hard and bruised, body falling into an ice bath every evening before calling it quits. The normally sweet, gentle girl could turn into the most angry, anxious little thing at the slightest hint of serious trouble, but since she never really went looking for trouble, no one had seen her turn into little more than a doe-eyed, shaking mess that snapped a little more every few seconds.
Perhaps, Detective Donald Trent mused, Seraphine Waldorf was not the small little doll everyone made her out to be.
"You just need to tell me the truth," he prodded, trying not to upset her anymore than he already had. She gnawed on her bottom lip, cringing at the bright lights and how warm it was in the room. Had it always been so warm and bright? Why wouldn't they let her leave? She knew that these were just intimidation tactics, had read and heard about them and knew they were just meant to scare her into confessing and that she couldn't fall for it, but still found her resolve slipping a little. "You're not going to be in any trouble."
"Can I-I have some water, please?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice level. Detective Trent poured her a glass of water, pushing the tall glass towards her silently. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her skirt as she tried not to make eye contact with him. He could see her, see right into her very being and tell she was lying. Could he? Could he see what she was trying to hide? It felt that way, anyway, and it scared her.
"Seraphine - " Detective Trent began gently, stooping a little in his uncomfortable metal chair to try to make eye contact with her. She kept her eyes closed, face turned away from him as he kept talking. The door burst open and Seraphine jumped, eyes open as she looked around. Sonya stalked towards the table, heels clicking angrily against the floor as she slammed her hands on the table. Seraphine sighed in relief - Sonya would make this all go away, she always would and she always had.
"How dare you?" she hissed, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "She's 17, Don. She's a minor, so you can't question her without her guardian present. You know better." She turned to Seraphine, who was still shaken up and trembling a little. "Are you okay?" Sonya hugged her to her chest, murmuring nonsense words quietly as she stared the detective down, more angry than annoyed. Her hands smoothed her sister's hair, scowling. "We're leaving, yeah? It's going to be okay," she murmured quietly, sighing.
"Can we go home?" Seraphine asked her older sister quietly as she helped her stand up, leaning into her side. Seraphine felt dizzy and off balance, like she could keel right over any minute. Sonya kissed the top of her head as she grabbed the light pink and white backpack off the floor.
"Of course." Sonya turned to the detective, still seething. "Don't think this is over. Not by a long shot. We're talking about this."
"Dr. Waldorf, wait," he tried to interject, but she ignored him, walking out of the room with her sister in tow.
Upon further inspection, however, one would find resilience underneath those ambivalent eyes, a hesitant bravado brewing underneath her quiet, witty quips. Those soft, wiry limbs were slightly muscular, but not overly so, and only noticeable upon exertion. Her delicate feet were hard and bruised, body falling into an ice bath every evening before calling it quits. The normally sweet, gentle girl could turn into the most angry, anxious little thing at the slightest hint of serious trouble, but since she never really went looking for trouble, no one had seen her turn into little more than a doe-eyed, shaking mess that snapped a little more every few seconds.
Perhaps, Detective Donald Trent mused, Seraphine Waldorf was not the small little doll everyone made her out to be.
"You just need to tell me the truth," he prodded, trying not to upset her anymore than he already had. She gnawed on her bottom lip, cringing at the bright lights and how warm it was in the room. Had it always been so warm and bright? Why wouldn't they let her leave? She knew that these were just intimidation tactics, had read and heard about them and knew they were just meant to scare her into confessing and that she couldn't fall for it, but still found her resolve slipping a little. "You're not going to be in any trouble."
"Can I-I have some water, please?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice level. Detective Trent poured her a glass of water, pushing the tall glass towards her silently. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her skirt as she tried not to make eye contact with him. He could see her, see right into her very being and tell she was lying. Could he? Could he see what she was trying to hide? It felt that way, anyway, and it scared her.
"Seraphine - " Detective Trent began gently, stooping a little in his uncomfortable metal chair to try to make eye contact with her. She kept her eyes closed, face turned away from him as he kept talking. The door burst open and Seraphine jumped, eyes open as she looked around. Sonya stalked towards the table, heels clicking angrily against the floor as she slammed her hands on the table. Seraphine sighed in relief - Sonya would make this all go away, she always would and she always had.
"How dare you?" she hissed, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "She's 17, Don. She's a minor, so you can't question her without her guardian present. You know better." She turned to Seraphine, who was still shaken up and trembling a little. "Are you okay?" Sonya hugged her to her chest, murmuring nonsense words quietly as she stared the detective down, more angry than annoyed. Her hands smoothed her sister's hair, scowling. "We're leaving, yeah? It's going to be okay," she murmured quietly, sighing.
"Can we go home?" Seraphine asked her older sister quietly as she helped her stand up, leaning into her side. Seraphine felt dizzy and off balance, like she could keel right over any minute. Sonya kissed the top of her head as she grabbed the light pink and white backpack off the floor.
"Of course." Sonya turned to the detective, still seething. "Don't think this is over. Not by a long shot. We're talking about this."
"Dr. Waldorf, wait," he tried to interject, but she ignored him, walking out of the room with her sister in tow.