FicWad

A/N: So I created this character with a fairly detailed background and wanted to write about her, but for some reason I couldn't figure out how to write her story, so I eventually gave up. But then we got a short story writing assignment for English class, and when I was brainstorming this idea came up and I scribbled down the first two paragraphs, then stayed up until midnight finishing it, and now I've decided to post it here.

It might possibly be the first of a series, or a stand alone. If anything in here is confusing, please let me know and I'll try to make it clearer.

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A dark, solitary figure made its way down the deserted street, past abandoned buildings that loomed over any travelers like great beasts poised to attack. Its path wandered back and forth at random. When the figure stumbled under the yellow glow of a streetlight, it was revealed to be a young woman in her early twenties. She was dressed, despite the warmth of the night, in long black pants tucked into black boots, and a black coat that reached her ankles. Her white hair fell to her shoulders in disarray; it had not been washed for some time. Tinted glasses concealed her eyes, and one pale hand clutched a mostly empty bottle of amber liquid.

The woman paused under the light, looking around but not seeming to really see anything. Though the night around her was silent, in the distance a cat yowled, and police sirens wailed as if in response. Then, closer to the woman, in an alley up ahead, a crash sounded. The woman jumped and swivelled towards the sound, nearly losing her balance in the process. A man stepped out of the alley. The woman squinted at him, then smiled.

"Hey, Mark," she called to him. "Bit late for a walk, ain't it?"

The man made no response, only stepped closer to her until he, too, was lit by the streetlight. He was the same height as the woman, but because of her extreme thinness he looked much larger next to her. His brown hair fell in front of his angry blue eyes.

"You haven't come home for the past three days," he said, in a voice that was half-scolding and half-furious. He eyed the bottle in her hand with distaste.

The woman just blinked at him. "I don't have a home anymore," she said. "Remember?"

Mark let out a frustrated sigh. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" he snapped, gesturing sharply at the bottle. "Do you think this is what she wanted you to become?"

The woman flinched, though the man hadn't made a single move towards her. "Don't talk about her," she whispered, so low the words were almost lost in the deafening silence. "Just leave me alone."

"No," Mark said, his fierce expression not diminishing the slightest bit. "It's been two years, Aries! Two years that you've spent getting drunk and starting fights and God knows what else, two years you've refused to face what happened. What would Carlita think if she saw you like this? What would she think if she knew you were destroying yourself because you were too afraid to live?"

A change came over the woman at Mark's words. She straightened, her swaying stopped, and the carefree look on her face was replaced by one of rage. "I don't know what the hell she'd think," Aries cried, "because she's /dead/!"

The word hung between them, condemning, absolute. /Dead/. Gone, passed away, in a better place, all these sugar coated words meant the same thing - dead, and never coming back.

Mark was taken aback at Aries' outburst, but he didn't back down. "It doesn't mean that you should throw your life away," he began, but he was interrupted.

"Doesn't it?" Aries asked. "I loved her, I lived for her, and now she's dead."

"Dammit, Aries!" Mark shouted. "Would you for once in your life listen to someone beside yourself?"

"No, you listen!" Aries yelled back. "This is what I've chosen! This is my life, and my decision, and you don't have any say in it!"

"So the fact that my sister and I took you in counts for nothing?" Mark asked coldly. "The fact that we've tried our best to help you get back on your feet, given you food and clothes and asked for nothing in return - that doesn't mean anything to you?" He took a step towards Aries -

/Crash/.

Aries held the broken remains of the bottle threateningly at the man in front of her. "Don't come another step closer," she warned.

"Or what?" Mark wanted to know. "You're so drunk I doubt you'd be able to hit me if I was right in front of you."

Aries paused, her hand wavering. Then she lifted the bottle to her own throat.

Mark's eyes widened. "Aries," he said, shifting his weight as if to take another step.

"Don't!" Aries shouted. "If come any closer I'll kill myself!"

Mark stayed where he was, frozen. His gaze flicked up to Aries' desperate face, then down to the hand that held the sharp, jagged edge of the bottle to her neck. "Aries," he said carefully, "think about what you're doing. I just want to help you."

Aries let out a high, brittle laugh that seemed to shatter in the air between them. "Help?" she said humorlessly. "I'm beyond help, Mark. My heart died with Carlita that day, my body just hasn't caught up yet."

Mark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Aries," he said, almost pleading, "stop looking for excuses to die. She would have wanted you to live -"

"Don't talk to me about what she would have wanted!" Aries' hand was shaking now, the edge of the bottle coming dangerously close to her throat. "Just shut up! Shut up!"

Mark wavered, not sure if he wanted to risk Aries hurting herself before he managed to get the bottle away from her. Aries saw his uncertainty, and her anger grew even more.

"You think I won't do it?" she screamed. Her glasses hid her eyes, but Mark knew from earlier episodes that they would be wild and bloodshot, the pupils mere pinpoints of blackness nearly lost in the blue-violet irises. "What do I have to live for? Everything, everything I loved died with her! All I have left is memories that hurt so much I have to drown them with cheap alcohol, and start fights just to have something to do so I don't go insane, except that it isn't working and I see her everywhere and hear her everywhere and /I don't know what to do/!"

Aries was on her knees, the bottle discarded beside her, her hands now at her face trying unsuccessfully to hold back the sobs that shook her thin frame. Mark knelt by her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He didn't say 'It gets better with time', because it doesn't, it only gets worse, the pain building and building until it threatens to overwhelm everything else. He didn't say 'It'll be okay', because tragedies happen every day, broken hearts and bodies and souls, a cycle of lies and tears that no one can stop, only avoid for a little while. He just remained beside her, silent, and yet saying more than can be expressed in words.

How long they stayed there neither one could remember afterwards. All they could recall was the night that was once again silent around them, the purging that comes from finally letting the grief take over for one short moment, the anchor that comfort from a friend provides.

Eventually Aries' sobs slowed and Mark helped her to her feet, supporting her as she leaned on him. "Come on," he said softly. "I'll take you home."

Aries didn't protest, didn't remind him that she hadn't had a home in the past two years since the one person she'd loved with all her heart had died. She just nodded and said, "Yeah. Home."