Time doesn't stop for the broken-hearted. She dreams on.
Thank you! I own . . . nothing. This is all Stephenie Meyer.
1. Tick-tock, tick-tock
Rating 5/5 Word Count 484 Review this Chapter
“Time passes. Even when it seems impossible.”
“Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise.”
“It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does.”
“Even for me.”
An echo of an older song, she sings her way through life. If you could possibly call it that.
She loved it when he had added a faster tempo, lyrics you thought you'd only here in fairy tales.
Eight words, eight beats, changed the tone entirely.
“It will be as if I never existed”
She wakes, screaming. Not even her subconscious will give her relief. It's barely light outside, another day starting before her eyes. Time doesn't stop for her, and she doesn't even know what day it is. All it is is a label, a square on a calendar. She doesn't stop for time, either.
She walks through large double doors, unaware of the glances being thrown her way. She disagrees with the person who first said 'ignorance is bliss'. Perhaps she had used up too much of hers. For the concept of bliss was not unknown to her.
The teachers have learned by now not to call the name of the student in the back seat. The one who sits alone. The one with an empty chair beside her.
Routine is her friend. Any change brought a baggage of thought. A package deal. She puts herself on auto-pilot, and let routine drive her through the day.
Tick-tock, tick, tock.
She doesn't dwell too much on what to cook. It isn't in her best interest to let her mind wander. She concentrates more than necessary. She is well-practiced. But there isn't much to celebrate for success.
The shower doesn't relax her much. She is becoming increasingly tense as twilight approaches. She refuses to let herself remember his comment on the time of day. But she knows it will slip through her control when she saw him behind her eyelids.
She tosses and she turns, re-living the nightmare each night. And it still continues to terrify her. Even though time moves on, she still to searches. Search until she realizes there was nothing to search for . . .
Tick-tock, tick -
And another small, but significant, part of her dies.
And someone, somewhere, loses their life.
Tick . . . tock
Somewhere a child laughes for the first time.
Somewhere two people fall in love.
Somewhere he cries her name in agony.
Tick . . .