Post by Olivia Skye on Feb 2, 2008 21:13:22 GMT
His words served for nothing except to fire up her anger, stoking the coals with a red hot poker.
And any amount of retorts came tumbling onto her tongue; angry, horrible words that would serve to vent her feelings, but wouldn't be good for much else.
Besides... she couldn't bring herself to actually shout them after him.
Because she didn't want him to go, dammit.
She wanted him to come back, and take her in his arms, and kiss her and say that he was sorry, and that he forgave her, and that it would be okay.
But she knew that that was one of those corny dreams that girls loved, little snatches of moments from a romance novel. She'd been taught well enough that guys weren't really like that, that it was never going to happen.
A more realistic wish would be the one where she wished she hadn't pulled away. If she'd hadn't, she'd be just over there with Jack in perfect, total bliss, his hands still burning over her skin, his lips still placing her in a euphoric delirium...
Dammit...
Olivia sank down to the ground, tears still stinging, eyes still burning, her hands raised to her head and pushing back her hair from her face.
Stupid, stupid Olivia.
It was still snowing, the pure white flakes drifting lazily down from the sky and settling on the ground. And suddenly, Olivia was filled with a raging hatred for it: for the cold snowflakes, for the forest ...
A rock lay beside her, and in a quick burst of rage, she'd picked it up and hurled it at a tree, where it made a dull thwack, and fell back to the ground again.
And as it fell onto the soft mud, Olivia's head fell to rest on her knees, where the tears started to flow fluidly.
And any amount of retorts came tumbling onto her tongue; angry, horrible words that would serve to vent her feelings, but wouldn't be good for much else.
Besides... she couldn't bring herself to actually shout them after him.
Because she didn't want him to go, dammit.
She wanted him to come back, and take her in his arms, and kiss her and say that he was sorry, and that he forgave her, and that it would be okay.
But she knew that that was one of those corny dreams that girls loved, little snatches of moments from a romance novel. She'd been taught well enough that guys weren't really like that, that it was never going to happen.
A more realistic wish would be the one where she wished she hadn't pulled away. If she'd hadn't, she'd be just over there with Jack in perfect, total bliss, his hands still burning over her skin, his lips still placing her in a euphoric delirium...
Dammit...
Olivia sank down to the ground, tears still stinging, eyes still burning, her hands raised to her head and pushing back her hair from her face.
Stupid, stupid Olivia.
It was still snowing, the pure white flakes drifting lazily down from the sky and settling on the ground. And suddenly, Olivia was filled with a raging hatred for it: for the cold snowflakes, for the forest ...
A rock lay beside her, and in a quick burst of rage, she'd picked it up and hurled it at a tree, where it made a dull thwack, and fell back to the ground again.
And as it fell onto the soft mud, Olivia's head fell to rest on her knees, where the tears started to flow fluidly.
