Janelle Tristanson
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Anima Eterna Graduate
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Ran along many moores, walked through many doors, the place I wanna be is the place I can call mine.
Joined: Jan 2006
Gender: Female 
Posts: 289
Location: In Someone Else's Bed
|  | Won't Go Home Without You {Ana}
« Thread Started on Aug 3, 2007, 6:21pm » | |
((August 3rd, 2019.))
”What do you mean you’re taking them back?” she essentially screamed, tempted to slap that woman for even coming back to Italy. Then again, she’d apparently never even left.
Saying this was all a huge downer would’ve been an understatement so great, someone’s head might’ve exploded. And she had this throbbing in her temples that just screamed it’d be hers.
Her mouth was dry as she stared at them, all fifteen done with school and looking horribly dejected as they started to pile into the vans waiting to take them to the airport. “Oh come on, Janelle. Seriously? Are you that fucking stupid? Do you – “
“Don’t swear in front of them!” she hissed, staring down the shorter woman with nothing short of fury in her eyes, resisting the urge to slam a fist through Billie’s mid-section as she clenched both fist and jaw. This wasn’t fair. She’d… she’d done everything she could for them, she’d been trying to give them these lives she couldn’t have had, she’d… oh God, she’d done everything to get the funding, that was for sure.
She’d done everything, and apparently, that wasn’t enough for life. Because life was doing its usual thing and being a total bitch about this.
“Anyway. What kind of mother would have been to hand some eighteen year old girl fifteen kids? Thanks for taking care of them for a year, though. Dunno how you got the means, and I hardly care. Sort of impressed. Anyway – Jaime, get in that van – we’re off. You can call them at this number. It’s where we’ll be staying once we get back to England,” she stated without warmth, flicking a piece of paper at her firstborn before turning around and proceeding to walk away, leaving the ex-Leale to hastily snatch at the fluttering number so it wouldn’t be picked up by the wind and blown into a nearby inferno, or something.
“Oh, and Janelle?” She didn’t want to, but she glanced upwards, feeling an unwelcome sting behind her eyes as she did. “They’re better off away from this place and other freaks like you.”
She would have killed her then and there, had that been any sort of real option. She settled for lunging forward, hearing the last of the van’s doors slam closed as her hands met the tinted glass. Pressing her forehead to it, the ex-Canadian squinted, saw her family cramped in there together, and felt as though someone had just kicked her in the gut.
Trying to smile, the eldest Tristanson mouthed the words ‘love you’ a few times, pounding weakly once or twice on the window as the van started to roll away. She didn’t bother chasing after it – she’d never been that fast.
Watching that thing hit the horizon was the hardest part.
The three and a half hours she essentially stood rooted to that spot, waiting for one of them to come running back to her felt like two minutes. She would’ve stayed the whole day then, you know, even as it started to rain, some torrential downpour or another apparently lending itself to her here just for a bit of pathetic fallacy.
She sobbed openly for another hour, kicked at trees in spite of the fact that it made her feet hurt as she slowly walked back to the school. Yelling at inanimate objects until she didn’t have the voice power to do so anymore was pretty relieving, too, though nothing was plugging that empty hole someone had just blasted into her chest.
Had she been shot again? There wasn’t a bullet hole. But it sure felt like she had been. Only this time? Yeah, nobody’d been there to save her, and that piece of lead had gone right on through, taking a bit of her with it.
If she had to guess an organ, she’d say it’d been the heart. Maybe even the stomach, since this new emptiness seemed to expand down there.
The half-Hispanic woman took a shuddering sigh, wiping her nose on a drenched, bare arm as she stumbled back into the school, simply collapsing against a wall once inside, sliding downwards, and sitting there trying to numb herself for a while.
Everything she’d done… she’d done it for them. And her mother was able to say ‘nah, just kidding’ and take them away? After all of that?
Normal people would’ve thought this injustice. Janie? She shivered. She sat. She thought about her friends, how many of them she wouldn’t want to see her right about then, and then she stood to try and crawl off somewhere more private. Possibly to die. Most likely just until she could appear a bit tougher.
Alright. She was standing. Drenched, realizing her tank top had been white (of course, that was hardly and issue, here), looking to her pale blue skirt that’d been darkened a few hues by the rain, to her sandals and, at last, around for a place to hide.
She needed a brief hideaway to regain her sanity. Somewhere nobody else was going to look. Oh hell, if only they had a random closet.
She ducked into the bathrooms, because they seemed fairly safe, and locked herself in a stall, fully prepared not to leave as she paced the toilet.
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![[image]](http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n108/xxAlibee/janie.jpg)
-Janelle Gabrielle Tristanson- |
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