No! [she stomps her foot. That's not it! It can't be it! Why would he go when all they needed was him?! When they could have had a happy home?! How could he leave and just say it was for their benefit?!
The bottle smashes to the ground and she breaks it with her heel, over and over, listening to the glass shatter and grind. She hates it! She hates it! She hates it so much!
So many years wasted! So much gone and not coming back!
All because she never asked. All because he never told.
All because--
No.
NO!]
AHHH!
[she storms through the estupido door and into the swamp, not caring if she sinks, not caring if she's attacked or lost or anything. Not even caring that she's not even dressed properly.
There is too much and nothing to be done about any of it]
[Old instincts crawl up his spine, but he grips his arms to keep from turning around. Its quiet for a long time after she storms out, and he doesn't move for much longer after that.
The sun was sparkling on the water when he finally moved, only to push a few of the large bits of glass away with a toe. A song catches in his throat, but he shakes it off. Letting it sink back into the dark cavity of his stomach.
There were other songs out there, other songs to sing and use...it had worked for Ernesto, hadn't it? He still had the shop to pay for; he'd been unable to give his family what they needed while alive...he wasn't going to ruin that chance again.]
Come on.
[He picks up the guitar, sits on the edge of the swamp and begins to play. Old songs, none his own but good ones. Ones that played to people's hearts and smiles.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: 12/18 6pm
I never said it was the smartest reason. It was a mistake. I thought it was for the best, but I was wrong. I realized it and tried to go home.
[He pokes the tequila glass with his toe. Heaven and Earth.]
but bad luck...
[Hector stood up suddenly, moving towards the open part of the cabin.]
All I can say is I'm sorry. It won't fix anything, for...either of us but...I am.
12/18 6pm
The bottle smashes to the ground and she breaks it with her heel, over and over, listening to the glass shatter and grind. She hates it! She hates it! She hates it so much!
So many years wasted! So much gone and not coming back!
All because she never asked. All because he never told.
All because--
No.
NO!]
AHHH!
[she storms through the estupido door and into the swamp, not caring if she sinks, not caring if she's attacked or lost or anything. Not even caring that she's not even dressed properly.
There is too much and nothing to be done about any of it]
Re: 12/18 6pm
The sun was sparkling on the water when he finally moved, only to push a few of the large bits of glass away with a toe. A song catches in his throat, but he shakes it off. Letting it sink back into the dark cavity of his stomach.
There were other songs out there, other songs to sing and use...it had worked for Ernesto, hadn't it? He still had the shop to pay for; he'd been unable to give his family what they needed while alive...he wasn't going to ruin that chance again.]
Come on.
[He picks up the guitar, sits on the edge of the swamp and begins to play. Old songs, none his own but good ones. Ones that played to people's hearts and smiles.
He needed to talk to the Profe again.]