Historias perdidas: Petals in a storm

Hale, que os cunda. Que estoy estudiando demasiado y me afecta al cerebro.

15. Petals in a storm

Sam had the bad habit of thinking too much. Could she have done something to stop that from happening? Probably. And the regret and remorse were too much of a burden to shake them off just like water off a duck's back. However, she knew what her mother would've said.

'Just forget about it already. What's been done, is done. Dammit, Samantha, why won't you be a little bit more clever?'

It surprised her how she could remember her voice. It was as though she was listening to it.

And now, piece by piece, all the little fragments of her childhood were drifting away, like the sand being washed off by the sea. Slowly, yet steadily. Her father was the first. It had been the earliest hint of what her life would be like. One by one, every single person she loved was beginning to abandon her. Her mother, his old friend Martin...

She was conscious of what she'd done. The final small bits of Helen's friendship were already burning down to ashes. Of course, Samantha didn't accuse her of murder. It hadn't been her, after all, who had tied the rope around her Martin's neck. But if it hadn't been for her, and for most of the people of the town, the man would probably still be alive. And that was what she told the police.

They weren't going to take Helen to jail, obviously. Still, she was attending a really unfortunate and embarrassing trial. They would just scold her a little bit. Sam tried to not feel guilty, even though she was aware of what the woman would think about her reputation being so damaged. It would enrage her.

Yet she didn't feel scared when Helen came to shout at her, to tell Sam she was a liar, and a horrible friend, and that she couldn't believed she had betrayed her, and that maybe it was her fault Martin was dead... Somehow, Samantha managed to not feel hurt. Her old friend was just a girl. She was supposed to be a grown up, but her mind was still the one of a selfish, spoiled child.

When Helen snapped out of her house, Sam still wore a poker face. In fact, she was unable to step out of it. She had lunch with that same numb expression, she read with it, she watched TV with it, dined with it and probably slept with it. It was impossible for her to figure out for how long did she wear such a terrible mask. Many times she thought it would appear she didn't care about what happened.

But it didn't matter. The fact was, nothing mattered. The problem, actually, resided in such reality. Every day dawn broke, and then twilight, and the sun rose in the east and set in the west. And meanwhile, their lives were as fragile as petals in a storm.

Things could've gone much better. However, chance was fickle, and it played with them just as if they were toys, puppets. It decided to put every obstacle and every oportunity. And, if it pleased, it decided which soldier fell.

Reflejos: Frozen (BONUS)

Lo prometido es deuda y más vale tarde que nunca y blablabla. La verdad es que no tengo excusas para justificar por qué lo he subido medio año después de cuando dije que lo iba a hacer, salvo que no tenía ganas de hacer el dibujo. Probablemente Augi no se acuerde de que me lo pidió o quizá ni siquiera lo supiera. El caso es que tomé nota y lo he hecho.

Los próximos que subiré, si alguna vez me dan ganas de dibujar de nuevo, será de Enredados, tal y como me pidió Irene (no me equivoco, ¿verdad? Es decir, no me comenta tanta gente xD).

Siento que el dibujo no sea de los mejores que he hecho pero lo hice ayer muy tarde y estaba cansada y buafff.

No trabajéis mucho que eso ya lo tengo que hacer yo -.- No podéis imaginaros cómo odio todo ahora mismo. ¡Hasta la próxima y feliz Navidad!

Historias perdidas: Cry

Sé que ha sido mucho tiempo sin noticias. Iba a hacer los dibujos, lo juro, pero me rajé. En fin, últimamente no he estado muy fina, y sigo sin estarlo, así que intentad no tenerlo muy en cuenta y no me juzguéis demasiado.

Voy a continuar con esto, que sí, hace un montón que subí la última parte. Espero que os acordéis. Esto me está llevando más de lo que esperaba, y está siendo más largo de lo que tenía planeado. Por lo menos espero que os esté gustando.

Probablemente tenga fallos, como siempre. Intentaré poner la excusa de que estoy muy cansada.

14. Cry

Her car was already repaired. She had to admit Jordan was quite a serious and professional man, even though it didn't look like his garage was full of cars. Surely, he finished his work at least two days before what she was expecting, and it didn't look like he was too busy.

And so she was ready to go. But she had no clue about what could be her next move. She guessed she'd need to ask around. Probably try to find out where his son was studying. Maybe she could begin with the same school Ray was going to.

Samantha thanked the man before getting in the car, then started the engine and put the pedal down. She had missed the sensation of the machine obeying her orders.

Suddenly she remembered she had no idea, either, of where was the child studying. For a second her mind considered searching for any school around the area, but finally decided she wanted to see the little man, who had unexpectedly become her only friend. Yet, as she didn't know where he lived - the fact of knowing so little overwhelmed her-, she only had one option left: the beach. The place where she found him first, and possibly the place where she would find him now.

Heading to the beach, she got to the conclusion the idea was quite ridiculous. What were the chances of finding him there at that exact time? Thinking about it, she had never been with him at that hour. One o'clock, mostly. Around lunch time. He should be home, certainly. Still, Sam found out she didn't care. She wanted to breath in the salty air anyway.

A calming aura surrounded her. Even though she hadn't expected it, the city was changing her.

However, that feeling didn't last for too long. She saw a moving shadow out of the corner of her eye, and so she looked for a second out of the car window. It took a second for her brain to process the information, but when it did, she automatically stepped on the brakes, moving a few inches forward. Making sure no car was coming behind hers, she went back and carefully left her vehicle on the side of the road. Then she stepped out and moved towards the small, broken silhouette sitting beneath the tree.

'Ray?' she slowly began. A pale, scared face looked up from his knees. 'What are you doing up here, all alone?'

Without saying a word, he pulled out his leg. Not a scream came out of his mouth, although his ankle had an awful purple colour. And then, in a soft voice which seemed like a warm spring breeze, he mumbled: 'I fell. I couldn't move, so I was waiting for the pain to go away.'

'Oh my God... That will not go away just waiting! Let me get you home... Anyway, how are you not crying?'

That time, the serenity in the child's face scared her. It wasn't normal.

'I've seen my mother cry. You know, Sam? I felt useless, because I couldn't stop her pain. I don't want to do that to others. So I won't cry.'