Edward hated going home.
She honestly didn't think of it as such; the word home seemed more to suit the Academy then the bleak apartment in France she'd just got back from; where everything smelled like sad and Soeur was always waiting for her. She absent-mindedly rubbed at her cheek where a purple-blue mark was proudly stamped, kicking through a pile of wet leaves left over from autumn. She wanted to go back to the school, with the students who didn't know her, the teachers who saw right through her - that was where she belonged, where she could live in her own little world without anyone interfering.
But... She dropped down onto a musty smelling log that trembled slightly under her slight figure, plopping her small purple backpack down next to her. She was ashamed of the bruises, though she didn't really know why, ashamed that she'd not stood for herself like she'd been taught. She didn't want anyone to look at her, to make the clucking sound and take her by the hand to get her cleaned up. She wanted...
She wasn't sure what she wanted. She yawned, and hugged her knees, slumping down until she was sitting on the wet ground. It'd been so long since it'd mattered that she wasn't sure she wanted anything anymore. She wondered if that's what she wanted - nothing, to be and hear and see nothing. Nothing... Her nose was smelling salty, and she pushed her fists against her eyes to keep from crying. Nothing might be nice.
She honestly didn't think of it as such; the word home seemed more to suit the Academy then the bleak apartment in France she'd just got back from; where everything smelled like sad and Soeur was always waiting for her. She absent-mindedly rubbed at her cheek where a purple-blue mark was proudly stamped, kicking through a pile of wet leaves left over from autumn. She wanted to go back to the school, with the students who didn't know her, the teachers who saw right through her - that was where she belonged, where she could live in her own little world without anyone interfering.
But... She dropped down onto a musty smelling log that trembled slightly under her slight figure, plopping her small purple backpack down next to her. She was ashamed of the bruises, though she didn't really know why, ashamed that she'd not stood for herself like she'd been taught. She didn't want anyone to look at her, to make the clucking sound and take her by the hand to get her cleaned up. She wanted...
She wasn't sure what she wanted. She yawned, and hugged her knees, slumping down until she was sitting on the wet ground. It'd been so long since it'd mattered that she wasn't sure she wanted anything anymore. She wondered if that's what she wanted - nothing, to be and hear and see nothing. Nothing... Her nose was smelling salty, and she pushed her fists against her eyes to keep from crying. Nothing might be nice.