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After everything that happened, after the lives she had ruined… Misty was not certain on how to best approach returning to life. For good this time. Not in the way of the sick and twisted resurrection of the Dark Signers but as a normal, ordinary person.
So, she took some time off.
Again.
But this time, she didn’t drive herself over the edge in grief. Instead, she spent it far more wisely, sitting around and reading self help books, making dinner from scratch for herself and Toby. It was hard but she hoped that it would be worth it now that she knew what the other side was like and that place was oh so terrible.
It was dark. And lonely. She was cold, freezing, even, chilled to the bone which all but withered as she was a walking corpse. She was hungry all the time, not in her stomach, she could want for nothing as food and drink, but in her heart. Tempers were short. Everything except destruction was meaningless but the meaning was wanton apocalypse so everyone would be just as miserable as them.
Going in between such sensations, it was difficult for Misty to adjust. The day could be long and warm and she would find a reason to wear stockings and a cardigan. But eventually, Misty did adjust.
It didn’t go back to being the same as it was, in her more innocent and more vulnerable years but it was better than where it had been when she had been consumed by the insanity which was the curse of the Dark Signer. The new normal that she now had with herself and her brother was fragile but it was all she had and Misty knew she would go to any length to adjust, to make amends.
Hence why she felt such a way unto Carly.
Oh, goodness, Carly, she had ruined Carly’s life. Her hands had caressed her face, her eyes had foreseen her future, and all of her had condemned Carly to death.
From what Misty had heard, Carly didn’t remember much. For the better, it made Misty a smidgen bit jealous but she considered the weight of her memories a penance to move forward but so as to not make it a ball and chain, she had to recall her sins wisely. They had to be her reason to keep living, her reason be kinder, not only to others but herself.
Yet despite such resolve and the feelings in her heart, Misty found herself unable to make the next step. To find herself in front of Carly, hold her tight, cry into her neck and shoulders, inhale her smell of a cheap car air freshener, and apologise.
Carly had been her closest companion through the trial of the Dark Signers. They had not been compatible as they had been in life, demure and pleasant, instead they had brought out the worst in each other but even then, Misty had felt something striking unto Carly. Just as she had that fateful night at the gala.
Misty had been so taken with Carly, how she was everything that she wasn’t.
From her powder blue dress with spaghetti straps that were falling down, her geeky bifocal glasses, and her energy. It had been vibrant in all the wrong ways for something so high society but utterly refreshing for Misty. She had been around people who were too fake and too stuck up for so long, she could finally laugh a genuine laugh around Carly.
She wanted to get to know her better, for the better.
But now look at them… They were very different people in life, on different trajectories. So the best Misty could offer Carly was that distance. Maybe that connection was fleeting for a reason, maybe her feelings of a crush were based on nothing. She didn’t want to re-enter Carly’s life and make things worse for her even though Misty had only the best intentions.
Misty would completely understand if there was some lingering resentment or loathing in Carly’s heart unto her, even if she didn’t understand it herself. All because Misty had those feelings towards herself. She hated who she was when she was blindly, madly consumed by grief and rage. That was not who she was and so, she loathed those actions in hindsight.
Though, foresight - if it could be called as such - plagued Misty just as much. She just wasn’t sure if it was as much foresight as it was doubt and anxiety.
What if her touch were to reawaken the recollection of death in Carly? What if Carly was purposefuly avoiding her and it was not just Misty’s indecision and inaction which had yet to bring them back together again. What if they bored each other and had nothing to tether them together except for tragedy? What if, what if, what if…?
Those questions haunted Misty. She could spiral over and over again, round and round Misty could go if she obsessed over them too often, too in depth. So, Misty left well enough alone even if her heart yearned for more that she knew she could not, or perhaps should not, have.
Or, well, not quite.
Well enough alone still had its connection, it seemed. Misty didn’t meddle overtly but she wished the best for Carly, for her dream of photography and journalism. Misty was a model. It wasn’t quite a match made in heaven but from the shadows, Misty put in a good word here and there. On cigarette breaks or when she held hair back over the toilet’s bowl, she would mention a good word for a good photographer who was down on her luck and needed some small time gigs here and there.
She hoped that would help, that it would be enough. Aside from hovering at this fringe where she not quite manipulated things, Misty wanted to cheer Carly on and wanted her to make the best of her new lease on life and resurrection.
That, truly, would be more than enough for Misty to know that wherever Carly was, she was happy under these blue skies and smiling in the sunshine.