Misremembered Daylight, Remembered Moonlight
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Chapter 5: The past always follows - HAUNTING
The life of those who live beyond that of the humans which surround them can be complicated. Many tend to grow close to the few they know won't leave them behind, but longer relationships can tend to try a patience that was not meant to last…
Things have improved recently, I suppose I had gotten so used to sitting around and letting the days pass me by that I no longer had any drive to do anything. Burning my garden and severing that frayed bond had been quite freeing, it had also given me a new project to work on, instead of an old project that had grown far beyond its worth, something that just existed to stare at in disgust.
My new garden has been growing quite well, I’ve started small with just a few beds of my favourite: roses. It's hard to remember but I remember being given many roses back home, it was always either mother or that flirt Lucius; they could never take a hint despite my best efforts, and despite that, I still appreciated every single one. I often find myself missing those days, but I have to tell myself that it’s selfish of me to think I still deserve them, I have to tell myself that such things are best left forgotten - Even with that I still love them, the roses I mean, that skirt chaser was more of a strong friendship.
Sometimes I have to remember why I live here, why I am to be with nothing but my own creations; a little indulgence can help, even if it hurts. Otherwise the garden remains untouched, empty beds of soil segregated from where they belong, moved to fulfil the purpose of another. Next I’ll plant something new, if the garden is to keep helping me move forward, it’ll have to not rely on that which came before. Of course, as things improve, that insufferable woman, Helsing, just has to show her face.
This morning there was a knock at the door, thanks to scheduling the contractors I knew it was getting close to *that* day of the year, but I still chose to let it sneak up on me; I didn’t want to think about it, think about *her*. That smile on her face as I opened the door, practiced and cold; at least she doesn’t bother hiding her intentions. She complimented the garden, even told me she likes the new door - This woman, this bastard angel, in a prior life I would have called her a great colleague, perhaps even a friend, *maybe* even something more; but that life is behind the both of us. I told her exactly what I was thinking, she had ruined my life, I had taken her charity, there was nothing more for either of us to give or take. She waited for me to finish, she then had the gall to open her mouth, had the gall to ask me for help - Something about her daughter, I told her that’s no longer my problem, just hers, she told me to have a good day, she left without another word.
For the rest of the day I had stewed in my own room, each year I tell her she is not welcome, yet each year she returns. This is the first time she’s come here and asked to take instead of to give; I’m not sure if that means anything has changed between us during the silence of the last year.