Ruth was drowning in silence.
The fallen angel laid there on her bed, her arm dangling off to the side as she blankly stared at the textured ceiling, watching the tiny shapes and shadows slowly dance as the day slowly rotted into night. Ruth was never sure what she could think about the silence. On the one hand, it was comforting, it allowed Ruth to get to know her surroundings better without interruption and she could hear her own thoughts with clarity, without the chorus of the thoughts and wailings of her congregation and Him.
On the other hand...she could hear her own thoughts with clarity, so nothing could get in the way of the guilt that stained her very soul. Sometimes she could hear her stepsiblings, crying out in pain as the congregation persecuted them instead of her, as she fell away as a ragged mess of music, cloud-flesh, and fading light. Alone she fell through the heavens, alone she found her way to the ironside, and she was alone when she was found by Malina.
"You lucky bitch", she once said to Rose. Was it Rose, or was it Cassandra? Almvieg? Some other....bit? Facet? Sister? Sister probably worked for them, actually, but no matter what noun she chose, no matter how often she reminded herself of the equally hellish durance that all of them suffered, perhaps more so than what Ruth endured, Ruth still envied them. Along with being an excellent singer, warrior, and also being really, really pretty, they never had to endure the crush of silence or lonleness. With that, Ruth could only come to one conclusion.
"I'm really fucked up," she confessed to the ceiling with a depressed sigh. She would feel more comfortable being a figment of a person stuck inside of a bunch of girl scouts that would NEVER get privacy from one another rather than being her own fully realized person...cloud...thing. Just..what the fuck. What. The. Fuck. Was she really that weak, that she preferred the idea of just being a-a wisp or something just to get away from all of this dumb guilt and angst?
More silence followed.
"Fuck," she uttered when she realized that yea, she kinda was. Rose and her sisters didn't really have a choice in the matter so they (as far as Ruth knew) reconciled their differences while Ruth betrayed her family to avoid being like them. What was the difference, that they were probably better company than the congregation? Yea...yea it kinda was the difference. If her dad and the rest of the congregation weren't such arrogant brain dead fun hating assholes blindly following a false rapist god, Ruth probably wouldn't have fought so hard for her independence.
Ruth turned over in her bed, trading the endless ranges of inverted mountains for the flat white expanse of the wall, and the Ruth shaped shadow that slowly traversed over it.
Were they weak for not escaping on their own? No...because they survived at all. She was weak for wanting to throw off her responsibilities, her consequences, her emotional scars because she wanted a friendlier version of her durance. Too weak to help herself, much less help her friend(s)...not that she(they?) needed it.
Or did she(they)?
With a sigh, Ruth got dressed and headed out. So maybe it was a shitty start to reassert her individuality by trying to be more of a friend to Ms. I'm-a-literal-army-of-perfect-souls, but it was a start. After that, then...no. One step at a time, she told herself as she waked out the door, absentmindedly whistling the opening bars to "Enjoy the Silence."
North West of Bay side, Brunswick village is the hip and up and coming neighborhood with small restaurants, coffee shops and corner stores. The old rail road once went through Brunswick but was decommissioned in the late 40s, now the Caboose and a few of the older passenger cars serve as a quint restaurant and hang out, called "The Tug"
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