#ccrdeliagoode

THIS WAS BECOMING MESSIER THAN SHE HAD EVER ANTICIPATED.  when jean had ventured into this relationship, she had wanted it to be lighthearted.  it was an escape from her real life with michael --- it was her CHANCE to be a different person ; to be dianne.  and yet here she is, a bouquet of flowers in her hands, an expression of true sadness across her neatly painted features.  this had NOT been her intention and yet, she couldn’t help but feel responsible.   cordelia had spotted her that night, had gestured for her to come and see her, had attempted to entice jean ( or DIANNE ) into the bathrooms and had consequently been assaulted.  if jean had followed, if she had waved back ... acknowledged that she had seen cordelia, she wouldn’t be here in this gloomy fucking hospital today.  CORDELIA  WOULDN’T  HAVE  BEEN  HURT.  

she’d been lurking around the hospital for a good hour now, only entering the room when she had seen fiona leave for the evening.  THE  LAST  THING  SHE  WANTED  TO  DO  WAS  GET CAUGHT.  fiona was the last person she wants to know about this sordid affair.  nobody could know about dianne --- not anybody from jean’s REAL LIFE.    as she enters,  there’s a faux smile upon her lips, though she doesn’t know why --- after all, cordelia couldn’t see her.  she was putting on a brave face for ( NOTHING. )  

          “ cordelia ... it’s DIANNE.  “   

her tone is soft, gentle ... the same smile residing upon her features as she takes the seat beside the hospital bed.  “ i came as soon as i could.  i ... heard about your accident in the newspaper. i couldn’t believe it was you at first. “  lie ; she had been there.  she was at the scene of the crime, she was hiding in the shadows .... she knows cordelia had seen her.  “ i brought you some flowers. there’s a variety, really. roses, daisies ... lilies. i wasn’t sure what you’d prefer so i picked them all. “ she sets them down on the bed, just beside  THE BLONDE.   and when she sees her, when she truly sees the damage up close and personal, the smile is forced off her features.  there’s a shaky breath that leaves her lips, her tone shifting into one of  A N G U I S H. 

                     ‘cos we’re the masters of OUR OWN life.                                          we’re the captains of our own  FATE. 💖

FIONA GOODE never shut up about her daughter.  cordelia this, cordelia that –––––––––––– jean almost felt as though she knew the woman ; as if she was a part of her own life ( which was the case for the family of most of her patients. )  but her interest in cordelia was different.  herself & fiona would have these sessions every week, each and every one of them about how cordelia didn’t appreciate fiona –––––– how she had potential but never seemed to own it.  it was a constant cycle of disappointed motherhood and jean was addicted. she was obsessed with a woman she had never met.  until today. 

she’d told michael she’d be home late ––––––– a girls night around larin’s apartment, a few drinks ... the usual. it was one of her many lies, just to keep him sweet –––– just to fool him thinking that she remained a perfect wife and mother when in reality, the truth was much worse.  she was a liar ; a manipulator.  DRESSED in a pair of jeans and one of her best blouses, she enters the bar.  it’s small and intimate, somewhere she knew she could get used to.  it’s the bar fiona had discussed in their meetings, the bar her daughter visited every friday evening with her husband, hank.  heeled shoes carry her over towards the bar, ordering herself a bourbon before turning to face the rest of the room, making eye contact with a few strangers before settling her sights on the blonde –– the woman fiona had described countless times.  and next to her is her husband, the man fiona goode moaned and groaned about every time they saw one another. delia is too good for hank, he’s not worth her time. and from first glance, jean has to agree - he isn’t worth the time of a woman as radiant as CORDELIA. 

as drink is placed on the bar behind her, she quickly turns, thanking the bartender before downing the beverage in one swift swallow. and then she turns again, taking note when cordelia rises to leave for the bathroom and follows in tow.    she places bag beside the basin, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.  what is she doing here ? what has she become ? her life is a game, a split REALITY.  she doesn’t recognise the woman staring back at her, the narcissist that’s taken over her brain ; her mind.  but she welcomes her anyway - it seems easier that way.  

Send ✉ for an 2 AM text

[ MESSAGE SENT TO : cordelia 💕  ] cordelia ... it’s dianne. 

[ MESSAGE SENT TO : cordelia 💕 ]  i hope you don’t mind me messaging you so early in the morning ... i just had to. i couldn’t wait until the morning. 

[ MESSAGE SENT TO : cordelia 💕  ] would you like to grab a coffee with me tomorrow? say, about 4pm? i’d like to get to know you more. 

◟  ♕ *  .  °   ›  ⊱ ━━  SEND ONE OF MY MUSES A SYMBOL.

love me a little || accepting! - @ccrdeliagoode @terriblefailures