#peccum

The air is thick with unspoken, melancholy thoughts and it nearly suffocates Barbara right as she walks in.

Her slippers made almost no noise as she shuffled into the living room, and something turned a dial in her mind. As her eyes landed on the broken glass decorating the wooden floor, she gives silent thanks to herself for actually wearing slippers to leave her bedroom. Having to clean up a broken beer bottle and then having to remove pieces of it from her foot was not an ideal situation, but she's been through it already.

Being in a relationship was like rolling through an acre of broken glass.

Her pale hands threaten to shake as she grabs the dust pan and the broom's handle, but she vows to not break her tough outer shell. No one else is in her apartment, but Barbara made a promise to not cry over what has happened. Not now. Not ever. With quick flicks of her wrist, she piles all of the glass into the dust pan and goes to throw it out. Along with the discarded glass are all of her memories, all of the laughs she's had in the last four months, all of the times she's blushed.

She catches a small fraction of her reflection in those bits of broken glass and barks out a bitter laugh.

Pathetic.

Letting the cleaning supplies fall against the wall, Barbara moves to attend to the broken dining chair. Pushing the couch off of the wall and searching for the two missing legs, she hums a soft, happy tune as she looks. It doesn't match her mood in the slightest but that's okay. Faking all of the joy was the best thing she could do, and it makes her feel better. As soon as the chair's legs are found, she deems the chair not important. Throwing the legs into the trash, she grabs the remaining two legs and picks up the chair. With no rage in her movements, no sadness, no depression, she hits the wall with the chair with a completely numb facial expression.

No one ever really ate at the dining table anyways.

Barbara wasn't really sure if they stopped eating at the table because it began piling up with junk, or if the table started piling up with junk because they stopped eating there.

She throws the broken pieces of the chair into the garbage and trudges back to her room.

The click of her bedroom door locking has never been more satisfying. As her fingertips leave the cold metal of the doorknob, she shakes her head to herself. The temperature in the room seems to have decreased so much that it was finally getting to Barbara, or maybe it was because she was used to her body heat being propelled back to her. Wrapped up in a blanket in her pajamas, close to another body was how she loved to spend her time. But now, as she takes off her robe and gingerly touches the black eye of hers, she realizes

everything is false hope.

Her phone vibrates on her bed-side table.

[TEXT]: barbara please answer me [TEXT]: begging is just the stupid approach, isn't it [TEXT]: do you even miss me?

She feels her eyes puff up and redden with more tears. Her nose feels a lot heavier and as she takes in a deep breath of air, she hits send and shoves her phone under her pillow.

[TEXT]: Not much.

~~

Hours of television doesn't help at all.

When your numb, everyday activities that brought you joy doesn't help at all. Blogging was no fun anymore, because autoBarb had taken over and the regular, human Barbara wasn't up for talking.

Wasn't up for living.

Wasn't up for existing.

What seemed like fun, was joining the rest of the human population in their place. Rotting in the confines of space as cosmic dust, rolling around in the Void that's been torn to shreds by Gavin. Barbara realizes she has the potential to fix the Void, but that involves going face-to-face with someone. That involves speaking to the one person that used to be so close to her. That involves communicating through body language, through simple words, all towards the person that has supplied her with a crippling fear of failure. With a crippling fear of hearing another one of her bones snap.

She's heard that same sound over, and over

and over

and over

and over again.

And now, as the complete situation sunk into her empty pores, Barbara decided she wouldn't mind hearing that sound again.

She wouldn't mind being in agonizing pain, because she's been through that already.

Physically, and emotionally.

Barbara isn't a human being. She's carved of ice and supplied with a heart made of stone, and it's going to take one strong person to melt her. Casper couldn't do it, because he said it himself.

Getting involved with Barbara's timeline had given him all of these problems.

And Barbara agreed.

~~

[TEXT]: i am so, so sorry [TEXT]: don't believe anything i said, and i know i actually [TEXT]: fuck, i actually hurt you. i marked you and i know that but [TEXT]: please let me redeem myself

[TEXT]: Okay.

[TEXT]: what? what does okay mean [TEXT]: can i come home now

[TEXT]: Whatever feels right.

[TEXT]: you just don't care anymore [TEXT]: who carved you with veins made of plaster and a heart made of steel?

[TEXT]: You did. [TEXT]: You absolutely ruined me. [TEXT]: I was a happy, fun, snarky girl. [TEXT]: And you ripped all of that out of me and ate my heart right in front of me. [TEXT]: Come back if you want to. [TEXT]: All of your shit is in a box, in the living room.