What's wrong with us when happy hurts

At the top of my lungs my screams sink to the bottom

Sara

Two months ago:

Sara's eyes were fixated on the object in her hands. It didn't matter that she had long since lost her focus on it. Her thoughts were going a million miles a minute. There were too many to remember them all, but her mind kept on going back to the same ones every couple of minutes.

How did this happen?

How could this have happened?

Why was this happening to HER?

To THEM?

And why now?

Maybe in a different life... maybe even the one she's had before three arrows pierced her chest and sent her tumbling off of a rooftop, just to be swallowed, and then for her empty husk to be spit out by the Lazarus pit, alive but filled with demons.

If she had made different choices then, if they hadn't needed the League's help, if she had stayed with Ollie... maybe... but even then...

It was too much, all of this was just too much.

She felt her lungs constrict, her throat close up, she started to struggle to pull air into her lungs. Black dots started to appear in her vision and still her eyes stayed locked on the object in her hands. Her attempts to draw in air became more desperate until she suddenly felt bile rise where the air couldn't go. This led to her half leaping, half dragging her exhausted body from her position sitting with her back to the door forward to the toilet. Emptying her stomach of the little content that was inside.

This was how Ollie found her. The thought of how he got passed the locked door crossed her mind for a moment before her body demanded her full attention again. She registered that Ollie was talking to her, his voice was soothing, but she couldn't make out the words. His large hand was stroking her back while the other one was moving the hair from her face. She was sure that there was bile in it, but he didn't seem to mind soiling his hand. It wasn't until later when her body stopped demanding to get rid of what her empty stomach couldn't provide that Ollie's hand left her back. She could see it in the corner of her eye as it moved towards the floor to pick up the object she must have dropped next to the toilet, in her desperation to reach the bowl in time.

"Sara? What...?" the voice of her most treasured friend was quiet and disbelieving.

"We fucked up." Hers to the point and unforgiving, although hoarse from throwing up and lack of air. Because that was the conclusion she reached. They've fucked up. For the first time in over ten years they managed to fuck up majorly and irreparably. This was a mess they couldn't undo. Nothing that could be fixed or avoided or undone. No apology and conversation to make things right again, or at least better. There was no easy fix no matter how much she wanted there to be because there was no choice, no matter what people said. Her hands could not be coated in this particular shade of red. This was one life that she was not able to take. Trained assassin, merciless vigilante, blood hungry demon, ice cold killer... defeated by an unborn child.

Having a child should be a happy occasion and bring the new parents joy and excitement. Yet all she could feel was dread, numbness and despair, as the realization that she would have a baby set in.

She couldn't be a mom. She wasn't a mom. She was a mess. She was broken.

Humpty Dumpty who sat on and fell off the Empire State Building instead of a wall. Humpty Dumpty who had more than one fall and kept on falling after every time she got back up. And all the king's horses and all the king's man could never, ever put her back together again. She had shattered into too many pieces when she fell after three arrows had pierced her chest. So many pieces that not even the Lazarus pit managed to put them back together again, or it did, but the pieces no longer fit right and some of them got lost forever.