Possibility

Him

In books, the girl was always loved in the end. Loved, liked or wanted. She'd get some kind of magical transformation and she'd be noticed at last. Or at the very least, she learned to love herself. You felt like those kinds of endings were the best. Yes- it must feel wonderful to have your feelings be reciprocated- but god- what might it be like to love yourself? What could it feel like to look in the mirror and not want to break it? To look down and not want to rip the fat off your damned body. For once in your life you wanted to love who you were- to love your body and all it's curves and edges. Didn't you deserve that?

Didn't everyone?

Apparently not. The moment your mother left, you practically tore that dress off your body. In the process you smeared your make-up and messed up your hair. You threw the dress into your closet, wanting it as from from you as you could manage. You wanted it gone- you wanted it off. This wasn't fair- life was so cruel to you. It gave you something- something to make you happy, and then it took you away. You had liked your dress when you first tried it on. You liked how it hugged your curves in the right places- it made you feel beautiful for once, but now? You hated it. It didn't look right- it didn't feel right.

You didn't feel right.

You were so happy- so ecstatic and bubbly- and now you were crashing. Why had you let this happen? You knew- you knew it from the fucking start how this would go- how it would end. So why- fucking why, had you let this go on? Why did you hang on to false hope?

You weren't sure. It didn't make sense- none of it did. You had always known what the outcome would be and yet somehow, Peter managed to make you hope for a little while.

And then it broke.

"God fucking dammit!", you hissed, kicking the wall of your apartment building.

Somehow, you thought it'd be a good idea to make some hot cocoa for yourself. Something warm and smooth- something to soothe the ache inside. Something that wouldn't be too heavy or too much. However, you were out of milk- and you weren't about to make it with water. You thought about just leaving it be and going to bed with nothing- but you really wanted some hot cocoa and the nearest bodega wasn't that far. So, you pulled on a hoodie and some sweats, not bothering with the smeared make-up on your face as you grabbed your wallet and left.

Now here you were, gallon of milk in hand, locked out of your own apartment. You'd left your keys on the kitchen counter and locked only the bottom lock as you left. Wonderful right? Now you'd have to stand here, looking like a mess, until your Mom came back- or until you found a way to pull down the ladder from the fire escape. Your window was unlocked, and if you could just find a way up there, you'd be free. For now though, you couldn't reach the ladder. You didn't want to wait in the hallway because your neighbor was nosey as hell and would surely see you- so you stood out here, wondering why everything seemed to go wrong the very moment Peter said those words.

Why had you even let yourself go along with this deal? Really? A back-up plan- honestly what the fuck. You should've known it would end up like this- with messy make-up and a dead tired soul standing alone in the cold. With a sigh, you pulled your hood up, sinking into it when ever anyone wandered by, holding your gallon of milk to you, prepared to use it as a weapon in case of anything. A gallon of milk would hurt if you swung it hard enough right? You could cut someone with plastic couldn't you? You hoped so- maybe waiting inside wouldn't be so bad- or maybe you could find something to help you pull that ladder down.. ugh but how?

You were so consumed in your own thoughts, you didn't see the figure limping your way. They could've walked right by you, and you wouldn't have noticed- but this person didn't. They mumbled your name under their breath questioningly- but you couldn't hear it. All you heard was the little sound of their voice, making you jump back before realizing this person was harmless- or at least he should be.