A Hatchetfield Oneshot Collection

Dark Paradise

A/N
Well this sucks but here you go Latte_Hottay I hope you don't cry too hard. This took literal months to finish so don't bash too harshly lol

TW Suicide, Alcoholism, Depression, Grief

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"Ms. Perkins!" a voice shouted, tongue twisting the unfamiliar language of the motel's latest American patron. The door shuddered with the banging of a fist. "There is a phone call for you down the stairs!"

A lump underneath the dumpy, scratchy, threadbare motel blankets stirred begrudgingly.

"Coming, coming!" Emma groaned, throwing back the covers. "Voy a saltar de un acantilado, lo juro," she muttered to herself. It was a nice thought, but one for another day. There were many cliffs to choose from there at Lake Atitlan.

"Hola, Señor Vegas. Did they leave a name?" She rubbed the sleep from her eye with the back of her hand, letting them adjust to the light of the hallway, which was bright compared to the dingy room she had been sleeping in.

"Ah, no. But they did leave a number to call. Said it was urgent." He gestured widely with his large hands trying with difficulty to portray words alien to his mouth, accent thick and endearing. Mr. Vegas was one of the better people she'd met in her travels. She'd been staying at his motel for a few weeks, and he was very kind. Well, when he wasn't banging on her door at 7 a.m.

Emma moved past the tall, thick man, starting down the hall toward the office near the entrance, where the phone was kept. It was strange for anyone but Jane to call, and even then Emma hadn't sent any postcards or letters from this place, so it was nearly impossible that it was Jane either. It was probably a wrong number or something. A tax collector at best.

But she was wrong.

Oh, she was so wrong.

"Ms. Perkins, are you this sister of Jane Marjorie Perkins? There's been an accident."

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All my friends tell me I should move on
I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song

No one was waiting for her at the airport. She didn't expect anyone, but still... It stung. Only a bit, though. Her heart was so damaged that nothing really hurt anymore.

Clivesdale was in a hurry, like usual, but Hatchetfield was just bustling along at its jolly, timely pace, as always. She hated it. Big cities were the places to be, so much room for adventure and danger and people minding their own fucking business. The opposite of a small town such as the one she'd grown up in.

Everywhere Emma looked she saw herself. The cafe where she'd gotten her first job at the ripe old age of sixteen. The curb where she'd wrecked her bike and gotten that awful bruise on her face just in time for picture day back in seventh grade. The parking lot where she'd had her first kiss in the back seat of some sleazy dude's car after homecoming freshman year. Such painful memories whirled about her, piercing her ears with their agonizing screams of boredom.

Because for her whole life, never had she once felt anything but bored. Not until she left this cursed place.

She saw Jane too. But she tried not to think about it. Told herself over and over about her iron heart. Nothing could hurt her anymore. Emma had spent so much of her childhood being second born, second best, second choice. And so, she had decided, things wouldn't hurt anymore. It worked for the most part.

Denial wouldn't work this time though, would it? Because Jane was gone. Jane, the only one in her entire life, her entire existence, that had tried with her, no matter how much Emma had pushed her away.