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chapter twenty-five bonnie and clyde
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Tragedy does not createheroes, it forges broken children with cracked skin and holes in their hearts. Izzy Windsor learned that the hard way. She learned that the way no child should have to; the way that almost seems too tragic to experience in real life, because really most people, especially people like her, only experienced that type of hard shit in the movies. Even then the rich and pretty (because let's face it, the glamorized version of Izzy Windsor was just that) would be amongst the fortunate ones. But movies weren't always two-hour-long shit-shows to escape reality. Sometimes the tragedies that happened in the cinema happened in real life, too. Izzy just so happened to be one of the unlucky ones to have the Hollywood movie experience without looking through rose-colored glasses.
Because of that, she always felt like she was carrying the world on her shoulders, struggling to keep all her little tragedies contained. It had always been too much for her. Too many problems, too many heartbreaks, too many tears, too many fatherly stab wounds to heal. Maybe she was too much, too. Too many emotions, too many mood swings, too much anger.
She had always been too much, and she had always known that, too. She was sure other people saw that too. She was sure they thought she was too much, too, so they didn't even try to know all of her. They only knew the parts of her that they liked, and when she did anything to counter that image they had in their heads, they were shocked. She did well to remember that was how they would always view her, but she understood it all because the thing was: Izzy Windsor wasn't meant to be understood, she was meant to understand. That was just how some things went . . . at least for her.
Tragedy had made her this way. She knew how dramatic that sounded, but you don't just lose your mom and come out without any burdens to bear. That shit just didn't happen. Maybe it could have happened in the movies, but Izzy's life wasn't a fucking movie, and tragedy hadn't made her a hero, it had made her too much. Like a glass filled to the brim with water, Izzy had the tendency to spill over the edge a few too many times. And as she hopped over the stone wall and her feet planted on the Camerons' backyard lawn, her emotions spilled over, reminding her of all the anger which poisoned her veins. It was too much.
