Misery Loves Company

It had been long enough, by then- more than long enough. There, in the house in the city, or out in the country estate, the tension built. It was palpable, spreading over the atmosphere like an inky black cloud. And it generated from only one thing; that thing was, in fact, a being- not a thing- and she travelled with them. It was impossible to escape her.

Noone could know what Emma was going to do. She couldn't trust even those closest to her, not with a breath, a hint, a word. It felt as if even the faintest whisper would transform the events which followed, exposing them to the light of future days, to being seen and touched by the rest of her life. It was important to her that words went unsaid; that way, when it was over, it was over. She'd close the lid on this particular parcel of memories, bury them somewhere deep and dark, and move on. 

But what would she do? It seemed like such an unsurpassable dilemma, which frustrated her more than anything because she knew that someone viewing the problem from the outside would see solutions she hadn't yet grasped. But their view wasn't clouded with memories, ghosts of uncertainty, doubt, malice and betrayal. 

It didn't matter, because she still couldn't ask anyone- so she weathered away the days, gritting her teeth, her hands balled into fists, fighting back screams as this infuriatingly negative, utterly destructive presence continued to pick at her like a viscous bird, it's giant black wings ever stirring, eliminating any semblance of peace or inner comfort.

So, how do you get rid of something like that? She asked herself. How do you get rid of someone who has every right to be where she is? How do you make her go away?

The answer hit her one day, weeks later, halfway to the city, lounging in the coach. How do you make a miserable person want to leave?

By making their life even more miserable than the cage they'd set up for themselves.

Emma smiled. Yes. That would certainly do the trick.