prompt — rain.


death of me
a trial & retribution fanfiction


"He's dead Roisin, Mike's dead!"

She doesn't cry at first, she's too numb for that. Instead she runs, and runs and runs until she exhausted and she feels sick. Until she's in the middle of nowhere and she doesn't really know where she is. To a place she doesn't know, a place with no importance.

It's a lake. She'd probably say it was a beautiful lake had she realised and noticed it's beauty.

She doesn't. She just sits on the bank and sighs deeply, wondering how an earth she carries on without him.

The ringing of her mobile phone breaks through her thoughts and the ever-growing silence. She stares down at the caller id, a drop of water falling on the screen partially covering it. She doesn't know if it's a raindrop or a teardrop, everything's blurred into one.

She disconnects the caller id not wanting to talk to anyone. Only the caller has other ideas, he keeps ringing and ringing until Roisin's had enough and throws the phone, half through anger and the other through annoyance where it sinks to the bottom.

Sinks just like her heart had when she discovered he'd died.

"Why fucking do this to me Mike, what the fuck did I do?" She asks herself. Why him? Why now? She feels a raindrop fall on her shoulder and she wraps her jacket around her tightly but still remains where she is.

She doesn't know how long she's sat there, with the light drizzle but the rain becomes heavier and heavier. It isn't long before she's soaked to the skin but she doesn't care. She still doesn't move because it's a comfort to know he's pissing on her from heaven.

That's Mike's sense of humor, to kick her when she's down.

She wipes away the teardrops and the rain that's rolling down her face, sighs deeply and stands up. She begins to walk in the direction she came from, knowing she has to return home, to their home with all their memories.

She can't hide out here forever, even if the lake is beautiful and quiet and nobody knows where it is.

She has to move on, there's no choice. He's dead and nothing will bring him back.


jottings — written for the writing challenge with sir barton. like it enough to favourite, please review.