Losing My Grip [AMY]

[Bree Anise Ripsen]

Lately, Bree was getting the feeling that she was always at the shop; like the shop had become a part of her that she just couldn't remove. It was strange how much she relied on it, actually. Well. Relied on the shop. Thought about the shop would be more appropriate. But she did rely on it, too. It was one of the only things that wasn't changing in her life right now. It was constant. Stable. And that was what she loved about it.

Right now, she was just sitting in the back room, with her guitar and her notebook, just lazing around the place, with nothing important to do. Another thing she loved about the shop. It wasn't normally busy at all. In fact, hardly anyone came in. So it was kind of nice to just be in her own company for a while. She liked it a lot, because she could do what she wanted and no one could judge.

So that was what she was doing right now. Well. She wasn't writing music, like she'd intended. She was just staring at a page that had a few scribbled-down lyrics on it. They weren't making sense to her at all. She had some kind of verse, no chorus, and a little bit of a bridge part, but...that was it. Why was writing music so difficult right now? Ugh, she didn't know. She'd just have to wait, either until she got an idea that was halfway decent...or until something else happened, she supposed.

--------------------------------

Outfit: Clicky! Tagged: Amy! Notes: She's gunna freak. Just warnin' you. xD Words: 265

[Amy Louisa McKinney]

Amy was finding life hard. Her ex-husband didn't want to know her, and she had a baby- one she didn't have a clue how to care for. She was sure that there was one person in town that wouldn't want to kill her; her old best friend. Bree. Surely she'd want to see her?

Amy dropped the baby off at another childminder's and set off. She wasn't sure why she was heading to the florist's, rather than Bree's place, but she did. She felt no need to change her route, so she continued.

She turned the corner onto the street where the florist's resided and took a tremulous breath. Bree had probably moved on by now. She just hoped she hadn't been completely forgotten.

She slowly pushed open the door, to find no-one in the main shop. She headed toward the back room, to find her, reclining with her guitar. Memories of other days spent with her friend flooded Amy- it had been so long, too long.

Breathing in shakily, she stepped forward. Relief that her friend was here showed on her face. "Bree?" She said cautiously, and when her friend looked up, Amy burst into tears.

[Bree Anise Ripsen]

The fallen had heard the door to the florist open and shut, but she'd figured that she wasn't needed at that particular time. Normally, people just called out to her or rang the little bell she'd put on the front counter if they needed anything. But this person hadn't. So Bree just assumed that she wasn't needed at this moment in time. That was okay with her. That just meant more time to herself. So what if she was being the slightest bit selfish right now? It was impossible to be nice all the time.

However, the fact that there was someone else in the shop set her on edge slightly. She stopped busily strumming at the guitar in her hands, like she had been, and listened out for the person. The footsteps that were resonating around the place were quick, purposeful. And suddenly, Bree got the sense that she was needed after all. But she still wasn't quite sure. She didn't quite know what to do. Did she wait? Did she go and see if she could be of any help? Did she--

Her thoughts were cut off by a voice, an all too familiar voice.

She just froze completely. The voice had said her name. It was soft, feminine, just like she'd always remembered it. But...Amy? No. Amy died. It couldn't possibly be Amy. Bree just had to be mistaken. There was no way in hell that it could possibly have been Amy McKinney. But...it just sounded so much like her. And Bree didn't know if maybe, just maybe, she wasn't mistaken, and that this was her former best friend's voice she was hearing.

Her ice blue eyes were wide, fixed firmly on the ground. She was frozen to the spot, paralyzed with shock. She couldn't move, speak, do anything. Just think. And she couldn't even do that, really. The thoughts were running too fast. She couldn't keep up. It was a whirlwind of confusion in there. How was this even possible? Bree had to have been hearing things.

But the fact that there was someone else inside the shop...and the voice...it'd sounded so...so real. She didn't know what was real and what wasn't. Well. She knew that she was in her shop. But she didn't know if she was just having one of her sad, reminiscent moments or not. There was only one way to find out, wasn't there?

Slowly, hesitantly, Bree lifted her head, and her cerulean eyes fell upon the teary amber orbs of, yes, Amy McKinney. Her grip tightened on the chair she was sitting on slightly, just to stop the room spinning. She was dreaming this up. She just had to be. Had to.

"B-but..." Bree murmured, looking at her friend with wide eyes. "How...you were...and I was at the...no...th-this isn't...it c-can't..." She felt her eyes pricking as she shakily stood up, and took a few tentative steps toward the woman, the sobbing, obviously relieved woman in the back room of her shop. "A-A-Amy?"

--------------------------------

Outfit: Clicky! Tagged: Amy! Notes: ;__; Words: 535

[Amy Louisa McKinney]

Amy watched Bree's scribbling freeze. She couldn't help but to stare as slowly, hesitantly, her friend looked upwards. She was able to read her friend; confusion fluttered across her face. It wasn't surprising- it had be disconcerting, seeing someone you were certain was dead.

She stood there, not saying a word, for a few moments. She was simply looking at Bree's expression. Her ice-blue eyes were impossible to forget.

Silently, Amy wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. Crying wasn't going to help anything, despite how much she wished it would.

Bree's voice was just as she remembered it; feminine. Hearing her choked with tears wasn't something she was used to, however. It made her feel... sad.

"Bree... it's--" She wanted to say it was okay. But it wasn't okay. Besides, Bree would be aware that she was lying. She hadn't come here to hurt her friend.

Subconsciously, she started picking at the sleeve of her jumper, starting to fray it. "Yep, Bree. It's me." It was hard to look at Bree's face; her friend's eyes were watering, and Amy didn't particularly wish to start crying again.

She shakily said, "Bree... there's so much... that you need to know. I need help and...you can help me, right?" She wasn't sure her old friend was going to be able to ever get over the shock of seeing her again, but--

A hug would help, right? Hugs helped everything. Shyly, hesitantly, she opened her arms. She knew that she needed a hug, so she just hoped that Bree did too.

[Bree Anise Ripsen]

Bree just could not process what was going on. Her best friend - her dead best friend - had made an appearance in her shop. She wasn't dreaming, was she? She certainly didn't recall going to bed. Or falling asleep. So...she couldn't be dreaming. But she had to be. This wasn't normal. She couldn't possibly be awake. Nope, she wasn't. She was sure she wasn't. She couldn't possibly be. ...Could she?

She laid a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. However, it was tentative, cautious, just in case she wasn't really there, just in case this was all a dream. But, no, she felt the soft fabric of the woman's shirt under her fingers, causing her to sigh in...a mixture of relief and something that she couldn't quite lay a finger on. But it was an emotion that she didn't like; that she didn't think should have been an emotion.

"Oh, g-god..." she stammered out, trying to calm down, trying to stop the flow of emotions that an through like her body like a raging river. She realised, in that moment, how much she really had missed Amy, where she'd convinced herself that she had moved on. She hadn't after all; she'd just thought she had.

"B-But I don't understand!" she said quietly, bewilderment leaking into her voice, which was cracking with reminiscent tears. She cleared her throat, and fiercely wiped her watery eyes. "You were...y'know. S-So how can you b-be here?" She just didn't get it at all. She wasn't thinking; she couldn't think. It was...a lot to take in. She'd only recently gotten Brent back. And now Amy too? Wow. It was so much to deal with.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes, though, when her friend asked for her help. Of course she would help, as long as the request was reasonable. Bree would help her friend with whatever she needed to be helped with; as much as she could. That was just how Bree was. She wouldn't let someone who needed help just slip through the cracks. She couldn't.

She really couldn't hold back the tears, though, when Amy slowly lifted her arms holding them out to her. She took a careful step forward, then again, getting quicker as she did so. She wrapped her arms tightly around the woman, one small tear slipping out of her eye. she couldn't help it. There was just so much emotion in her system right now. It had been over a year. So long ago.

Why hadn't she been like this when she met Brent again, though? She and Brent had been friends for about the same amount of time that she and Amy had, maybe a tiny bit less. But when they met again in Brent's shop...that'd been just awkward. Why? Why had it been that way? She'd missed him just as much as she had missed Amy. Why hadn't she felt what she was feeling now.

However, she pushed those thoughts away from her mind, and brought her lips to Amy's ear, using a shaky finger to tuck the fiery red strands of her hair behind her ear so that she could hear her properly. "Of course I can help you," she whispered hoarsely. And that was true; she'd help in whatever way she could. "Do you...uh...wanna sit down? I'll make you a cup of coffee or something, and we can chat? That sound good?"

--------------------------------

Outfit: Clicky! Tagged: Amy! Notes: ;__; Words: 614

[Amy Louisa McKinney]

Amy held the cup of coffee firmly in her lap. She didn't trust herself to drink, as she had a feeling that she'd pour half of the liquid out before it reached her mouth, her hands were shaking so much. It felt strange to meet someone that remembered her, someone she was close to. It was nice to speak to someone other than Brent.

She was sat next to Bree, on a chair she'd dragged from nearby. "Er... well, I obviously, never.... y'know... died." Amy couldn't figure out where to start; there was so much to say, and confusion was running in her blood. It was so bizarre to talk to someone who remembered her- who cared.

Amy wasn't able to look at her friend any longer; the concern that showed in her blue gaze was almost enough to make her start crying again. "I-I'm not human any more, Bree." She gazed at the brown liquid in her cup and stared at her distorted reflection as the coffee slowly swirled. "When I was attacked, somehow, for some reason, I didn't die. It makes no sense, but... well, I'm a demon. A demon of envy."

She glanced at her friend, eyes glistening. "Rory died, though, Bree. Why couldn't Rory have survived, instead of me?" With her free hand- the one that wasn't holding the mug- she tucked her hair behind her ears before it started drifting in the coffee. Slowly, she placed the coffee on the floor- she had a feeling they might be here a while. There was certainly enough to talk about.

She rubbed her face with her hands; she couldn't risk crying again. She probably wouldn't stop. "God, Bree, why didn't I just come here first? Why did I go and see--"

Amy sighed heavily. "Him. You know." She stared around the back room glancing at the walls; she'd spent so many afternoons in here, chatting.

"He hates me, y'know. H-he hates me so much, Bree." Amy curled her legs up, resting her arms on her knees. "It's like he forgot us. He's got over us by now, and moved on, hasn't he?"

"Bree, he hates me, and I get that. I should have seen him sooner. But surely, in that case, I have every right to hate him, too." Amy looked upwards in a last attempt to stop the tears from falling. "So why don't I?"

[Bree Anise Ripsen]

Bree and Amy were now sat, just like they used to, in the back of the florist, talking. But they weren't talking about things that thy had before; mundane things like the weather and their jobs and just having a good old whine. No, this was much more significant than that. Amy was dead, Bree had been convinced that she was. But...she hadn't been. So, yes, an explanation was in order, wasn't it? But, if she was completely honest, Bree didn't know where to start with asking questions. So she just let Amy speak, and would see if she had any questions left at the end.

Okay. So the facts. Amy never really died. Questions stemming from that. Why didn't she let Bree know? Why did she hide out all this time? Next. Amy was a Demon. Bree actually had to grip a little tighter to her chair to stop the world from spinning. Well, everyone around her that she loved were becoming Demons. Was it just something about Bree? She hoped not. That would be terrible; y'know, if it was.

Rory didn't make it. Bree's heart dropped a bit on hearing that. A tiny little part of her had hoped that Rory had survived; had somehow become a demon too, even though she knew that tat would be impossible.. Anything would have been better than that poor little boy dying. But, no. He had died, and that was the end of it. He was eternally dead. Oh, god, that poor kid.

"I...I d-don't know, Amy..." the fallen said, wiping fiercely at her eyes with the back of her hand. "M-Maybe...it was...I don't know. Rory...he w-was only one. He w-wouldn't have made it." Her voice had dropped an octave, and she sniffed, just to keep the tears back. She was feeling too much pity; and she knew it. She shouldn't pity Amy; knew that Amy wouldn't like being pitied. But she couldn't help it.

Well, Bree was surprisingly...not surprised...when Amy told her that Brent apparently 'hated' her. She knew that Amy thought this was true because, well, she hadn't felt anything that would let her know her that it was a lie. But...Bree could see why. She'd been alive, all this time, and had failed to alert Brent. Bree would've felt the same, had she been Brent.

However, she still scooted forward in her chair and put a comforting hand on Amy's knee. "You can't hate him," she began, "Because you've been through too much to hate him." It was a simple enough concept to grasp; she and Brent had been through a lot. And that was why Amy couldn't do it.

She laughed weakly at her friend's attempts to keep the tears back. "God, Amy...y-you're allowed to cry, y'know." she said quietly. "I don't mind. I-It's good for y-you."


--------------------------------

Outfit: Clicky! Tagged: Amy! Notes: ;__; Words: 512