[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/hUm8ue5l.png[/img][/center] [center][sub][sub][h3][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZ8oA9-OQrg]Я тебя люблю[/url][/h3][/sub][/sub][/center] [hr] [indent][indent][i]Скажи мне – Я тебя люблю, тебя люблю![/i] There in the darkness of her room with her headphones pulled tight against her ears it was almost like Aleksey was there with Ava. She could see his boisterous grin of all too perfect teeth and his perfectly styled hair that never seemed to move despite his movements upon the stage. His idol frame hanging over her the wispy specter of disrupted circadian rhythm. [i]Возьми ключи от рая и домофона[/i] Ava lay there fitfully atop of her bedspread not even bothering to slip under the sheets. She sighed as she checked her phone for the third time this hour, sleep having evaded her grasp once again. She ignored that alerts that scrolled past the screen about some kind of crisis happening in America. The Markov’s doctor deduced that it was a result of the change in environment, that once she had gotten adjusted to Markovia that sleep would come easier, in the meantime prescribing a small bottle of nondescript pills to help her along. [i]Пароль от сердца и телефона[/i] The bottle of pills lay unopened on her desk. It wasn’t her fault that Markovia sucked . She wished she was back in Sapporo, that her mom was still working with the Hasigawas. Markovia was a depressing place exclusively composed of pine forests oppressive in their scale, intermittently cut with the occasional bog or flattened patch of land used to farm, the entire package rounded off with weather that seemed only to switch between melting heat, bitter cold, and/or rain without anything more than a warning. So yeah it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t like living there, that she didn’t have many friends because all the kids made fun of her because she couldn’t speak Markovian all too well, and that she just wanted to leave. [i]ОК, ты с подругами у барной стойки[/i] She rolls over, abandoning this pointless parody of sleep. Gropes for her clothes. A small black generic brand T−shirt, favourite pair of white-washed jeans that were ripped around the left knee from falling of her board while racing down a hill with Jiro, a comfortable and worn black pullover sweatshirt that was two or three sizes too large, baggy sleeves hanging loosely from thin arms, and a black beanie pulled over her mane of bed-tussled red hair to complete the package. [i]А я в углу стою и у-у-у-у-у![/i] The switch on Ava's lamp still feels alien: a different click, designed to breath a steady stream of peculiar Markovian electricity. Everything feels alien: the roads of loose gravel or dirt rather than paved asphalt, the weight of things felt off, and things that once went one way now went the other. She felt Alice having fallen into some bizzare version of Wonderland. Standing now, stepping into her jeans, she straightens, shivering. Pupils contracted painfully against sun−bright halogen, she squints into an actual mirror, and sees the tired mickery of a human being looking back. Ava never really liked the way she looked, all she saw was that she was too short, too skinny, and flat as a board. Judging from her perviews through Youtube and the rest of the internet, that was what most girls her age apparently felt, not that it helps quell her own insecurities. [i]Твоё лицо в слезах и туши водостойкой[/i] The inescapable urge to bake filled her body. One of Ava’s old and tired jokes was that she had CBD - Compulsive Baking Disorder, whenever she had trouble sleeping, couldn’t stop worrying about something, or otherwise general anxiety took a hold she somehow found her way into the kitchen. She liked to at least tell herself that it was a better coping habit than the countless packs of Ziganovs that her mother goes through. [i]С тобой знакомится иду-ту-туру-ту![/i] Bare feet went silently out of the bedroom and into the hall. Ava shivered reflexively, the stone floor leached away whatever warmth that she had. Light pooled around the corner from the combined kitchen/living room area. [i]Mom is probably still working on the Brussels trip.[/i] Ava was excited about Brussels. Originally she wasn't going to go her mother insisting that it wasn’t a vacation but a very important business trip. Her tune only changed when Gregor had insisted that she bring Ava along, that everyone needed a break from their studies from time to time. Brussels was a [i]real[/i] city, someplace where maybe Ava could find friends or maybe a quirky Belgian Circus that could spirit her away from Markovia. [i]ОК, я пригласил пообниматься в танце[/i] Ava stopped as she heard a familiar voice from around the corner. [i]Mom? Who the hell are you talking too at this hour?[/i] “Nata-” There was a muted pop like someone had set off a firework inside of a bucket. Ava almost fell backwards in shock, heart thundering like a drum. [i][b]Badump. Badump. Badump.[/b][/i] [i]Was that... a gunshot?[/i] Another voice, foreign to her ears, broke the silence. “I got you.” Но ты сказала не пойду-ту-туру-ту! Ava mustered her courage and turned the corner. There in front of her resting on one knee was a women. Tall, pale, and hair red like Ava’s own, yet where Ava’s hair was dark her’s was deep and rich like the color of the sky at dawn, like the color of blood. She looked how Ava might of imagined the Angel of Death. And there resting in her arms like a modern retelling of the Deposition was Ava’s mother, eyes closed and shirt slicked red with blood. “Mom?” The words left her mouth but they found no purchase. The words caught in her throat. What came out instead was a mix between a gurgle, gasp, scream, and a cry. The unintelligible sounds of grief and shock smashing into each other at high speeds. The sound drew the eyes of the red-haired women. Ava was ensnared in their gaze of green deeper than any of the forests in all of Markovia. In an instant they seemed to analyze her, take her apart, and put her back together. It felt like she couldn’t hide anything because they already [i]knew[/i] everything. Ava couldn’t help but feel terribly terribly small. [i]И может быть ты сразу, но со второго взгляда[/i] Adrenaline finally found its way smashing into her heart. The trance was broken and before she could even think about it, before she she could second guess herself, she turned and ran back down the hall the way that she came. Her feet carried her back almost on autopilot back to her room. She slammed the door shut behind her the lock clicking into place. The vomit came before she could even think about it. Bile rushing outward onto her carpet in a steady stream. She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath, but could only manage ragged little things. Her heart still thrashing. Her brain screaming to run, to run as far and fast as she could. She could her the slow sounds of the red-haired woman moving down the hallway towards her. She was running out of time. Ava looked around frantically trying to find a way out. Her eyes fell upon the window above her desk. It was crazy but did she really have any other choice? [i]Come on Ava you can do this. It’s just a window. You’ll just jump out and onto the tree. You got this. You got this.. You... don’t go this. You really don’t got this! You really really really don’t got this! You're gonna die! You're gonna die! You're gonna dieeeeeeeee![/i] [B][I]CRASH[/I][/B] [i]Я понял, что тебя люблю-у-у-у-у[/i][/indent][/indent]