AN: I hope you enjoy this. It just randomly came to me when I was eating pancakes this morning. Yes. Pancakes. With golden syrup. Yum. (Sorry, I just realised how inappropriate that was to the plot line. Oops.) If you spot any spelling or grammatical errors then please tell me. I kind of rushed this, so it's not perfect.
I wonder whether you will correctly guess who the characters are. The last line is a big clue. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything Ghost Hunt.
You're stood on the sidelines, dressed in black. Your heart gives a painful throb and your eyes sting of tears.
As more people come and go, your clenched fist tightens around the wilting white chrysanthemums you bought earlier.
When will it be your turn?
You begin to shake and sob, your longer brunette hair flops down into view and you couldn't care less.
The cemetery was empty.
You begin to walk over, and then you pick up speed. Your running. Tears run with you. You fall to your knees.
And then you start sobbing, clutching the white chrysanthemums with all your might.
Why did you ever love him?
It's raining. Your black dress is soaked. Your brunette hair dripping. The flowers you hold almost seem to melt away...
Just like your grief.
Why did you love him!?
Anger. You're feeling anger.
Your throat burns and you feel like screaming. If only he had told the truth. Then things might have been different.
The cries are coming quicker now and you're beginning to tire. What's the point? He's not listening.
And if he is… screw him!
Your sad again. Your finger traces the name 'Davis' upon the headstone. It looks old already. Even though it only seemed like yesterday he died.
Why didn't he understand?
If only he did…
You scream. "It's always been you!"