Don't Cry, Misty
One Shot by Deathspector
Misty hardly ever cried.
The very sensation of having salty droplets of water flow down her cheeks was alien to her. She had never experience true pain, and had never experienced the welling up of tears behind her eyelids. She was always one to be brave in the face of danger, and comfort you in times of need. Seeing her cry was like seeing a donkey suddenly sprout wings, and take off into the air. It was unheard of.
I patted her back, not knowing what else to do as she poured all of the tears that she had kept concealed for many years onto my shoulder. I ran my hand through her hair affectionately, hoping that it would cheer her up. Seeing the one girl who had stood her ground for the past sixteen years cry made me want to join her, and let all of the bad things in my body go away. But I knew that I had to keep in my own tears until later.
I looked up, and saw the reflection of the two of us holding each other tightly in our arms, and gasped. I had never really believed that the two of us had changed so much. Once upon a time, I would have looked into the mirror and would have marvelled at the reflection of the two of us. But now, the hardships of life had changed use so much that it was hard to tell whether we were the same people.
I looked at the reflection of Misty and sighed. Her entire physical appearance had changed so much it was frightening. Her hair had once been a vivid orange colour that seemed to light up even the darkest of rooms, but now it lay lank and dull, and seemed to have lost the glow that it had once had. Her eyes were still that sea-green in colour, but were filled with salty tears, and puffy around the edge. Her skin had darkened, and she now seemed to emanate a sense of intelligence and understanding, unlike before, when she used to be a sort of symbol of liveliness.
I looked at myself, and found myself staring at something so scary that I almost screamed, but the reassuring touch of Misty’s fingers on my skin calmed me down, reminding me that I had to take care of her at the moment. My eyes, once a golden brown in colour, now had dark circles surrounding them, and seemed to bore into anything they saw. My hair was no longer shiny and silky, but seemed to look rather sad as they sat there on my head. I had grown a beard that was so scratchy and ugly to look at that I turned back to Misty, nuzzling my face into her hair.
“Be brave Misty,” I muttered into her hair, my voice slightly muffled by the thick strands of hair.
Those words only seemed to be a source of renewed pain, and she began to sob harder than ever, her polished nails digging into my back as my tee-shirt, now soaked with tears, slipped from her fingers. My hands clung tightly to her behind her back, holding her close to my body. In fact, she was so close that she had to turn her head sideways before continuing to cry.
That word seemed to take all of the air from Misty’s lungs, and she took a massive breath before continuing her bawling. Yet that mono-syllabic words with three letters and no vowels seemed to be the strongest word in the English dictionary. It made me reel as if she had slapped me in the face, even though she was not referring to me in any way. I paused for a minute, contemplating her question. But the more I thought of it, the more jumbled my answers became.
“I…don’t know,” I managed to reply.
She removed her face from my chest, and turned up to look at me, and I felt a powerful wave of emotions flooding there way from her tear clod eyes. She seemed to be pleading with me to take away her pain. I stumbled over my feet, almost falling backwards before regaining my composure. I looked back into her face, seeing the pain behind those eyes. Her entire face was set in a posture of pure determination and willingness. I couldn’t help but marvel at her self-control. After all she’d been through…
“I just don’t understand why…why she had to do that. I take back the bad things I did to her if only…if only she’d be my friend again…friend…”
Her words fell out in a jumble of letters and syllables that it took me a while to understand what she was talking about. I finally understood, and shook my head firmly. His was one topic that I was sure-footed on and wouldn’t change my opinion, no matter how much Misty, or anyone else for that matter, wanted me to.
“Don’t think like that Misty. Whatever you said to her was respectable for the occasion. She did such horrible things to you, that witch. Do not feel bad about insulting her. Rethink, she did such things, that it was only fair that you did that. Remember, you have a true friend in me, and everyone in this household. Do not brood on the past.”
Misty nodded, although rather reluctantly. I gave her my warmest smile, and pulled her into another hug, my arms squeezing all of the bad thought out of her body. She returned the hug, and hiccupped as she tried to hold back another river of tears. I patted her on her head, and shook my head. She let lose a scream of internal pain, and began to cry again. I stroked her, letting her cry as long as she could. Better out than in.
“Thank you,” she mumbled under her breath.
A sudden knock on the door brought the two of us out of our stupor. I looked from the door to the sobbing Misty in my arms, and felt a swapping of primary things. I couldn’t chose between Misty and the knock on the door, and didn’t know which one to attend to. But even at a time like this Misty’s always there to help me.
“Go on. Open it.”
I nodded, and still having Misty clinging to my torso, I reached across to the door that led into the bedroom. I swung it open, but was caught half-way through by something on the outside. I pushed harder, but I couldn’t force the door any further. It was stuck fast. A look of horror and fear crossed my face, but was blanked out when a brusque voice came from outside.
“Not meaning to intrude, or anything, but you two might want to come out. There’s someone here to meet you, Misty.” The voice was rough, and hoarse. The minute I heard that voice, I knew it belonged to the one other person who I could trust with my life, apart from Misty.
Her entire body went rigid in my arms. She hadn’t expected anyone to see her after what she had done. Her face was drained of colour and her lip trembled. She was scared. It was one of those things that got me even more frightened than anything, and sent shivers down my back. Those shining eyes wide with cowardice, and completely drained of the bravery I had got accustomed to. I held her face to my chest, keeping her from starting to cry again.
“W-who is…i…it?” she asked, whimpering into my chest.
“Gary Oak,” came the reply. “He says he needs to talk to you right now.”
It was my turn to freeze. Gary Oak was the last person that either of us wanted to see. Ever since the fateful day, two evenings ago, both Misty and I were dreading the minute that we’d have to face him. There had been rumours of his outrage after he got home that night. The whole city had been ringing with tales of what Gary would do to Misty, and I if her ever saw us. We were expecting to confront him on the streets, but never did either of us think that we’d meet him in my very residence.
“Are you two coming, or what?” came the voice from outside.
“We’re coming,” Misty replied, with a sudden anger in her eyes, “Ash and I are both coming, and we’re going to tell Gary the truth about why I killed May.”
I looked at Misty, horror struck as she said those words proudly and bravely. This was the Misty I was used too, but never had she been willing to walk head-first into such danger. But if she went, I’d go to. The only thing I could say was:
“Don’t cry, Misty.”