The girl on the floor rubs her eyes, her hair becoming messed up in the process. She yawns and bright light shines in her eyes, which sparkle as the rays of sun hit them. Her eyes became a lagoon of chocolate, greens and blues. Her pink plump lips opened and closed slightly, making soft 'm-pah!' noises. 

"Thanks for passing out, really helpful you know," A motherly voice kids.

She looks up and groans. "Again?"

The older woman sighs. "If it's eating you up like this-"

"No." The firm word is unusual and tastes weird coming out of her mouth. Unusual and...so unlike her.

Cinnamon, a sweet spice. One that's so easy to love, but also easy to dislike. Nobody ever expected anything even remotely condescending to escape from her lips, the shy brunette shakes with fear and anger.

"I'm not making a scene of it. Court would question why I came to them years later-" Cinnamon tries to argue, but she stumbles over the odd and somewhat poisonous sentences spouting from her mouth.

"-but it's understandable," Her therapist argues. "There are studies out there that show-"

Cinnamon shakes her head in one firm, resounding no. "I won't...I can't. People like me...well..." She inhales a painful gulp of air. "Well...we blend in. We become...nonexistent." She subconsciously falls back into her chair, only proving her point to one of the only people in the world whom she knew would listen. 

Mrs. Agily, her therapist, sighs. "Nobody on this Earth has been or ever will be nonexistent, no matter how hard you try to believe that." Her eyes showed that she is being sincere. Of course Cinnamon was paying her for her services, but the woman had grown fond of her patient, and even began to treat her like the daughter she was incapable of having. 

Cinnamon sighs. "People like me-"

"No," Mrs. Agily stomps her foot lightly, shaking with anger. How could this girl stay hidden after she had been so terribly wronged? How could anybody? "Don't you DARE use that argument AGAIN!" 

Cinnamon flinches. Wasn't this woman supposed to be her therapist?

Mrs. Agily huffs. "Cinnamon I know that what happened was terrible but you and I both know you need this. Clarity - you need it to be over -"

"And it is!" Cinnamon stands up, pushing her chair back. "It's been over for years! It's been over for a long time and we - I - mustn't make a bigger scene!" The angered girl grabs her coat and goes to turn to the exit, but is stopped almost as immediately. 

Mrs. Agily smiles sadly, cursing herself greatly for losing her temper at her 'daughter' like that, so unexpectedly. "But by not bringing this to court...aren't you?"

"Aren't I what?" Cinnamon spits, glaring at her hand which lay on the door knob.

"Making a bigger scene," Mrs. Agily explains.

Cinnamon stops in her tracks, unturning the doorknob slowly. She quirks an eyebrow, now more confused than anything. "How so?"

Mrs. Agily twiddles her long, pale, wrinkly fingers. They dance on her lap as she nervously explains, "You could be protecting so many others, standing up for so many others. If he's done it to you...who's to say he hasn't done it to another innocent?" 

Cinnamon just snarls and walks out the door, but the words stick to her the way the memories did. Perhaps Mrs. Agily had a point she needed to consider...

✎ ✎ ✎ ✎ ✎ 

Just as she had suspected, Mrs. Agily's words ring in her ears hours later. Hours turn into days, and days into a week. She couldn't stop thinking about it, she couldn't. How could she? It was quite the thought...and it kept her up at night. 

What if he really did do it to somebody else and they were just like her, too shy, always hiding? She had never done much with her life and this was such a simple task. It couldn't possibly be that hard to do...right?

"Well you would only need to find a lawyer, review the facts of the case, dig some stuff up for our college years, aaaand that's just the beginning," Alya DiAnjo, Cinnamon's closest friend sighs, ticking the moments off her perfectly tanned fingers. "Basically, that's not including the literal case whatsover."

Cinnamon groans and plops her face in her hands, her elbows rested on the table of the diner she and Alya were at. "And the testimony-"

"Whoa whoa whoa girl," Alya's soft brown curls fall across her shoulder's as she moves to pat her friend's back. "Chill out for a second! 

Cinnamon inhales and lets out a long exhale, her eyes fluttering closed, her lips pressed into a tight line. 

"I have a feeling that even thought you look calmer, you aren't actually calmer," Alya reads the girl like an open book, smirking because she knows she's right.

Cinnamon frowns. "Dammit. I can't hide anything from you-"

"-hide anything from me." They finish at the same time. They glare at the other for a solid minute before bursting out into laughter. Their giggles and snorts rung out melodiously, causing several other tables to look at them. A five year old boy even dropped his fork on the ground at the sight of two adult women in hysterics in the middle of a public diner.

A waitress comes over and places two heaping plates of pancakes, bacon, eggs, potatoes and fruit in front of them, everything expertly seasoned. A sprig of basil lay on on her strawberries, so Cinnamon plucked it and tore a small piece of the delicate leaf with her teeth. She chewed.

Alya grimaced as she began to drown her pancakes in syrup. "We are two very different people." 

"That we are," Cinnamon agrees, taking a bite of her pancake. "That we are," She repeats, shoveling it in her mouth. 

They sit in silence for a while. If it was their normal brunch meeting, they would have been sharing photos, commenting about the latest celebrity gossip or checking up on the other's jobs. Alya would have some funny story from the dentist's office she works at, and Cinnamon would retort with a funny story of her own. They would go at it for hours and hours, until nearly time for dinner. The staff would shoot them looks, but they had gotten used to it after a while.

Alya frowns. "Not much to say today, huh?"

Cinnamon shakes her head, her mind still whirring like gears in a cuckoo clock. "When one has too much to think about, one cannot say as much."

Alya brutally stabs her pancake. A loud screeching noise emits from the harsh contact and Cinnamon spills some syrup on her lap. Alya laughs as Cinnamon groans.

"Alya!" Cinnamon whines, her previous thoughts the furthest thing from her mind as of now. "This is all your fault!" She grabs a napkin and swipes away at the syrup, only causing the sticky sap to spread further over her jeans. The rips in the fabric allowed for some of it to get to her smooth skin and she whined louder.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're so jumpy, Cinna!" Alya howls in laughter, her fork lying forgotten on the side of her plate. The pancake was still stuck on it, and it flopped over, cracking, revealing the cakey substance between both perfectly browned sides.

Cinnamon rolls her eyes. "So who was the one who committed murder? Not me!"

Alya frowns. "Hey, he was already cooked to death and placed with other delicious and dead substances. Is it really murder if it's already dead?"

Cinnamon gnaws on her lip. "I suppose, but if you take all those 'dead substances' and put it together to make something new, it's reborn!"

Alya wags a finger at Cinnamon the way a mother would wag their finger and their two year old child. "Then I suppose we'll both go to jail, look at your plate!"

Cinnamon brings the nearly cleaned plate closer to her. "Hey, food is meant to be eaten!"

Alya snorts. "Exactly!"

Cinnamon snorts back at her. "But you were just brutal with it!"

Alya rolls her eyes. "Is chewing food not brutal to it?"

"I suppose it is-" Cinnamon uses her fork to play with the excess syrup on her plate. "But let me tell you, you went the extra mile-"

"I did!" Alya claps her hands excitedly. "Fifty one miles, not just fifty!" Alya watches as Cinnamon's face goes from mock anger, to confusion, to annoyance.

"You wouldn't dare-"

"Oh not this again!"

"Well you brought it up-"

"-And I shouldn't have because now!-"

"ARGH!"

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Alya glares at Cinnamon, Cinnamon looks up from her plate to glare at Alya, who in turn, glances back down at hers. It quickly became a very vicious cycle. It always did. It's just how this situation worked with the two of them.

Cinnamon finally breaks it to glare at Alya just a little longer. "Well you know-"

"How did we get from your appointment to pancake murder to-" Alya is cut short by Cinnamon clamping her hand over her friends' mouth.

"Don't say it!" Cinnamon whines. "Not here!"

"Not anywhere, for that matter," A waitress comes over with a pad and a pen in her hand. "May I take your second order?"

Cinnamon and Alya share a look. Laughing, their chorus"Yes please!"

✎ ✎ ✎ ✎ ✎

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝙲𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎? 

𝙳𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚙𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚖 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜, 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙!

𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚜 (𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙸 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘) 𝚜𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘!

𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜! 𝙳𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔! <𝟹 

🅢🅣🅐🅣🅤🅢: 🅔🅓🅘🅣🅔🅓
Leto_the_Titaness