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2: 0. No One (Extended Summary)

What is the first thing you notice about someone?

It could be her pensive expression as she actually stops to smell the roses or her shocked silence as she walks out of the café or her distant gaze as she sits by the river. Maybe it's her solemn face as she pays her respects or her joyless smile as she hums a familiar tune or her limp body as she hangs from the noose.

Perhaps it is what she becomes to you.

(an anthology of oneshots centered around her; each written from a different perspective)

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»Author's Note:

I've had fun trying to create different perspectives focusing (or possibly not) on one subject, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much! I really do love experimenting with different writing styles, don't I?

This was an attempt to explore what exactly defines a person (which is one of the questions I am always, always pondering). Unfortunately, I don't think it really defined anything, but it did make me realize that what we see is not always what we get—or, have gotten. Also, it's a nice reminder that everyone is so much more than their first impressions.«

3: 1. First Impression

What was the first thing you noticed about her?

I took a deep breath, appreciating the cold, crisp winter air. I had stopped walking at the same time and watched as the people stepped around me, giving me dirty looks.

"Watch it, buddy!" someone called out as I was pushed roughly to the side and into another person.

I wiped my hands on my coat and retorted, "Watch yourself!"

"Excuse me," spoke a quiet voice.

I turned to the source, realizing the voice belonged to the person I had bumped into. "I'm sorry about that."

She shook her head slightly and smiled. "It wasn't your fault."

I nodded dumbly before snapping out of it. I took in the floral shop before noticing the flowers in her hand. "Those are pretty," I said, gesturing toward them.

"Oh, these?" she asked, her sweet smile turning just the tiniest bit sour as she focused on the flowers. "Asphodels are quite pretty for such sad symbols, but they are just what I need." She turned back to me, widening her smile. "Is there somewhere you needed to be? You've got quite an anxious look on your face."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm meeting someone soon," I apologized again, turning to leave. I took a few steps before glancing back at her.

She deeply inhaled the smell of the flowers, a wide but pensive smile plastered on her face. Then, she walked off, cradling the flowers as if they were her last chance.

I laughed a bit at myself, wondering when I'd become so philosophical. I continued to walk down the street, dismissing all thoughts of her. The whole world was waiting to be enjoyed.

4: 2. Second Chance

I had only wanted to drink my coffee in peace and quiet. Fortunately, my husband had taken the kids to go see a movie, which allowed for a few hours of tranquility on my end. I had intended to fully enjoy it in a small café, watching the hustle and bustle as the rest of the world passed me by.

That was until the manager had begun to scream at one of the employees. The few choice words that were shrieked at an inhuman volume seemed to be the extent of the manager's vocabulary, and I was glad that the kids were gone because I wanted to cover my own ears. I almost turned away in hopes that the manager's verbal abuse would end, but the employee's reaction captured my attention.

Her silence in response to the manager's screams was deafening. I couldn't see her face, nor could I imagine the expression that might have been on it. I could only watch her back as she nodded along with whatever the manager was bellowing.

It was odd to see her acceptance of everything without even an attempt to defend herself. She could have said something to try to pacify the manager's anger. She could have yelled back with just as much intensity to call the manager out on the verbal abuse. She could have done so many things, but in the end, all she did was walk out the door when the manager pointed and ordered her to.

I made a mental note to never let my kids work here.

5: 3. Third Time

Mommy said I could play with Khin until it was time for dinner, and then I would have to eat all of my peas.

I saw him walking on the sidewalk and ran to catch up. "Hey, Khin!" I said.

He turned to me and smiled. "Hi!"

"You wanna go to the river and play?" I asked. "Mommy said that I could play until dinner, but then I have to eat my peas."

He scrunched up his nose. "Gross!"

I nodded. "I know. But you wanna go play?"

He smiled again. "Yeah! I'll race you!" he yelled and started running.

"That's not fair!"

When we got to the river, there was a weird girl sitting on the grass. She was throwing rocks into the river and staring at the sun. Mommy told me never to do that because it would hurt my eyes.

"Hey, that's cool!" Khin yelled, and he ran to her. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him, smiling. There was something weird about her smile, but then she smiled at me when I got closer. "I'm skipping rocks. Wanna join me?"

"Uh-huh," I said and nodded. "How do you do that?"

She laughed a little and patted the grass next to her. "Come and sit."

Khin sat on her left, and I sat on her right. I picked up a rock and threw it. "Like that?" I asked.

She laughed again. "No, it needs to bounce off the water. More like this." She tossed a rock, and it bounced three times.

"Cool!" Khin yelled, and he picked up a rock and threw it, too. It didn't bounce.

"Here, I'll teach you." She tried to teach us, but it was too hard.

Khin crossed his arms and pouted. "I don't like skipping rocks!"

She laughed. She was always laughing. Mommy said that a person who laughed a lot was pretty, and I should say so.

"You're pretty."

She turned to me quickly and laughed again. "Thank you. What are your names?"

"I'm Khin!"

"I'm Semyon."

She laughed. "Nice to meet you, Khin, Semyon. I think you two should probably go home now because it's getting dark."

I looked at the almost-gone sun. "Mommy said that I could play with Khin before dinner, but then I have to eat all the peas."

She laughed. "Then you'd better get home soon."

Khin got up. "Will you be here tomorrow? I wanna play some more!"

She only smiled this time, and there was still something weird about her smile. Something sad. "Who knows? Now go home before you get in trouble!"

We said goodbye and raced all the way home. I wanted to tell Mommy about the weird girl at the river with the sad smile. But first, I needed to eat my peas.

6: 4. Fourth Horseman

I laid the single daffodil in front of the headstone, trying and failing to blink the tears away. She was supposed to live a long life. She was supposed to go on and be successful. She was never supposed to die.

It had been my fault. If only I had told her where I was going. If only I had stayed home that night. If only I had never been born.

She had died a year ago. The most perfect girl in the world had been dead for a year already. Somehow, the world managed without such a godlike creature for a year. A year had already passed, yet I knew what people were still saying about it.

"I can't believe she died." No one could, really. The concept of death was impossible to truly fathom, even if someone close to you experienced it, even if you could reach out and touch it.

"What's more, I can't believe that it was she who died, not her sister." If I could have traded places with her, I would. There was never a day during which I didn't think that I'd rather die than live without her.

"It's such a tragedy." The world had always been full of tragedies. However, her death had never been a tragedy. It was the end of everything before her. The world could never be the same without her.

Through my blurry vision caused by my tears, I managed to catch a glimpse of the outstretched handkerchief. I took it without so much as a thanks or a glance at whoever was offering it to me. There were far more important things to focus on at that moment.

"She would never have blamed you."

I could have laughed at that. I could have asked her how she could have possibly known that everything was my fault. I could have denied it. The fact was, I could have done so much, but I never did.

I don't know how much longer I stayed there. After all, everyone's perception of time is flawed. No one ever really knew how much time was left; everyone always thought they just had a little more. They were always wrong. When I finally looked up to leave, I saw her.

She was wrong. If the tortured look on her face meant anything, then there was no one to blame but ourselves.

7: 5. Fifth Harmony

The familiar, haunting melody revived dead memories of life before. My mother had constantly sung to me. A gentle smile had graced her lips, and her lithe fingers had run through my hair. My father had joined her sometimes if he was not surrounded by mountains of paperwork. They harmonized beautifully.

Unfortunately, they could never live together in harmony.

As we neared each other, I noticed the empty smile filling her melancholy expression. Faltering notes grew louder and louder and louder, reminding me of the constant quarrels between my parents before. They would often argue over just the smallest things. Who finished the milk without asking if anyone else wanted it? Who spent too much money when we traveled into town? Who forgot to make the bed in the morning?

After a while, they refused to even sleep in the same bed.

Our eyes flickered to meet the eyes of the other for just a moment. There had been moments when my parents would understand each other, but the moments were gone in just an instant and were few and far between. Singing had been included in those moments, but those moments, precious to me, were often forgotten in the onslaught of work and gossip.

So many things were forgotten in the heat of the moment.

We passed each other without a word spoken. My parents had not divorced each other, as far as I knew, but they learned not to speak to each other. When the silence became deafening, I finally gathered the courage to pack up my things and leave. After a while, the world grew louder. Once my memories returned, however, so did the silence.

The silent melody haunted me as I continued along.

8: 6. Sixth Sense

I rolled my eyes at the unintelligible sobbing echoing from the woods as I climbed out of my car. I had hoped for a peaceful and quiet morning, but that was obviously not going to be the case.

My partner grumbled as I approached, "Took you long enough to get here."

I shrugged. "I was on the other side of town, so sue me." The truth was, I stopped for coffee. In a small town such as this one, there was rarely a need to rush on scene. But I wasn't about to tell him that.

"Anyway," he continued on in that annoying, wheedly voice of his, "I've already taken a look at the scene. The coroner's preliminary report should be along pretty soon, but you can take a look at the body if you want." He jerked a thumb at the trees.

I shrugged again. "Might as well."

"I know nothing's ever certain, but everything points to suicide," he answered, even though I didn't ask, as I followed him deeper into the woods. "No signs of struggle at all."

"That'll make our job much easier, then," I answered, wishing he would just stop talking. I would have asked for a different partner, but the problem was that we were the only two detectives in town. I was looking to transfer a different agency, but I was stuck with him for the time being.

"It's sad, too. She was only a young girl." I don't think he ever learned the definition of silence, much less the value of it.

I responded with just a nod.

He stayed silent as we approached the body, an answer to my prayers. I only spent a moment to glance at her body, hanging limply from a noose tied to a tree. Her facial expression was oddly serene, as if she didn't mind—loved, even—the fact that she was dead.

"Suicide, all right," I commented. I heard the incessant wailing once again and turned to it. "Who's crying?"

He turned in the same direction and answered, "The young boy who found the body hasn't stopped sobbing since before I arrived. From what I gathered, it seems the noose was his. He was planning on committing suicide when the girl stepped in and convinced him otherwise. From the looks of it, she had planned to do the exact same thing."

"Weird that she would stop him but not herself." I faced my partner with a smile. "So, do you think you can handle the rest? I've got something I need to get to soon."

"Yeah," he replied, nodding, "I can take care of it. All I need to do is wait until the body is moved to the morgue for further examination and get the boy to the station to calm him down for further questioning."

"Sounds like a plan." I gave him a wave as I returned to my car. I had better things to do than to stare at a dead girl's body or babysit a suicidal brat. With a hearty breakfast calling to me, I felt no need to see more dead people.

Perhaps it was what she became to you.