OT: Blame the effin’ computer.
And we’re rolling.
Lewes sits on a couch: it is painfully apparent that the camera is a personal electronic because the date is flashing across the screen in bold, red letters: 6/2/05. The blonde, who leans back into the comfort of her furniture, looks away from the camera, instead opting to focus on a spot on the wall behind it.
“This is what it's like to live alone. You wake up in an empty bed, sheets cool around your legs, and you let go of the pillow tucked comfortably between head and shoulder - guiltily, as if someone is about to walk in and admonish you for pretending. You stretch, pad to the kitchen for a drink to wash his name from your lips, wince at the morning light. You fix yourself a cup of tea and let it get cold as you watch the hours tiptoe by.
This is what it's like to be the one left behind. You find yourself humming songs you haven't heard for decades as you wash the dishes and you remember him running through the dormitory whooping the lyrics after a date with some nameless girl; you find an old toothbrush that isn't yours or an empty, stained mug of what was once coffee left in a room you haven't touched for months, and you think how unfair it is for his belongings to still be here. You hate him for doing the easy thing and disappearing, though rationality always kicks in and tells you it wasn't his fault. You hate him for leaving you behind. You hate him.”
Olivia finally looks at the camera, eyes distant.
“When I was little, I wouldn’t dare dream that I was capable of love. Now, older, I know that this is the truth. I wake up in the morning and meet my reflection in the mirror and wonder: what the hell is wrong with me? Why do I push everything, everyone away? Why can‘t I love?”
Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, Olivia gazes off once again.
“Hope's the worst thing, I said, last winter. These kind of thoughts melted when the snow did and spring had me repenting, startled at how much hope could do. Now I wonder if I was right after all.
Hope is the worst thing when you don’t know how to use it.”
Olivia shrugs, crossing a leg over the other.
“Perhaps you should learn how, Caitlyn Daymon. Hope is the only thing that will save you. And, perhaps you should get your facts a tad more straight before you open that hideous, ‘I know you haven‘t brushed your teeth because you look like you just woke up after a bad hangover’ mouth of yours.”
Pausing, Olivia suddenly smiles.
“Krist Blue, my fellow woman, lost. Olivia Lewes, my fellow woman, won.”
With a sigh, Olivia waves a hand towards the camera.
“I have a feeling that this moment of.. buoyancy, will portend to something greater. Something greater, something more, I don’t know. Olivia.”
Chuckling, Olivia looks back to the camera, tilting her head a bit.
“I don’t know if you expect me to be impressed with how long you have been here. So, you were one of the first chicks here when NEW opened its doors to the women division? So? Woo-dee friggin’ doo, Daymon. Let’s all bow down to Daymon, she’s been here the longest!”
Olivia shakes her head with a side.
“Yeah, okay. So you have been pinned only once, huh?”
“Look forward to your second pin.”
Sadistically smiling, Olivia squints her eyes.
“Brush your teeth, Caity. Tonight will be the last opportunity you will have to do so. Kisses.”