Welcome to Gaia! ::

Gemma stared around the empty house as she was prone to do, wondering what would have happened if her life had gone any different. Wondering what would have happened if her mother wasn't a drunkard, or her father abusive. The only thing good in her life had been her brother, but Lord knows that he was long dead. It had been a century since she had died. So many things had changed. And yet, she was doomed to spend eternity in this old house, not being able to leave. She had tried.

Everytime she tried to leave, she was knocked back into unconsciousness. It was like she was attached to the house. It. Was. Not. Cool. She hated it. As a human, she had wanted more than anything else to disappear. Now that she finally had disappeared from people's minds, all she wanted to do was die. Truly die. None of this ghost crap. Someday, she hoped things would change, but she didn't think that it would happen any time soon.

She haved a heavy sigh, thinking deeply to herself, and moving aside the bracelets on her wrist, under which lay thin scars from where she had attempted to feel something other than numbness. She remembered the days when everything had been about who her friends were, or what her hair looked like, or even... who broke up with who.

A century ago, her boyfriend had broken up with her. It had devastated her. She stopped sleeping, stopped feeling, almost stopped all bodily functions. She even stopped eating, driving her body to eat itself up, resulting in her skinny figure. She craved the control everything brought her. She needed control to stay sane. It was how she lived... well... not anymore.

Gemma looked out into the still forest with mild interest, looking at all the free animals. Once again, she sighed, wishing to be free when she saw a young, blond boy come up the long overgrown path. Her eyes widened in surprise, shock, and fear. She had been left here for a century! Why did someone have to disturb her quiet now? She was doing so well alone, and now someone had to come and ruin it! She didn't care who this boy was, but she was going to get him to leave.

In her small breakdown, she pounded her fist on the old, dusty glass.
"Go away!" She cried, quite frightened that something was going to happen to her. As she pounded the glass, small clouds of dust rose into the air. Her small, bony figure finally slid down the wall, in a surrender.
Let him come she thought. I don't care anymore...

She had been defeated long ago, in the mere first months of her death. She didn't even remember how it happened, she just knew that she died. And yet, something in this house kept her here long after people forgot about her, and this house. it was odd. Everyone she had once loved was dead. She couldn't be with them, couldn't hold them, couldn't cry in their arms because they were probably in heaven, while she was stuck here for the rest of eternity.

Sliding down into a half-fetal position, Gemma heard a song she hadn't heard in years. It was Beethoven's Sonata No. 14. The Moonlight. Something was different about it though... Was it being played on a... guitar? She had never heard it played like that, and although she preferred the more angry third movement to his Sonata she still liked the first fine. It was odd hearing it on the guitar, but she soon got used to it. The song pacified her in a way that nothing else could have. Music never failed to calm her down. It was her way of speaking out and showing her feelings to another person without actually losing control or seeming weak. And from what she could tell about this person... he was lonely. She didn't know how or why, but she could tell that he was lonely.

Gemma smiled as the boy tried to play the third movement. Only... it couldn't be done. The original piano part moved too fast for a guitarist to ever keep up. She decided to up the ante and despite her dour mood, show the boy how classical was really done.

She took her human and tangible form and found her old violin case, covered in dust. She hurriedly tuned it, and then began to play. Tchaikovsky's Serenade Melancholique. She hadn't played this piece in years, and somehow managed to remember almost all of it. Her culminative feelings of the past century welled up in her playing, and eventually, she couldn't go on. She collapsed into a pile of tears and began cry. She couldn't keep going on like this...

Gemma heard the guitar stop, and the boy's voice rang from the door.
"Hello? Is someone in there? Are you okay?" His words seemed to pierce right through her. He asked her the very question she hated the most. While not a mean person, she hated it when others saw her cry. Or heard her. Or witnessed her weak moments in general.
"Just go away." She managed to force out between cries. "You're not wanted here. I was fine before you came and ruined everything..." She put a small hand through her hair before putting her head up against her knees.

Gemma listened to the boy's reasons. While valid, they didn't account for the fact that nothing she did made sense aanymore.
"I don't care!" She yelled. "Go away! Nothing I do makes sense! Happy?" She pulled her hand through her hair, stopping when her hand caught on a small knot. She rubbed her other hand over her face, trying to regain some semblance of composure ineffectively.

Gemma paused. Was it really like that? Had she really forgotten what people were like, or was it just that people had changed?
"Is it that people are scared of their stories, or do they actually think this place is haunted? People are always so stupid... relying only on their stories, never providing any proof." She grumbled. She wanted to change the subject. She didn't like the subject being on her. How about him?
"It's not like you're not lonely. You can't deny that." She pointed out.

((Sorry. Just a bit of writer's block.))