Leaving was the easiest decision to make, and the hardest action to take.

They were just sitting there In the box. Helpless.

Helpless was the only word that seemed to match all around. Why wouldn't someone destroy everything in that box. Why wouldn't they be debauched to within an inch of the last bit of everything there ever was?

She was always too soft when it came to things. It's like her house was the place where things came to be rescued, rabbits, fledglings, dogs that ate the rabbits that took refuge there and demanded to be rescued themselves, and cats who came to eat the fledglings who took refuge only to demand to be rescued as well shortly before being eaten by the dogs. There was as much tragedy at her house as there was rescuing, come to think of it, and that included the men that came in and out sometimes toting children she pretended to care for because she was so earnestly trying not to scar them psychologically by being some evil step-girlfriend mommy thing from hell.

It was a fucking carousel.

She'd lately been trying to avoid all of this. Rescue nobody! Take in nothing, unless it was to rescue herself.

It was good advice from her mother and that advice brought her right to that box. It was pink-her favorite color. And it needed rescuing so haaaaaaaard but then again she thought about how her favorite dress had finally started looking amazing on her again, and then she thought about the rush of sugar on her tongue and the confliction hit her again.

New clothes were expensive though. Even if the thought of a good donut made her want to stand and rescue that goddamn box.