She sat, filled with sadness. That familiar fullness at the top of her chest, the prickling of her eyes, tears were looming, breaking down the numb. She lives her life with sadness, but rarely succumbs to it, choosing instead to hoist up her gunbelt and push it back down inside. She is after all, not a weak female. But not today. Today she is sat, right were she sank when they told her, they told her Faye Margaret was dead. Little FayMay, the only good and consistent thing in her life. Little FayMay caught in a cross fire at Deblankos Liquor Store, gone, before she even hit the dirt. Her only sister, and friend, gone. Sure they were different, growing up, and heck, always, you would never of guessed they were sisters. Amelia such a tomboy, always in pants, covered in grime, torturing the life outta some critter. FayM was the one for dresses, and ribbons, and tea party's , and dolls. Like <chalk and cheese>, they didn't rub along so well, but they always loved each other. Growing up they got better acquainted. FayM was appreciative of Amelia's many talents (and the golds she brought in) and Amelia was always in need of a good feeding. They looked out for each other, in their own special way. But now she was alone, and sat where she crumbled, and let the sadness consumed her.