[28]
It's almost like the bad end of a car chase scene. Tiny bits of bloodied glass--maybe it's a windshield, no, it looks like a soda bottle--is sprinkled along the tarred pavement of the street, glittering in the sunlight. A purse lies half open not too far away, contents scattered, cell phone broken.
That's not the only thing that's broken. Standing over the mess is Kate, just as broken as the material items, dressed in a private school uniform. She knows that purse, that cell phone, even the glass of a favorite soda.
Panicked, Kate's eyes dart over the area: it's her home street and her mother's lying on the sidewalk, blood pooling around her head. Her lifeless eyes are open, blue pupils dilated and dark with death. Nothing stops Kate from running over to her mother except the uselessness of her own two feet. They won't move, not even to march in place.
A pair of paramedics toss a sheet on her body with no compassion. The thin fabric drapes on her mother's body like an old unloved blanket put into storage. The blood soaks through, turning the sheet pink and then dark red. She's screaming at them. She's trying to tell them that's her mother, please give her some compassion, but they ignore her. It's like she's a ghost and they're not sensitive to the paranormal. It's like she has no voice to fall upon their deaf ears.
The touch of a warm hand on Kate's elbow knocks her back into some semblance of calm. She glances down and the faceless hand pushes a newspaper toward her with its headline blaring in thick black ink:
PUBLISHING MAGNATE WIFE MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD
She doesn't remember when she took the paper into her own hands, but Kate realizes the exact moment of when it slips from them. Her screams die; they are now choking sobs. "I'm sorry. Mommy, I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I'm sorry I didn't stop him."
Off to Kate's right, a woman appears, but this time those dead eyes are full of life and her skin is free of crimson and her face is filled with the gentle kind of smile a TV mom has on her face while holding a tray of fresh-baked cookies. "You can't save them all," she whispers, hand stroking Kate's ponytail. "You can't save me."
Her mother's hand stills and the smile disappears. Her form is fading away, faster than Kate wants it to. It's a mad dash and scramble to try and hold on to her mother, but all Kate's hands catch is warm air.
"Honey, save yourself. You'll need to soon, Kate."
[ooc: I know I said I wasn't posting but hey, whatever. Dream is open to one and all for anything.]