But the girl had wings and precious things, under sheets with tangled limbs
"Qua illic est infirmitas permissum illic exsisto vires."
My mother's words fill up the air like the smoke of the candles lighting the dim attic. I can't understand what she's saying but I know that it's important. It's hard to see through the smoky darkness but I can find my sister. Her dark eyes cut like razors in the darkness, they aren't soft anymore.
"Haud magis atrum. Haud magis lux lucis. Intus posterus permissum illic tantum exsisto gray."
Without thinking I take Little Sister's hand in mine, like they're forced together except no one is doing the forcing. My hand already aches from the deep cut etched into my palm. My fingers lace around her's holding on tightly as streams of brightly dark blood stain the pentagram painted on the floor below us.
"Vinculum cannot exsisto infractus. Ut is est iam vadum is usquequaque exsisto."
I squeeze her hand and meet her eyes in the dark. Somewhere in my heart I know the fading innocence in front of me is only going to fade into nothing as time persists.
"Ut is est iam vadum is usquequaque exsisto."
My head hurts, pounds. Like I'm losing something that I don't even know exists.
"Ut is est iam vadum is usquequaque exsisto."
I stand up like something else is forcing my legs to move and cast one last look around the room. The blood on the floor steals my attention for a second too long before I race to the window and before I look I jump headfirst through the glass.
The water is like a cold wall on all sides of me, slaps me aside like a rag doll and I fumble through the murky blues and greens. My head hurts. Alot. I try to force my eyes to see through the foam and waves but I can't see a thing but more grey. I'm tired, sluggish and the sudden realization that I can't breathe hits me like a brick to the face as I sink even farther below the surface desperately trying to claw and fight my way to the top.
I sucked in a mouthful of air, gasping for breath as I sat up suddenly. Finally I realized that I wasn't underwater anymore and I'd been dreaming this whole time. What the fuck? Glancin' around it only took me a quick sec to put all the pieces together. I was laying on a sandy beach somewhere. It almost looked like the kind've place I'd married Harry in. Except I didn't see big fancy buildings and rich people in sarongs sipping expensive drinks. I didn't see anything except a bunch of scattered bodies on the beach. Some of them were moving. Some of them were not.
The boat. Christina O had gone sunk like the fucking Titanic and I'd been ready to say peace out with the ship until Harry told me he needed me to live. I guess it must've struck a chord somewhere in me cause the simple truth was I didn't wanna die. Harry was dead though. I tilted my chin down for a second and stared at the ocean beyond, Harry's watery grave.
At least now it was finally over. It was the truth, no matter how much I hated it. Standing up I dusted some of the sand off of my leather pants as I took a few steps closer to the water.
Goodbye Harry. I hope you'll find some peace now.
What about everyone else? I snapped out of my daze real quick when I thought about B, Kennedy, Connor, Angel, Fred, Dawn....what happened to them? Did they all make it? The odds of that weren't exactly awesome, I doubted Harry was the only one who died on the Christina O.
Where the fuck were we? I glanced back towards the island and realized I couldn't see a thing but more plain beaches and thick jungle. Deserted island? How fucking cliche. Obviously the boat wasn't hit by an ice berg.
"Buffy?" I called out, tryin' to keep my voice from panicking as I walked through the throngs of survivors on the beach. I glanced around but I didn't see anyone I knew.
"Angel? Connor?!"
My mother's words fill up the air like the smoke of the candles lighting the dim attic. I can't understand what she's saying but I know that it's important. It's hard to see through the smoky darkness but I can find my sister. Her dark eyes cut like razors in the darkness, they aren't soft anymore.
"Haud magis atrum. Haud magis lux lucis. Intus posterus permissum illic tantum exsisto gray."
Without thinking I take Little Sister's hand in mine, like they're forced together except no one is doing the forcing. My hand already aches from the deep cut etched into my palm. My fingers lace around her's holding on tightly as streams of brightly dark blood stain the pentagram painted on the floor below us.
"Vinculum cannot exsisto infractus. Ut is est iam vadum is usquequaque exsisto."
I squeeze her hand and meet her eyes in the dark. Somewhere in my heart I know the fading innocence in front of me is only going to fade into nothing as time persists.
"Ut is est iam vadum is usquequaque exsisto."
My head hurts, pounds. Like I'm losing something that I don't even know exists.
"Ut is est iam vadum is usquequaque exsisto."
I stand up like something else is forcing my legs to move and cast one last look around the room. The blood on the floor steals my attention for a second too long before I race to the window and before I look I jump headfirst through the glass.
The water is like a cold wall on all sides of me, slaps me aside like a rag doll and I fumble through the murky blues and greens. My head hurts. Alot. I try to force my eyes to see through the foam and waves but I can't see a thing but more grey. I'm tired, sluggish and the sudden realization that I can't breathe hits me like a brick to the face as I sink even farther below the surface desperately trying to claw and fight my way to the top.
I sucked in a mouthful of air, gasping for breath as I sat up suddenly. Finally I realized that I wasn't underwater anymore and I'd been dreaming this whole time. What the fuck? Glancin' around it only took me a quick sec to put all the pieces together. I was laying on a sandy beach somewhere. It almost looked like the kind've place I'd married Harry in. Except I didn't see big fancy buildings and rich people in sarongs sipping expensive drinks. I didn't see anything except a bunch of scattered bodies on the beach. Some of them were moving. Some of them were not.
The boat. Christina O had gone sunk like the fucking Titanic and I'd been ready to say peace out with the ship until Harry told me he needed me to live. I guess it must've struck a chord somewhere in me cause the simple truth was I didn't wanna die. Harry was dead though. I tilted my chin down for a second and stared at the ocean beyond, Harry's watery grave.
At least now it was finally over. It was the truth, no matter how much I hated it. Standing up I dusted some of the sand off of my leather pants as I took a few steps closer to the water.
Goodbye Harry. I hope you'll find some peace now.
What about everyone else? I snapped out of my daze real quick when I thought about B, Kennedy, Connor, Angel, Fred, Dawn....what happened to them? Did they all make it? The odds of that weren't exactly awesome, I doubted Harry was the only one who died on the Christina O.
Where the fuck were we? I glanced back towards the island and realized I couldn't see a thing but more plain beaches and thick jungle. Deserted island? How fucking cliche. Obviously the boat wasn't hit by an ice berg.
"Buffy?" I called out, tryin' to keep my voice from panicking as I walked through the throngs of survivors on the beach. I glanced around but I didn't see anyone I knew.
"Angel? Connor?!"