Blue Hour (Parker vs Empty Eyes) [Clue Plot]

Every photograph is a snapshot of the past. A flickering of a flame that never quite dies. A cemented piece of history that resides in a single moment. The photo in her pocket weighing down as a memory of the guilt she carries. The weight of her own wrongs bubbling up to the surface with a burning to her throat. The testament of how much she hides away from everyone else to seem put together and having the solution to everything, but she bleeds all the same. Worries all the same. Fights all the same. As she can hear Empty Eyes' words, she can feel the way her humanity still rests out in the open.

A fragile and pitiful thing.

All of them had been.

"Your fun doesn't matter. Only mine."

The fire from before burning in her lips for the desperate desire to speak up, but she can't muster up the courage. The feeling of sluggishness in her veins as the hammer in her hand swings down, begging to crunch bones and hear the satisfying end of the horror she's been stuck living over and over and over again. Nightmares of those hollow sockets just staring back at her as the blood spills from broken knuckles; the joints never quite feeling right ever since she's woken up in the hospital from the attack. Her own family crying over her as if she'd almost been lost for good.

Maybe she's already been lost.

Everything already burns the same.

Collision leads to her strike reigning true, but there's no sound of breaking. No crunch to make her anger filter away. No sign of weakness as the hammer collides with skin. A heavy feeling burns in her throat as she wants to desperately call for someone. A shout that she wants to get out from her lips, but instead she only hears the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. The feeling of knowing she's burning and burning and burning. A cycle of fear bubbling forth as her breath goes heavy.

A shifting movement leads to a burn in her stomach; the fear coating her body in wanting to stay alive. The adrenaline heaving at the feeling as her eyes slowly drift downwards to see the blade ripping open her abdomen; fire setting ablaze with a white flash in her eyes as if the flash of a camera had gone off. The burn sets in as her eyes widen in shock. The fear hurts worse than the wounds; unknowing of what she can do in this moment. The pull leads to another push as the blade reenters her abdomen leaving more red spilling forth as if she couldn't burn anymore.

As her eyes come back up, she can see the lopsided mask of empty eyes, those nightmarish looks finally giving way to flesh, to skin, to a physical being only making her swirl in the pain and burn. A gaze stabbing her just as hard as the realization that comes forth. Her own lips wanting to shout the name at the top of her lungs, but she can't breath. She can't feel her hands. There's a chill that's come from the burn; echoing along the edges of her appendages. The fear burning the edges of her heart, echoing along with the dark red spilling from her abdomen mixing with the concrete floor, leaving behind a burn of failure echoing across her vision.

Realization hits.

Parker Gautier knew she was going to die.

The words of fear on the tips of her lips wanting to scream out, but she can't. She can't feel her lips. Those eyes staring back at her as the smile burns through her skull, finding itself in the roots of her mind. The ache of knowing she's figured everything out, but being unable to stop it all. Unable to save herself. Frustration melting with the fear, the echo of pain in her stomach as she gasps for air, but is unable to find it. The light from her eyes dripping by the second, but she already knew how long it'd take to die.

Six pathetic minutes.

The brain can live for six minutes without oxygen.

Six brutal minutes of feeling blood spill from her wounds; staring back at the person who's fixing their mask now. A smile and those cold dead eyes staring back at her. The burning of her own failure; death already setting in. Acceptance of what's to come for her. A life filled with so much joy having spiraled into a pit of despair. A loneliness setting in that she couldn't ever fight against. The silence would be deafening for her; a reminder of how alone she's always been since losing her best friend and herself to the game of high school and losing.

Nothing to be remembered for.

Only just a wall of snapshots into what her life could have been. A family who'll set up another funeral with more weight than any of them had ever had. Never able to hear her mother try to understand or her father telling her she's his special girl or her brothers to tease her about anything and everything. Parker's going to be nothing more than a memory to be forgotten. A person to be just another faceless memory until they fade away into nothing. All of it burns as she stares up, body crumbling from underneath her as she can feel the blood seeping out of her shirt; pooling into an image of the girl who stares up at death with fear in her eyes.

Desperate to change the path set into motion, but unable to do so.

The other students wouldn't care. Grady will name her death deserved. Stella will step over her body as if she were nothing. Maverick would be sad, but ultimately smoke away those feelings. Zeke would blame himself for all of it. Clara would lose another piece of her past. So many faces of people who'll end up not caring in the long run. Alone, she'll die knowing none of them saw her as the girl she desperately tried to be. Putting up an act to stand out because her morals were better than high school. She was better than it. There's a sorrow in feeling so alone, an ache to have wished for better, but she can't focus on it anymore.

Eyes drifting up to look to sky, echoing colors turning into the blackness of the night. Stars shining through, but she can feel the minutes that seem to last a lifetime finally end. The release of a final gasping breath on her lips as she can feel her body give. The coldness replacing the burn until it eases out into a nothingness where she can see the smile and empty eyes remaining behind her.

As she can feel the hatred burning behind those empty eyes, everything fades for the final time.

An emptiness unlike any other.

For a second, she's alone with nothing.

An empty void where nothing resides; floating for what feels like hundreds of lifetimes.

Until she falls, dropping back to solid ground and the emptiness gives way to black wings, feathers spilling around her vision until she can see a man.

"Parker Gautier. An unusual case."

Wings spread out with each word, endless skies of stars burned into the wings. Brown eyes staring her down with almost a glare until they soften.

"Well. It's settled then. I'm Ronan."

The voice echoes; a itching feeling of wishing she had a camera burning.

"A guide for lost souls."

For a second, she can feel a comfort pulling at her heart.

Feathers pulling at her back until the black spills from her.

A guide for lost souls.

That's what she'll be.

That's what she's always been.