the love and let go

Lord have mercy, never created a better savior than love - I can't say I'm unsavable. For every whisper and spoken word, we went our own way, our own allies; I watched him split the opposite way. Staying together is attempted murder, I understand that, and I don't understand much. I want to say I understand these things but I don't think I ever will, and with time running out there's no sense in dying for it. 

[ wip bc i have to do things SORRY skipping to the fun bits, TL;DR
-has mad kinky sex obvi
-dies 
-jk he's just thirsty
-gets blanketed, blames god 
-god is dead 2k17 kanye is all that's real
-cries probably, realizes he's gonna be lost
-alone again?? THROW BACK TO SCARLET LOL
-time 2 die children
-panicks ]

Breathe, a whisper, a rattle through my bones and my muscles. Cotton. 

My fingers prod at fabric, rubbing and scratching and pulling and- "FUCK" - pardon my tongue. Screaming profanities at night, hair pulled back, sweat damp against threads and fingertips and I'm alone. I can't see- no, no no I can't see a thing, trying to wrap and warp cloth to do my bidding. Desperate, a pulling -- it isn't successful, nothing more than shadows peeking through threads. 

I'm going to die.

Alone. 

And I try to breathe again, try to catch my breath but its caught in fabric threads to fine to grasp, and I crouch to my knees, trying to make out individual toes on my feet as I heave. Shit- I'm going to die here, for a second I thought there was a chance, of something of something ridiculous and stupid and I cough into my knees, pressing my palms into where my eye sockets. 

I'm going to die, alone. Eszter and Elettra left me- I left Lucas. Just as Scarlett left me, the armor on my skin and I still feel small. I'm no warrior, I've never been, my breath caught in my throat in coughs, in chokes and I sit where the elephants ran. Where I watched Iris die, where I should have died. 

No, no no I can't die here, not here. My fingers stuttering and I can't be still, but I've learned it's not worth trying to, not after three days of this. 

Think- the one person who can't leave me, as much as I've been trying to leave myself behind it's not my time and I can't- it can't be. Digging my fingers in pockets of wax, fingernails scrapping into colorless somethings and think of what I know. What I've already done, how I got through this the first time. 

Eszter- then axes. 

I don't even remember how I did that god, fuck me god oh dear lord I'm going to die here, trying to flatten grassland for something smooth- what if it doesn't work. How will I even know? 

God have mercy, tell Brooke I'm coming. 

I trace something familiar, pan hammer, big handle- wait no too small shit; okay okay, try again. The process repeats, a few times, a few good attempts let me say. I keep trying to make them the way I made that first axe but I can't tell with satin in my eyes -- too small, too thin, good lord.

Lucas would be better at this than me. 

[ firestorm ]