A Horrible Death
The immense force of weight nearly crushes her bones as she to the best of her ability and aid of her spirits attempts to leverage herself against the stony, algae infested surface at her back. The pain is alien and stingy at its core, Olivia does not know how distribute it as it rises akin to a compactor designed to demolish the stuff of metal and steel; the tiny insects, previously resident among the scaly coatings of the monstrosity, nags and bites at her aureate skin and digs underneath her fluorescently white nails. She knows in the depths of her heart that this is not the end, but if such the case would ever be, Olivia comforts at the thought of Magdalena being the soul with whom she stands next to and shares the immediate afterlife. She gazes at the white queen as they are offered relief from an otherwise certain death by the boy who all of his senses has lost to vicious bloodlust.
The madness within Aaron is absolute and cunning in its possession, wherein it asserts its will upon him and the horrid composition of fleshy molecules barely swallowed by the water that otherwise nearly drowns humanoid bodies. Olivia suffers nausea from the display of utter recklessness and bloodshed and she knows not what to vocalize or empathize; she is stunned. She saddens at the thought of her failure to contain the beast that once slept safely within the grasp of her beauteous manipulation, who would at the slightest whiff of her exquisite fragrance or at the tiniest sound of her mesmerizing voice abide by her every wish; it was no more. He derives pleasure from his villainous acts and to the world displays a hideous grin to which children of youth would petrify in terror. Olivia looks at him with disdain but also with concern, she feels betrayed yet relieved. She disengages her view of Aaron with overwhelming sorrow.
Olivia looks to her dearest beside her when Kimberly suddenly appears akin to some knight in shining armor, spreading admiration and concern for the pale girl, however nearly disremembering his now superior within the ranks of official matters of the Academy and war. She forgets and forgives the boy’s burst of hormonal priorities and rejoices in his self-imposed correction as to who that subsisted in his presence. The rejuvenation warms her golden stature with ardent remedies of ethereal attributes. Olivia is grateful, but her thoughts and empathy is disrupted by the monstrosity that before her and the white queen struggles to maintain its supremacy; the assaults by Aaron and Kimberly are vicious and vitality draining. The horrid creature suddenly utters an uncomfortably loud screech of some gurgling features that causes it to lose balance and flounder in the murky waters. Olivia flinches at the sound and draws Magdalena near her to embrace, arms around the white one’s neck, chilled by the waters about; she does not look at her friend, only the behemoth that before them for its life with every ounce of energy attempts to fight.
The Caudata faces the precipice of the endless void, confused and disoriented in its movements and decisions. Another strike, another attempt at its life, and it shall forever be no more.
Ambush
When the friends finally emerged from the depths of the Norton City underbelly, having fought monstrous creatures and bathed in waters that could only be described as foul, they were welcomed into the cold night by an entire battalion of Nautilus forces. Somehow they had known about the Guardians’ presence in the city and plotted their destination. The friends were staring into the barrels of tanks, they felt the heat from jetpacks hovering above them, dozens of hulking Nautilus Mechs, and their clothing and armor were dotted with myriads of red laser pointers. The odds were simply against them. Even if Olivia ordered her squad to act, they would barely bring down a third of the opposing force before they would be horribly gunned down by sheer, overwhelming firepower. The battalion general of the Nautilus forces ordered the WARG soldiers to place their weapons and armor on the deck and surrender. They had no other choice than to comply.
As their weapons and armor was carried away and the friends were secured by the enemy force, Olivia attempted to backtrack their steps in her mind to figure out where they could have been identified. They had been quite careful with not being spotted and they eliminated most of the soldiers that they came in contact with. However, the possibility of the Norton City armed forces being infiltrated did not escape her thoughts. There could have been someone amongst all those soldiers that the friends spoke to before entering the sewers that worked for Nautilus. Olivia quaked at the myriads of possibilities that could have led to their capture, even more so at what she could have done differently to prevent it. Their mission had failed and the most likely outcome of it all would be that Norton City would fall. She could not help but to feel that it was entirely her fault.
The friends were forced to wear black hoods on their heads to obstruct vision. From the ten minute, or so, ride in a personnel carrier, Olivia guessed that they had been brought to the outskirts of the city under Nautilus control. It was not until the friends had been brought deep inside some facility complex that their hoods were removed. They found themselves in an abandoned kitchen large enough to support dozens of personnel. An inactive freezer had been prepared as a temporary holding cell for the Guardians. The heavy door had been clad with electrified wiring on the inside in order to prevent them from breaking it down. Outside, in the kitchen area, several automated turrets had been installed and aimed at freezer door, in the event that the friends would break out. When that heavy, electrified door sealed shut with the friends inside, all they had was each other in the cold dark for the night.
Hours later…
A Trail of Blood *
The heavy door to the inactive freezer room in which they slept had been mysteriously unlocked. Olivia had suddenly sprung awake by some distant metallic sound coming from the myriads of hallways and spaces leading to the underground kitchen area. She could feel and sense a scent in the air that was oddly familiar to her, however mixed with blood and death. Olivia was closest to the door, even if the friends had slept next to each other in a giant pile of bodies to preserve heat. The freezer room may have been deactivated, but it was still frigid. The girl slowly happened upon her feet and peeked outside. It was with sheer terror that she noticed an extensive trail of blood leading from where the guard had been stationed outside the freezer room to some unknown distance at the other end of the kitchen. The blood was fresh. Someone had been there recently and opened the freezer room only to see at least Olivia. Why had she and her friends been spared whatever fate the unfortunate guard had to suffer?
Olivia faced away from the scene and snuck back inside the freezer room to where her friends were still sleeping. As silently as she possibly could, she woke them up one by one. The dark haired girl had no clue as to what was going on, and the fact that they did not have any weapons or protection made her even more cautious. They did not say a word. Olivia forced them to use tactical sign language as they slowly exited the freezer room, covering corners and dangerous angels from which they could possibly be attacked. They might have been unarmed, but they were not helpless. Even if they themselves were prone to forgetting it, most people around the world were constantly aware of Guardian’s superior knowledge of martial arts and their otherworldly strength and agility. Some of the friends were naturally more graceful than others in this field and Olivia made sure to utilize that. Kimberly had point. The rest of them picked up whatever props they could find to as weapons.
The atmosphere was moody and the friends witnessed something they had either never seen before or not experienced in a long time: wayward spirits. Every corner of the endless hallways and stairwells were crowded by lost spirits that wailed at each other and the friends as they passed them by. The innocent phantoms had no desire to seek refuge in either of them. The spirits had been ravaged and spat out again by something or someone, probably whatever or whoever that had caused the trail of blood and murdered every living being in the building except the friends. Olivia was genuinely terrified and every bone in her body was trembling. As they climbed a dark stairwell in an attempt to reach the surface, the friends could hear noises coming from the bloodied path that Olivia so desperately wanted to avoid. The thought crossed her mind: was it whoever or whatever had caused all of this or was it a survivor? It was a risk she had to take. If it was a survivor, she would never have been able to forgive herself for leaving him or her behind.
Olivia gave Kimberly the proper sign language to silently open the door which would lead them into yet another hallway with myriads of connecting rooms. The girl had no idea where in the city they were, if they were even in the city still. The ambush could have taken them anywhere, but they were not on Nautilus, that was for sure as they’d hear and feel the engines of that massive city-sized aircraft. The noises continued to sound from one of the connecting rooms. It sounds as if someone or something was rumbling through supplies or searching for something. The friends moved tactically down the hallway, covering each doorway and locks as they went. When they finally reached the entrance from which the noises could be heard, Olivia stopped Kim and took point herself. If something were to happen, it was going to happen to her, rather than anyone else.
Olivia carefully and slowly peeked inside the room. She could see the back of what appeared to be a bantam stature of some girl. It seemed improbable that this person had caused all of this horrid bloodshed and she did not appear to carry any official patterns or colors of any armed forces. When the girl shifted her attention to some cabinet files and the paper therein, Olivia caught a glimpse of her face—she could barely believe her eyes. Olivia instantly recognized who it was even if she had not seen this girl in countless of years, and the last time she saw her, the girl was but five years old or there about. If Olivia was not mistaken, this was Samuel Valentine’s younger sister. Olivia exited her cautious guard around the corner of the doorway and positioned herself in full view.
“Sofia?” the dark haired girl said.
Flashback: Helston
When was the last time she heard that laugh? Smelled that smell? Felt those hands? Safe within that protective, relaxed gaze? Sofia pawed at a ball of yarn. Night had befallen the town of Helston. Several years had passed since the beginnings of the First Contact war had reached their borders. Many villagers had passed away that night. Isaac the baker, Jasmine the tailor, Rufus the town beggar, and so many more. Friends had ceased and rejoined the lifestream as the xenomorphs wretched their bodies to and fro within their alien-like orifices. Sofia had seen them. Those limbs soon to become nightmares of the children. Although the monstrosities fresh in her mind to this very day, little could satisfy the loss of Samuel. Before the cursed xeno’s took him away, she remembered vividly of her brother fighting back one of those small, dog-like creatures. He promised her he would come back — to her whom hided away in the cellar like coward. That was all she was. A coward. While little could be expected from her ten year old self from back then, her friends — those her age — acted and died in defense of Helston. Now, there was nothing left for her here. An empty husk she had become with this place being nothing more than an anchor to her self-induced madness.
The wooden floor of her home creaked as her mother walked in. She could see it in her eyes. Despair mixed with annoyance. Her mother had tried to help her. Had her see the doctor. She didn’t understand, the worthless cow. “Sofia? Dear? Suppers ready. Father picked some fresh vegetables straight from the garden. Come downstairs?” Sofia remained as still as the statues forever locked on the town’s churches columns. Silent creatures all studying the tiny insects that scurried at their feet, vanity amongst the undesirables, and the illusions Samaritans hid behind for personal gain. She wondered what they thought. Surely the representations of the servants of Kami had thought? Or were they just spirits? Beings transcending humans in comprehension yet vulnerable to the wet appetites of the xeno’s?
“Sofia? I said dinner’s ready.”
“I heard you,” Sofia said. Her voice hard and blunt — betraying her youth. She tugged at the oversized blanket that warmed her from the warm night. Everything was cold. So cold. “I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat something.”
“I shall decide what I have or do not have to do. Not you!” Grieving. They all did it. A funeral for Samuel without a body in the casket. Many had come. What complete, insufferable annoyance they had all been. She wanted to claw the eyes out of the fat lady who scolded her brother day in, day out. Prudence the matchmaker. How awkwardly ironic that the single lady matched others together. Sofia hated her. “This normalcy, this calm, it’s sickening! People going about their days forgetting what happened years ago. Have you been to the cemetery mother? Graffiti. Vandalism. Hello? Tar and feather the one’s who did it! Noose them! Yet the constable — the new one — turns a blind eye. Why? The mayor’s son. Protected by his father’s reach, the affronts are glanced over. Oh, but don’t worry, I suppose the keeper has already cleaned them. The drawings.
“I can’t get the carnage out of my head. Can you mother? Everyone I knew is either rotting in the ground or left. Samuel’s friends even left. And I’m to remain here? With father and you? How spiteful the cursed Kami.” Sofia met the hard stare of her mother dead on. She wasn’t afraid. What worse could this … woman do that the creatures hadn’t already. Preparing for an argument, her mother surprised her by the softened expression she assumed. He hand shaking on the door handle, mother turned back and headed for the stairs. “We’ll … be waiting downstairs. Until you come. Father’s tired Sofia. Make him happy by hurrying along now.” The door closed gently behind the middle-aged woman. Sofia rested her arm on the chair. What did it matter if father was tired or not. She felt nothing for them anymore. Sighing, she looked into the corner. Unseen to those that it wished to remain hidden from, several figures emerged from the shadows — each a different rendition of her.
Her spirits. Taking on forms that it pleased, they were the only ones that understood her. Pale skinned with blackish pits for eyes, the spirit grinned sickly at her. The other, beautiful like her, remained quiet, its expression constant. They had come to her when nobody could. They were her medicine. Comfort in silence.
“At least I have you,” she said to the two spirits. Certainly, she felt more, but it was only these two that showed up. It frightened at first. The symptoms of schizophrenia often came with the mind blending reality and fiction together. All that nonsense was dispelled when she dealt with one of the mayor’s son’s cronies. For all that the village knew, he had disappeared one night. His body never recovered. “If I were to leave this cesspool of town, would you follow me?”
The pale-ish doppelgänger’s grin widened even more while the other gave a curt nod. Weird clicking sounds emitting from their throats.
Getting to her feet, she folded the blanket she was using and placed it neatly on the chair. “What was that picture? Of the old religion? Ah yes. The Last Supper. This shall be ours my dears. The mayor’s son shall be our final course. Save the most satisfying for the last. That’s how a real queen should dine, no?”
The City of Norton
Verena slid her dagger across a Norton soldier’s throat as her group moved through the city with relative ease. Having assumed a new name to shed away the attachments of her old life, she had been drifting from city to city, army to army. Up until now, she had no goal except to fill her lonely years with the vanities she had once sneered at. She reveled in chaos, death, and the thrill of near death by another’s rusted blade. This life suited her more than Helston could ever have offered her.
“You’re one sick bitch.” Verena looked back as a Nautilus soldier saw her handiwork. It wasn't sickness. It was art. Her art. “You don’t think this is overboard?”
She walked up to the soldier as the others shifted. She could hear the metallic scuffling of their rifles. She could taste their nervousness. She was an Aggressor after all. The unpredictable of their counterparts — the guardians. Slowly clasping her hand on the man’s chin, she pulled his face downwards to met her gaze. “Very few can appreciate the art that I create from another’s body,” she said. “Whether and act is sick or beautiful, that is subjective to the person who views it. You, a soldier who riddles the body of another with holes miss the aesthetics of the crimson liquid the courses through us all. How could you appreciate something like that? Silly man.
“Killing by one’s hands though.” She took a step closer to the soldier. She could feel weapons trained on her now. “There is beauty in it. Rejoice for it is not you who I was paid to kill. Do you know what your commander, captain, whatever has ordered me to do?”
“If you don’t unhand me, you won’t live to fulfill that order, Aggressor.”
Verena chuckled. The fear was music to hear ears. A symphony she could understand and savor. Her skin crawled and tingled. Simply delicious. “With the company of soldiers — namely you — we are to fight our way to the artillery batteries. Something about putting them under Nautilus control — even though your people already captured them. No etiquette was given to me. So, I shall deal with our enemies as I see fit. You are but a formality. A safeguard to your nation's investment. So, speak not a word and follow. That’s what you soldiers do, do you not?”
Gently slapping the man’s cheek, she stepped back as she heard the clicking of her spirits grow louder. She had learned to read them. She could tell when they were excited or when they were displeased. Right now, they were jubilant. A choir following the strokes of the conductor.
Without another word, she spun on her heels and continued to walk down the desolate street. There was another reason she was here in this despondent city riddled with acrid smoke and the dying. Several months prior, she had seduced a potato of a man whom held status in Tyria. The sweat and the sounds the man made — she killed him soon after. She enjoyed it, but she enjoyed the news much more. She followed the trail with the fanaticism of a blood hound. Finally, after years of wandering, she had found purpose. No more senseless killings, smuggling, using, and stealing. Purpose.
After passing a few books, the navigation officer behind her updated the group that they were headed the right way. Verena kept moving when a gunshot rang out. The power from the spirits gave her heightened speed and perception, which saved her. The Nautilus storm trooper behind her was not as fortunate. How stupid the man. Even she knew bunching up was a grave mistake. This situation was her case and point.
The storm trooper wasted no time in return fire. Their bullets peppered the building where the Norton defenders had set up. She counted a hand full plus a sniper from the fourth level somewhere. As the gunfire was focused on the storm troopers, Verena sprinted from cover as she made her way towards the Norton soldiers from the right.
She entered from the side with practiced stealth cultivated from the many break-ins she had committed. Appearing in the next room, she saw an opposing soldier firing onto her temporary allies. She snuck up quietly, clasped his mouth shout and rammed her blade into his spine. She held him like a mother would a child as he struggled for life, but it left him soon enough. Kicking his body away, she moved on to deal with the others in a similar fashion.
The Nautilus soldiers weren’t incompetent as she initially thought. Many of the Norton soldiers — battered down from earlier fighting it seemed — were dying from bullet wounds and other things. She dealt them death with the help of her spirits — imploding each from the inside, like confetti. She checked on that sniper she spotted from outside. She was already dead.
“Clear!” Verena was sitting on a bullet ridden couch as her companions joined her. One of the storm troopers gagged and threw up from the sight within. “Kami!”
“Took you long enough,” Verena said as she flicked away a piece of unknown substance. “Any of you injured?”
“Look at this place,” said a storm trooper. The same one that called her a ‘sick bitch’. She wondered what he thought now. “You did this … with you knife?”
Verena laughed. “With a temper. Woman’s temper mind you.”
“You’re barely old enough to be my daughter!” the soldier said. “For Kami’s sake, you shouldn’t be in this damn war zone! What you do is hardly normal. A temper? This is your magic, witch!”
“Tell me, my dear,” she said as she shifted on the couch. “Are you not a soldier?”
“Career.”
Verena’s spirits flickered into the plane where the other’s could see them. She heard gasps come from their masked mouthes. “Idealism or morality. They blind you to the reality of your line of work,” she said. “For instance, your country's invasion has taken the lives of many girls who could’ve been or are your daughter's age. Under the rumble, your mechs, your very boots, they die to people like you. What you lack — or do not want to believe — is the reality of your soldiering. Bitter realization no?” Parting her hands and giving a mock bow, Verena laughed and leaned back. “Allow me to be your guide for this cruelty. A reality that frightens the strongest on men but delights the most wicked.
“Now, onto these artillery platforms. Counseling, my dear trooper, wasn’t a service you paid for. Only death, death, and much more death.”
The rest of the journey was relatively uneventful as Verena surveyed the artillery platforms. The Nautilus forces that were stationed there were all but wiped out. The people responsible caused a mix of nausea, anger, longing, revenge, betrayal, and many other motions to churn in her stomach. She wanted to hit someone, kill someone, fuck someone, succumb to her episodes of substance abuse, anything to quell this feeling.
Samuel’s childhood friends were here. It took her everything in her power to resist going down there and attempting to kill all of them. She had spent so many years sealing away the memories of ‘Sofia’ and would rather die than have them resurface.
“That’s WARG,” said different storm trooper. Behind those masks they all looked the same to her. “So that’s why we hired on Aggressors.”
“You’re too loud!” Verena said as she fought to focus on the task at hand. As long as they stayed the hell away from her, it would be no problem. “Well, get on with it then! Go secure your precious hunks of metal.”
“Chill little lady,” the trooper said. “You’re coming down as well.”
“I have more important things to deal with,” she said. She got to her feet as she heard a weapon cock back. She looked back. She smiled. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Until our mission is done — or the Captain renders your services void, you are still under my command.” She really hated the trooper. He’d been giving her a hard time since she got here. “Either stay on mission or a summary execution will be carried out.”
Pulling out her daggers, Verena shimmered with energy as she pain coursed through her body. She teleported behind the farthest storm trooper as she quickly disposed of the woman and made her into a human shield. She threw her dagger at the other as she turned into a whirlwind of death. As the Nautilus soldiers slowly died, she teleported again behind the ‘bitch’ sayer. She worked slowly on him.
He was on his knees as she Verena breathed hard. Using the spell that kills to teleport had always left her so. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“But,” said the trooper. “I will. Once you le—“
The trooper’s mouthed clamped shut as Verena slowly stole the life that was left in the man as it channeled into her. Equivalent Exchange. A savior to her and her allies, yet it was a curse to others. It transgressed onto the territory of taboo arts. She kissed the man’s forehead as he crumpled over. “The greatest insult of all. Dying without a soul.”
“Sofia?”
Verena stiffened. Though she was warned, the name caught her off-guard. There were only a handful of people who knew that name. That voice. So sweet and beautiful to her ears yet crueler than father winter’s piercing icy gale. She had called them in - the WARG operatives. It seemed it was too much to hope that Nautilus would've taken care of them.
She turned around. “Serendipitous moments in life can cause one to fall into a state of rapture or a state of repulsion,” she said. Tears brimmed at her eyes as she fought the internal battle within. Joy overcame solitude while anger vanished kindness. A contrasting dichotomy, each fighting to overpower the other. “In this instance, it is the latter. Sofia is but a distant memory to me, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget you — particularly you Olivia. Or you lot.” A hint of curiosity entered her. “Is Magdelena still with you or has she moved on?”
Holding up a stack of papers, she mentioned to the hallways outside. “Before I forget, dear Olivia, did you enjoy the painstakingly prepared red carpet? I would’ve welcomed all of you personally, but you see? I was busy. Someone we all know was responsible. Oh, how crave to tear his eyes out and embrace him at the same time. A kinder treatment than the Norton and Nautilus soldiers received from me, I assure you.”
Olivia’s slightly smirked lips morphed and deformed into a state of bewilderment as the young girl of the long lost past spoke words that did not coincide with pervious, ancient conceptions of her being. The words were much more antagonistic than the aureate skinned, dark haired girl wanted to admit to herself. When Sofia mentioned Magdalena, Olivia made a gesture to the blonde that indicated not to reveal herself in the doorway. There was no way to predict any form of outcome at this point. Sofia was clearly not the person Olivia remembered from their days in Helston. Olivia’s heart began to pulsate rapidly when the young girl before her kept referring to someone other than herself as the cause of the mayhem they had witnessed, someone they all knew. Olivia feared what Sofia thought she knew or who she thought was responsible. There was no way that she meant who Olivia thought she meant.
“Sofia… who are you talking about?”
Pulling out her dagger, Verena chuckled as she came towards the table that separated the two. She saw the hesitance in Olivia’s eyes. Was she a friend or foe? That was the question. Slamming the point into the wooden table, she carved out a grotesque ’S’.
“Don't you dare use that name! Sofia, she was a weak little child. As for who? The very man you all grew so infatuated with. The catalyst of the withering of Helston. The cause of this … pain I feel. In my chest. It hurts,” she said. “But then I found solace in these spirits. You have them too don’t you? The power they give. Simply astounding. You’re part of WARG now. Congratulations. I’m sorry that Nautilus couldn’t have kept you locked away. I did warn them.
“I really didn’t want to see any of you. All the same, I killed the Nautilus soldiers I was with. Why? For fun — and for you lot. But I digress. Surely I’m not the focal point of interest. You wish to defend Norton. Commendable. But, the maestro behind all of this? The politicians of Nautilus? No. My dear Olivia, Samuel is not dead. Quite the opposite.” Verena pushed a couple of papers towards Olivia. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite — for now. Look at the last paragraph of that sheet. Not sure about the others, but there’s a phrase in there that only Samuel would use. Oh, don’t look so confused. Rearrange the words in the second to the last sentence.”
Verena clapped her hands together. “My brother has become something abhorrent yet ethereal. This orchestra of violence, it sings to me.” Remembering something, she turned away and smiled. "I do believe we’re at an impasse. I was contracted by Nautilus you see, and you all are with Norton. Are we to be enemies? To fight acquaintances is a sickening thought.”
Olivia refused to believe it. Everything that the girl said seemed impossible to be true, perhaps even some elaborate hoax or plot to lead the friends down a road to certain death. Olivia approached the table slowly and cautiously, some of her friends pouring into the tiny office after her, others waiting and guarding in the corridor with the trail of blood at their feet. The dark haired girl had to sit down, feeling winded and ready to pass out. The man she had been and was so obsessively in love with was alive, and apparently he had caused all of this bloody evil that they had pushed themselves through just moments ago. Olivia did not need much time to see what the paper had to say about what was supposedly Samuel. She already knew what he used to say: “I trust everyone. It’s the devil inside them I don’t trust,” Olivia said out loud, with a blank stare.
Olivia suddenly and violently pushed the table aside and approached Sofia, but without touching the girl, and yelled in her face: “Samuel is dead! I don’t know what you think you’re up to, missy, but these are malicious lies! Even if he was alive, he would never do something like this!”
Verena smiled as she turned around. Olivia stood before her. The frustration and disbelief was obvious through her eyes. But why would Verena lie about all of this? She had spent her whole entire life after leaving Helston in efforts to forget anything about Samuel. Even her parents. Her weak mother and father. The mayor’s son she had carved into the ground, everything.
She could only shrug. “I trust everyone. It’s the devil inside them I don’t trust,” Verena said. “Isn’t that what you found too? A coincidence? I think not. The words are far too specific to be random circumstance. Out of all the lies I’ve snaked into the minds of men, this is the one boundary I dare not cross. I’ve been following this trail for a long time my dear. Paved the way red to obtain it. I don’t care if you’d like to convince yourself otherwise. I’m going to track him down. Question him — you know a reunion — then return him to the tombstone in Helston marked ‘Samuel Valentine. Loving brother, son’ blah … blah … blah.”
Her heart aches and her bones crumble, unable to breathe and unable to move. She quakes in fear of the man that once to her had been the reason for which the stars and beauteous galaxies existed, who in her inspired the essence and meaning of anything that could ever be named synonymous to love.
“I…” Olivia sits stunned and mute, unable to speak.
