I'll be here forever

chapter 71

(A/N: a bit of a warning, this is a tad morbid)

A piercing, ragged scream tore from my sore throat.

My horrified gaze was met with Leo's eyes, and I simply stared for a moment. They were like bits of shattered glass, the shining fractals scattered every which way, rough and sharp and grey and very, very dead. His ash pale face was mere inches from mine, as cold and as dead as something that may very well have been a lifeless mannequin. He would've made the perfect one if it weren't for the blood on his cheek, the broken look in his eyes, the jagged hole in his abdomen, his blood staining the grass a dull brown.

Frozen in place, my eyes fixed on him, it almost seemed like he'd never really been alive at all.

A high-pitched, broken cry was pulled from my lips as I stared at him. And then another. And another. And another, until I was sobbing so hard that my chest felt as if it were going to burst, my despair dancing around the sounds of the forest, my tears dripping down my face and onto the earth below. I squeezed my eyes shut and then shoved my palms into the wells of my eyes, hard enough to hurt, trying to get him out of my mind, trying to get the tears to stop, but they wouldn't.

Steeling myself, I reluctantly pulled my hands back, my chest shuddering with sobs, and glanced downward.

It had been his hand. It had been his hand, his lifeless, unmoving hand. It hadn't been a stick at all- his hand was what had been poking into my back. His stiff fingers had been pressed into my skin. He had been right beside me the whole time- even as I'd screamed his name into the trees, clinging to the naive hope that he was still alive. He'd been right there.

And I cried. Oh, I cried, until I thought that there weren't any tears left, but they kept coming. They kept coming.

I could feel his gaze on me, an unmoving, penetrating, deadened stare that wasn't really a stare, but I liked to think of it as so. His eyes, they didn't move, but I wished they would.

Seeking comfort and forced by habit, my trembling hands reached for his; I think I expected them to be warm. Leo was always warm. But when I grabbed ahold of them, his hands were cold, clammy. Brittle. Limp. They burned against mine, but for the first time, it was the opposite- his hands were frigid and icy, slippery with blood, while mine were so hot that they might as well have been on fire.

I felt it coming, moving up in my throat; I shuddered, pulling into myself, and then I coughed, my lungs aching, my own blood leaving a strangely metallic taste on my tongue. I swallowed thickly, hating the taste.

I choked back a scream of frustration, or maybe just another heartbroken sob, and I let my eyes flutter shut. Immediately he filled my mind- his happy smile of this morning seemed so far away, something of another lifetime. How do those shy glances when he thinks I'm not looking this morning, a couple hours ago, turn into this stiff, dull stare?

I just couldn't do it anymore.

With a weak, shaky sigh, I gave up. I gave up. I let my hands fall limp to the ground, still wrapped around his, and I let my head fall and rest against the dirt, and I let my shuddering breaths still. Waiting to die. Waiting to fade away completely. Because what was the point of fighting it anymore?

I had no one left. No one left but Leo, and he was dead. He was dead, his body cold, his eyes still open but forever unseeing. I had no one left, so why did I have to keep fighting?

I found my thoughts, even as they slowed, came together to shine through the fog and give me one last gift.

Because he didn't deserve this.

And with a startle, I remembered what we were even here for. And I knew why I had to keep going.

Because Leo and I had set out to live. We had set out to be free of stupid prophecies and gods with anger issues and and goddesses who like meddling a little too much. To be free of monsters and curses and wars and death, which we hadn't managed to avoid.

Because only a couple of nights ago, Leo had quietly told me that when he was ready, he wanted to fly down to Houston, Texas, where he was born, and see if the charred remains of his childhood home were still there. Now he'd never get the chance to.

Because all Leo had ever really wanted was a happy ending.

And he took it from him. From me.

He took everything from me.

And another glittering thought of mine rose to the surface, this one black and smooth and determined, and I listened and tightened my grip on Leo's cold hands as it rolled through my mind;

Revenge.

If Leo didn't get to have his happy ending; maybe grow up, maybe have kids, maybe make little toys and machines for his grandchildren someday- why should he get to? Why did he get to walk away?

And if I didn't get to have my happy ending, the one I waited millennia for, the one I had my heart broken over and over for, the one I'd wished for since I was a child- then he won't, either.

And I don't care if it's the last thing I ever do.

I'll make damn sure he suffers every last bit as much as I have.