as fragile as a dandelion

a little extra

She clutched her head, protecting it with her hands and arms, but the kicks kept raining down. She felt the steel toed boots hitting her like bullets in the ribs, again, and again, and again. Sparks of pain ran through every single nerve in her body. She cried out. She screamed. No one heard. No one cared. No one listened. They were soldiers, listening to orders, the mission above all else, even the life of a 17 year old girl. She felt herself slowly slipping away.

This is what I wanted, so why am I so scared? Why do I feel like there's more for me?

Her arms slowly fell away from her face, blood leaking from her nose and mouth, tears running like tiny rivers down her face. Everything became blurry, distant, like she was under water. Breathing became more and more difficult. Slowly, she released every limb, every feeling. She slipped away in silence. As she drew her very last shaky breath, she felt at peace.

•••

August's POV

"We did it boss, she's gone." Julian said, entering my office without knocking, as always.

"Hm?" I asked, not really sure what he was talking about.

"The girl, Two, she's dead." Julian replied.

"YOU FUCKING DID WHAT!?"

"Boss? You said rough her up a little extra this time. That always means kill them." Julian said, confused.

I put my head in my hands. My heart crumbled.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. No no no. NO! She can't be gone, there's no way. This is a trick. It has to be. Please don't be real.

I ran out of my office, pushing past Julian.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!"

Monica was kneeling next to her lifeless body in the main room, checking her pulse.

"She's gone, A."

I rushed over to her side, her face was bloody and bruised, but she was as beautiful as ever. Her slightly upturned nose was leaking blood the color of fresh roses. Her perfect, pink, heart shaped lips were stained crimson. Her bright emerald eyes were glassy and empty. I grabbed her by the shoulders and held her head to my chest. She was cold and limp.

"DO SOMETHING! SOMEONE! GODDAMNIT BE USEFUL FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIVES!" I screamed, standing up, my voice cracking as I held back tears.

"Boss, why? Isn't it better that she's gone? Less trouble that way?"

NO ITS NOT BETTER BECAUSE I'M IN LOVE WITH HER!

"Tell me, genius, how the FUCK we're supposed to explain to Rick that his. Only. Fucking. Daughter. Is. Fucking. Dead. DO YOU WANT TO START A GANG WAR?!" I screamed again, losing my patience.

"No. No sir. HARLEY GET THE DEFIBRILLATOR NOW!"

Harley scurried off and I knelt back down. I pushed my hands into her chest, over and over again. I could feel the bruises and broken ribs through her tiny frame.

Please Two, please don't leave me. I need you. You don't know it but I need you. Come back to me. Please.

Nothing was happening. My heart was shattered, breaking more and more with each pump of my arms. I imagined how she felt in her final moments, alone and scared.

This is all my fault. I'm the reason she's gone.

My arms were getting tired, but there was no way I was giving up. Not now, not ever. She needs me. I will keep fighting for her. I will make this right.

Harley came sprinting in with the defibrillator. He threw it down next to me but since Monica was the only one here who actually had a medical degree, I threw it to her.

She ripped open Two's shirt, revealing a light pink, worn out bra and at least a hundred bruises on her torso. But that's not what I noticed. I noticed her ribs poking under her skin, so close the surface they were practically visible. She wasn't just tiny, she was malnourished, she was skinny, she was underfed.

Rick what the fuck? I knew you treated her like shit but do you even feed her?

As I looked closer I saw the scars. Thousands of them. Big, small, round, you name it. Cigarette burns, candle wax burns, knife marks, scratches, everything. Littering her skin like scales.

This is worse than I thought. Where did all these come from? If these are from Rick I swear to god I'll rip every limb from his body. I'll give him ten times as many scars.

I focused back on Monica. She was attaching the pads to Two's chest. "CLEAR!" She yelled, and we all stepped back.

As she clicked the button, Two's body seized. It almost looked like Two was moving herself. But I knew better. I put my ear up to her mouth, listening for something, anything, to tell me that she was back. There wasn't a sound, not a whisper, nothing. I stifled a sob.

"AGAIN!" Monica screamed, "CLEAR!"

I looked at Two, then back at Monica, helpless. Knowing I wouldn't hear anything. A single tear slipped down my cheek, and then another.

All of a sudden, she blinked. Her tiny chest rose, her lungs gasping for breath. I froze. I couldn't move. I just watched her chest, heaving. But Monica knew what to do.

"THE OXYGEN! SOMEONE GET THE FUCKING OXYGEN! SHE'S BREATHING!" Monica screamed, knowing that Two's life depended on it.

My heart soared. I looked down and bit my tongue to hold back tears of happiness.

Harley sprinted across the room with the oxygen tank and mask. Monica strapped it to her face and got it working at light speed. Those beautiful emerald eyes fluttered, once, and then again. I swear she looked into my own eyes, but I couldn't be sure. She closed her eyes.

Monica shouted more directions, seeming right in her element ordering a bunch of men around. They lifted her, as carefully as they could, like a fragile flower, and put her on the stretcher. Monica brought her into the sick wing. She hooked Two up to machines. All the while, I stayed by her side.