Sparrow

Alternate ending

For those who want to read, be prepared, if you don't want to—don't.

Suicide trigger warning

Lorenzo POV

It's funny.

All of it.

That she came into my life in a flash just as she left it. Both times I was unprepared. Both times left me completely and utterly altered. Both times, I couldn't figure out what was gone wrong

Both times there was blood. The same kind, the same family tree, despite how twisted and broke it's branches were.

Both times the blood just stained me.

Her brothers didn't make me feel anything, I didn't care when I saw his brains pool on the floor. When he bled and bled and bled and died and turned cold as ice.

But hers, god, it just fucking burned. It burned my skin and burnt and burnt. It was all I could smell, it's metallic scent scaring my senses as I laid on those blood red sheets.

She was lifeless in my arms, long dead, Her hair was thrown and knotted and her skin was freezing. Her lips were blue and in the darkness I could still see the way her eyes were lifeless and blank.

The colour of her eyes are my favourite colour. Before her, colours were just shades. But her eyes, they lit up the room. They lit up the fire in my heart. The way they wound look at me, sent shivers down my spine at how much fire was behind them.

But there wasn't a single thing that could prepare me for the way they were so completely colourless now.

My jaw chattered and I tasted salted tears as I rocked her. My hands holding tight onto her, until my knuckles were ghosted.

The bullet she took from her legs was still on the bed beside us.

"How could you." I growled to her, as I rocked her lifeless body in my lap. "How could you!" I screamed, as her fucking eyes just stared up at me. I looked down at her beautiful face, and hated how her roses cheeks were now ghostly.

Not even a day ago she was dancing. You should have seen it. And The way she made me laugh as she stepped on my toes, with her belly pressed against my front. It being too big for us to truly get chest to chest.

And now, she was fucking dead. She was fucking dead and she took ever single fucking piece of me with her. And left me with nothing but the ghost of her.

How could she? She just died.

It was as if I was waiting for her to answer, to tell me just how she could leave me. How she could let herself fall through the cracks, and shatter my sanity with a sword when she left.

Let me fall through the cracks with you. That was our deal. Let our fight be my fight. That's what you fucking said to me.

HOW COULD YOU?!

I wanted so badly to hear her fucking answer. To scold me for raising my voice at her, and listen to how this stress wasn't good for our watermelon sized baby or whatever the fuck it was she'd say.

She was so fucking excited to meet him.

We didn't have a family and I told her I was hers. I promised her we would be one.

I let her down. I killed her. I killed her.

She'd hate me for this.

But she knew all along, I was nothing without her.

And so the way the metal felt on my skin, it wasn't cold, not compared to her. And I swear, as I held her, and the pistol, I heard her voice calling out to me.