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THE FIRST THING you remember when you open your eyes was death.
It was nothing at first, but then the realisation crashed into your skull and you - you remember screaming, so, so loud that it could've shattered the windows but it's —
Nothing. The screamer is you, and you're alive somehow. The air fills your lungs, steady, clearly, and you want to pause your crying just so you can relish in the fact fuck! you're alive! You didn't die! It doesn't matter everything around you is blurred and that you can't understand shit, because you're alive goddamnit, and that fact alone is enough to make you feel the most content you've ever felt in years since you first got your own piano.
Alas, it's also scary. How are you even alive? You died. Clearly. You remember it perfectly, and you're well aware that there was no way you could've survived. It was made sure of — you made sure of it.
( "It's a shame you couldn't -" )
No. It doesn't matter anymore. You - you're alive. They failed. No one - no one can get to you anymore.
You are alive.
By the time when you realise why everything feels so distant and foggy, you come across three fundamental facts, and neither of them are as important as the first fact.
( You're a baby again, people who hold you in a warmth far away call you little Lily Evans, affectionate, and you're exactly twenty two years old stuck in a four year old's body. )
Ah. What the hell?
·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛ ⦃ 𝄢 ⦄₊·꒰ ↺ ↺ ༘·˚
🌻🌾( ˘͈ᵕ˘͈⍣ ೋ ) — — — — — — AUTHOR'S NOTE : 𝄢𝄞 woo we startin' boys. kinda short but well. it's a start? hahaha. — — — — — — by soda.
