Cherish || A Chase x Sweetie Fanfiction ||

(S3-C24) • Nothing to Lose •

Sweetie's eyelids stung and her wrists were sore, red, almost bleeding from how much she struggled. "No, you can't be dead," she would say, or other alternate beliefs just to convince herself of a lie, the corpse of her best friend still strapped onto the opposite table, making a mess on the floor.

For a moment, a vibration entered the room. Sweetie couldn't understand what was happening. The only thing she knew after a minute was the pain in her knees as they dropped down on the floor hard, but she was numb inside to even react.

"I couldn't make it in time. Her magic forced me away. I'm sorry, sweetheart." Sweetie thought she was going crazy when a voice spoke to her. Then again, how craziness helped her escape her restraints proved that there was something else. Something she could care less about.

Choosing to ignore the voice, Sweetie limped to the other side of the room, raising her paw as she tried to pull herself up the opposite diagonal table, only to fall on her back. She sat up and turned her head to her sides. She walked over to a nearby stepping stool, dragging it back to hop on the tilted platform, climbing onto Chase's stained fur all just to lay down beside him on the cleaner side. She reluctantly grazed a paw on his cheek, more tears beginning to leave her eyes.

"You really are gone, aren't you?" she said. The pads of her paw travelled from Chase's face around his still penetrated chest and to his paw. She held him, close and tight, embracing the remaining warmth left as she cried. Cried in a tone that could break anybody's heart, for there is little that could compare to the loss of someone close to you. Much more, someone you truly loved. "And I couldn't even tell him how much he meant to me."

Sweetie's dark world lost its only remaining light, for it was not her owner nor Busby that gave her life. It was the hope she had everyday to see Chase again, and now, it was but a fictional idea in her present.

Wiping away the wetness on her face, she lowered himself and got off the table, heading towards the only entrance and exit in the room.

"Where are you going, Sweetie?" The walls were talking to her again. This time, she decided to entertain them.

"To get my revenge."

Sweetie noticed an armoured man on the floor. The knight was knocked unconscious due to some previous conflict. What took her eye, however, was the short blade that fell to the man's side. Before she even realized, she was walking away with the weapon in her paw, unable to muster the slightest amount of pity to those who had done her and her beloved harm.

"Taking one's life does not serve justice, nor will it be excluded as immoral. There are ways we can stop them but this isn't the one."

Sweetie kept walking with dry eyes, leading down to the lower floors. "I do not live for properness, nor royalty, nor justice. All I want is this blade deep inside their chests, just as they did to Chase."

Speaking of the devil, after a while, Sweetie found the blur of dark brown. The Pomeranian was sitting just at the entrance of the castle, undisturbed by the thrashed bodies of guards around, especially the ground floor. Beatrice's ear twitched, and immediately, her head lowered, although she never turned to look behind her.

"I couldn't stand beside her anymore. If I did, I would've been executed for arguing with her and everything she was 'doing for the world'," Beatrice reenacted the words of the mastermind.

Sweetie never paid thought though, her blade was raised to her side.

"I know death is a fate I won't be escaping, though. I'm prepared for the worse. I'm just happy it would be by your paws instead of someone I never truly served."

Sweetie stopped just behind the pup, lowering the blade down to her neck. The fine sharpness sliced her fur with ease, the small bundle of hair gliding down onto Beatrice's shoulder. The weapon was mere millimeters away from her skin.