It Was Epic (SI-FemDamon)

Someone You Loved

Gilbert Residence

Daniella lay in her bed, consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. Why her? Why now? The ache in her heart seemed unbearable. Then, Lexi's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Hey, Daniella..." Lexi's comforting voice reached her ears, offering a sliver of solace.

"Why does it hurt so bad?" Daniella's voice trembled with raw pain as she poured out her anguish.

Lexi's response was gentle but firm, "Because you don't remember what love feels like. So, in a way, she was your first love."

Daniella's tears flowed freely as she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of her loss. "I just want it to stop..." she confessed, her voice choked with sorrow.

Lexi offered a consoling touch, her presence a source of comfort in the darkness. "I know, I know, but Rose-Marie wouldn't want that," she reassured.

Daniella's mind wandered, thoughts swirling like a tempest within her. "You know, when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out," she mused, recalling Spencer's words. "The instinct to not let any water in is so strong..." her voice trailed off, lost in the depths of her despair.

Lexi listened attentively, her expression filled with empathy as Daniella shared her inner turmoil. "It's called hyper-vigilance," she explained, offering insight into the relentless fear that gripped Daniella's soul.

But Daniella's anguish was unrelenting. "Like you're drowning?" Lexi questioned, seeking to understand the depth of Daniella's pain.

Daniella's nod was barely perceptible, her heart weighed down by the burden of her grief. "I hear the door open, Zach was bringing me a glass of blood. I haven't had any since her death. I knew was worrying them. But I couldn't," she murmured softly, lost in her own thoughts.

Lexi's words struck a chord within Daniella, stirring a torrent of conflicting emotions. "So, if you're drowning... and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment..." Lexi's voice trailed off, her words laden with meaning.

"What if you choose to not open your mouth?" Lexi's question lingered in the air, hanging heavy with implication.

Daniella scoffed bitterly, her pain etched in every line of her face. "To not let the water in," she repeated, her voice laced with resignation.

But Lexi pressed on, her gaze unwavering. "But, if you hold off until that reflex kicks in... You'd have more time, right?" she proposed, her words tinged with hope.

Daniella's response was laden with uncertainty. "Not much time," she conceded, her voice heavy with sorrow. "But more time to fight your way to the surface," Lexi persisted, her tone gentle yet insistent.

The weight of Lexi's words hung heavy in the air as Daniella grappled with the notion of clinging to hope amidst her despair. "More time to be rescued," Lexi added softly, her voice a beacon of light in the darkness.

Daniella's heart ached with the weight of her grief, yet amidst the pain, a glimmer of hope flickered to life. "Yeah... more time to be in agonizing pain," she murmured, her voice filled with resignation.

But Lexi remained undeterred, her gaze unwavering as she offered Daniella a lifeline in the midst of her despair. "If it's about survival... isn't a little agony worth it?" she posed, her words a balm to Daniella's wounded soul.

Yet, Daniella's doubts lingered, her heart heavy with the burden of her grief. "And what if it just gets worse?" she questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "What if it's agony now and then it's just hell later on?"

Lexi's response was gentle but firm, her unwavering gaze a source of strength amidst Daniella's turmoil. "I don't-" she began, but Daniella's anguish cut through her words like a knife.

"No, you don't. You can't. You never killed someone you loved," Daniella's voice rose with emotion, her pain laid bare for all to see.

With a heavy heart, Daniella rose from her bed and made her way to the piano. Each note she played echoed the ache in her soul, a haunting melody of grief and loss. And as the music filled the room, she found solace in the bittersweet embrace of her sorrow.

As the last note faded into silence, Daniella felt a pair of arms envelop her in a comforting embrace. "No, let me go. Please," she protested weakly, her voice choked with tears.

But the arms held her close, offering a lifeline amidst the storm. And as Daniella surrendered to the embrace, she found a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos of her grief.