The Humanoid ~Vash x OC AU~

Chapter 30: Tiptoeing in Sand

Leilani

~3 Weeks Later~

The wind – just like every day before – is hot and dry, rolling down my throat and falling into my lungs. The suns are both strung high, creating waves of heat on the sand. I can practically hear the sizzling of it.

"Are you sure you want to be here?" Meryl asks, turning to me. I can feel her dark eyes burn into the side of my face through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

I stand, reading the name carved into the wooden plank nailed into one of the fallen beams. Belle. It still sends shivers down my spine to read it, and I can't help but feel an ache pull at me.

I nod, "Yeah. You don't have to stay though. You can go wait in the jeep if you want."

It is in the air. The heavy weight of what she wants to say, but I can hear her swallow it.

"Alright. I'll be back in ten minutes to check on you. Okay?"

"Okay." It's a fair enough tradeoff.

She stands and surveys me for several more beats, then turns, her heels digging into the sand as she walks. I remain, standing and staring.

I feel like I've been here so many times already. Over the last three weeks, I've returned several times, being brought either by Meryl and Vash or Roberto. But today, it's just Meryl and me.

My feet start to walk, carrying me as I study the heap. It seems bizarre. I have scanned this mass of debris from top to bottom, side to side, over and over. By this point, I can practically paint it from memory, but I keep coming back. I keep returning.

Maybe it's because things have grown...awkward between Vash and I. Ever since I asked him what'll happen after the baby is born, we have both found it increasingly difficult to... I don't know what's between us right now. It's not animosity, but I wouldn't say it's all sunshine and rainbows either.

I guess we're both confused.

So, I have taken to visiting what was once home. Once. Once upon a time ago, it was. A very long once upon a time ago. It hasn't been home in a long time. All that remains is the shadows of what once was.

But even so, there is something spiritual and awe-inspiring about being here. Every time I return, I feel the same wave of chills falling over me. While the first visit brought shock and upset, the others that followed have brought more clarity and respect. Maybe not remembrance per se, but something.

I walk up, brushing my fingers along a frayed beam. It feels rough and scratchy against my skin. At one time, it was a dark wood. I don't know what kind. I am uneducated when it comes to trees and wood, and so I don't know what it is, but I can tell where the flames had bit it. In those places, the wood is black, the smoke woven into it.

It's as if I can still smell it. The rustic and rich smell of burning wood. It is forever embedded in each beam and scorched into the rocks and sand.

A long, cloudless stretch of azure rolls out above, bright and brilliant. A few flying worms flutter, humming and buzzing as they go. It's just another, unassuming day.

Gently, I feel the baby shift. It's growing bigger and stronger day by day, and I can feel it more and more. I pat my stomach softly, hoping to ease it. It settles, and I smile.

In memory of the Belle family.

I have read those words many times, and have taken in each letter, and each time it feels just as bizarre as the last. To know this is where my entire family met their end. To know this is where each was massacred, slaughtered like cattle. To know this is where they suffocated and burned alive.