Sympathy for the Devil

40

The anguish stuck like acupuncture in my heart. My heart suddenly turned into a pincushion.

Ash. 

Killian's ash fell like dirt on my green blouse. I coughed him up. Killian enveloped me. Death folded over me like a thickening fog.

There could no longer be a promised immortal forever when his arms turned to ash around me. But he didn't rise anew like a phoenix; he dropped dead. He can no longer exist in this universe nor the next. That's our penance for what we are. Victims. Slaves. Soldiers who can no longer return from war.

Death is never satisfied. This time, it crossed the fucking line. My heart sank into the depths of the growing abyss. It perished. My guts catapulted as I could barely hold it together.

He died a hero's death. Sacrificial and intentional.

I didn't even see his caramel browns when he vanished. His eyes were black. Lifeless. They were wrong. They were no longer Killian's. The boy I loved was a stranger now. He died a stranger to me as his body burst in the middle. There was no blood. No carnage. First, he was here, and then he was gone. Erased from the universe. Erased from an afterlife. He didn't just crumble down dead. He had to leave me in every universe. To ash. To dust. To pulverized morbid glitter that rained down on me. It stained my hair, my cheeks, my body. Killian enveloped me in his death. There were no final words. No goodbyes. There was just the soft whispers of grief flooding my veins once more.

Killian's silver necklace fell into my hand. He never took it off. He didn't have a choice but to leave the Godly device behind. He left everything behind without choice.

"I love you. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it." I cried to the nothingness that was Killian Parrish. The hazy stains on my shirt. But I didn't have time to break. Not anymore.

My I love you count rose to three. Three I love yous, he has never heard.

Once, when he was asleep.

Once before, I killed him.

Once, after he died.

The fighting stilled.

One more casualty was all it took for the white flag to be flown.

I cupped Bennett's cheeks, which were flushed. I moved my frigid hands to his ears and plugged them closed as I relinquished a scream that gripped the Celtic sector of the Underworld. The walls groaned as rocks started to crumble down into a floor that was lava. I wanted it to end. Bury me in the rubble of this fucked up tomb. Bury me in death. Fucking end me. I'm already dead.

"Ellie." My mom approached through the hallway that had turned into a macabre throne of thorns, as if death itself had taken root in every jagged edge.

The air tightened around her.

I recognized her as my mother, but she felt like a stranger to me.

She was wearing a burgundy dress. Her blonde hair was matted down and straightened. There was a definitive silver streak in her hair part. I scooted back until I hit a wall. I was cornered. Trapped. Bleeding and not healing. Trembling. My whole body shook. Anything down here is considered inhuman. Cuts will take longer to heal. Either that or Sally was right; I'm not healing because I no longer want to.

"Don't. Come closer and I'll fucking kill you. I already have blood on my hands. What's one more? You should be dead right now. If you were, he would still be here. Your selfish self-interests are tiring." My voice frayed at the edges like tearing fabric. I realized far too late that blood doesn't mean family. I wasted too long thinking that we bleed the same.