15.We're The lonely Ones

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  Lucien 

Have you ever wondered what might be occurring the moment you die? Does anyone treasure every day, every second of taking precious air within their lungs? What do other people remember as they perish? For me, it was the woman standing not two feet from me right now. Savannah's heart I took for granted over and over again, just the exact same shitty repetitive act I never laid claim on anybody but her. I broke my love's heart but she paid the consequences. Because I killed myself, she lost her memories. That's the reason I'm in hell. "Lucien, are you paying attention? This is important!" Savannah also has this way about her that makes me feel as if I have the tendency to become too absorbed in my own problems. God, am I whipped or what?

Patricia's blond hair is matted to her face like she got brutally abused by a rag doll and the doll won. Her once-beautiful emerald dress appears as if it was dragged through mud and dirt so extensively the thing barely fit. "Damn, Trisha, what happened to you?! You look like-"

"Lucien!" Savannah scolds, presenting me with that stare like she's drilling holes into my skull, which I named: "the eye" back when we were...us. "What? Oh, come on, you know she looks absolutely dreadful, pretty!" I rationalize. Running over by my side, Savannah slaps me hard across the left cheek, so impactful I slowly step back, stunned. "Bitch," I whispered, half pissed but glad that she has the heart of a warrior still. "Asshole," mumbled Savannah. If scowls could win prizes or awards, Patricia would be rolling in gold. "Are you two kids quite done? This is a matter of life and death here, people! Please, for the love of God, stop behaving like five-year-old children," she pleads, worry lines edged into her face. "Hatchlings along with demons have banded together and they're arriving sooner rather than later. So, I'd advise that the both of you high-tail it out of here now! Lucien will care for your security, baby." She kissed Savannah's forehead, practically forcing her daughter out the door as Patricia closes it behind her, but not before saying: "You're stronger than you know, don't forget that fact. I love you with all my heart." The door shuts a fraction and then one final bang followed.

I hope we see her again.

* * *

Constructing portals are as easy as finger flicking. We landed at our destination quicker than I would've anticipated, which gives us time to build trust before I part with Savannah on the account that this persistent idiot wants his body back, lovely. Currently sitting on a rooftop near 303 Oak Street inside an illusion of New York City made by yours truly, imaginary people are bustling around. "Do you suppose Michael's resilience is enough to keep him alive, Savannah? I mean, I've kind of left him in the dust, you know?" I asked, raking a hand through Jakob's blond hair. "I'm sure he's fine, Lucien. Michael can handle himself, I promise." She only says these words to show kindness but they made my tettering temper flare. "Don't promise that! You have no idea what could happen: he might possibly be dead or worse!" I scream, not intentionally meaning to scare her, but I did anyway. "When my mother abandoned me on someone's doorstep in the middle of New Orleans as a child, I couldn't understand why. I acted out, did everything in my power to avoid the family mom stuck me with.

Eventually, Rosemary Grey adopted another son named Michael, a fun happy-go-lucky guy who, by some miracle, got my moody butt to open up about the wrecked past I tried so hard to forget.  Now, brace yourself because this story does not  have a happy ever after.   Years after Micheal and I met, he got plowed down by a car on Burbon street.  And that, my dear Savannah, is the reason I'm so over-protective of those I care about." I relay this information with a clipped tone so she doesn't catch the whirling storm of emotions thrumming within me like a heartbeat.

 Savannah always did contain a flare for dramatic moments, I know that: however, what happened next shocked me speechless.  She hugged her body against mine as if sheltering my breakable heart from shadows.  "What are you doing, pretty?" I asked while battling plain surprise and confusion for dominance.  "Trying to drive away the loneliness I know you must've felt and probably still feel, because let's face it: we're the lonely ones, Lucien.  Misery loves company, right?"

Don't ask when, but somewhere in blackness, I found hope.  My pretty girl gave me hope.  

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