The Everlasting One (An American Horror Story: Coven Fanfiction) [COMPLETED]

Chapter Thirteen: Blessed Bullets

A/N: Thank you for 219 reads!

The Next Day
*Narrator's POV
   Myrtle takes a deep breath as the eleven of them- Stevie, Misty, Cordelia, Patty, three girls from the sister coven, Kyle, Queenie, Zoe and herself- stand in awkward silence in the ancestry room, waiting for someone, anyone of them to say something.
   "Did the girl leave anything behind? Like a shirt? Or a... hat? Or... something sharp?" One of the girls says- a redhead in cat eye glasses, who reminds Myrtle heavily of herself at a young age- breaking the silence.
   "I think she forgot her backpack in my room." Cordelia grasps Myrtle's shoulder, her blind eyes not quite meeting hers yet again. "Would you go get it for me, Myrtle?"
   "Of course, darling." Myrtle gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.
   Her heels clack on the wooden floor she approaches the staircase, mounts it and makes her way down the hall.
   She then enters Cordelia's bedroom, her old eyes scanning the room until they fall on an overstuffed black backpack lounging against the wall. Myrtle grabs it- almost dropping it because of how heavy it is- and lugs the thing back into the ancestry room.
   The red-haired girl takes the bag, her knees on the floor- grunting slightly under its weight- and pours the contents onto the ground.
   "Myrtle, what's in there?" Cordelia asks, fumbling for the older woman's shoulder.
   The whole room gasps at the objects that clatter to the floor.
   Myrtle drops to her knees, taking the black pistol in her hands, begging for it not to be true.
   "No, no, no, no," she mumbles under her breath, pulling the clip out of the handle. What she sees makes her want to throw up. "Oh, my God. Oh, my Balenciaga."
   "What, Myrtle? What is it?" Cordelia asks. She knew that if Myrtle used the 'B' word, she was either annoyed, scared, or being burned at the stake.
   "It's... it's a gun." Myrtle answers, short of breath as she snaps the clip back into place. "Lots of them."
   "Oh, no. Myrtle... don't... say it..."
   But she utters the words anyway, her voice dripping with dread rocking the still, silent walls.
   Two words.
   Two mind-numbing, memory-bringing words.
   "Blessed bullets."

A/N(2): Sorry for this short update! Wanted to give you a little time to think before I bombarded you with Alex's past!