Every night, when I closed my eyes, his image would be branded to the backs of my eyelids. That same smile, so gorgeous yet so deadly. Those deep blue eyes, like the treacherous oceans you find, the ones which sometimes have those desolate lighthous...
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I looked at the orange door restlessly and then at the TV, which remained off. My thoughts constantly flicked to Corina and it hurt me almost physically not to know where she was and what was happening to her. For all I knew, she could have been dying. It felt like my heart was being torn in two as I envisioned her and Xander, in different places, both with their lives on the line. Both innocent people, undeserving of this fate that I'd dragged them into. For me, this situation was different; I'd been through this before, and it almost seemed unsurprising that it was happening again now. I'd succumbed to the fact that it was always going to be this way, I was always going to be running and hiding and running like an ant shadowed by a merciless, determined foot. It had almost become my personality. I'd seen Lazarus murder too many times and whether it was in real life or in my nightmares, he'd always be there. I'd seen him murder and manipulate and laugh and scream and stab and plan and murder and murder --
Shut up, I told myself silently. Shut the fuck up.
"Isn't the TV supposed to be on? Aren't we supposed to be able to see what Xander's doing?" Grace asked, tremors surfacing in her voice. Simon looked at her helplessly, as if he wanted to comfort her but knew he couldn't.
"Maybe Lazarus forgot," I shrugged miserably, my tone dry. I very much doubted that he merely forgot — if he didn't want us to see, he wouldn't let us see. It was as simple as that.
"I can't take this," Simon muttered, pacing up and down the room. I looked up at him fleetingly, then looked back down at my feet. The more time they were here, the less thankful I was of the fact. They were facing the consequences of being my friends and there was nothing I could do. Sure, I loved them and their presence — even though the situation was terrible, the fact that they were here with me made it slightly more bearable — but that was just a selfish thought. If they weren't here, only I would have had to face Lazarus. And beyond the selfish thoughts, I would have preferred that a thousand times more.
I was never one for self-blame. I hated it. But I couldn't help blaming myself for the situation and it made me hate myself.
"Lazarus is a piece of shit."
Hearing that soft voice, my head shot up in surprise. My eyes met Grace's, who was looking at me with thought.
Simon gaped. I gaped.
"Grace, did you just swear?!" I asked in shock. Simon barked out a laugh which was filled with more disbelief than humour.
"Yes, I did." Grace nodded, looking almost guilty, but then she took a deep breath and continued, "Lazarus is a piece of shit. There is no other way to describe him. If he wasn't alive, none of this would be happening."
My jaw was almost on the floor. Grace had sworn twice. Twice.
"That's... true," I struggled out, still looking at Grace with utter disbelief. Simon kept opening and closing his mouth as if he couldn't process the fact that the angel Grace had cursed. I didn't blame him.
