A Rock in the River

2- Upon Death's Door

Author's Notes: The art within this chapter is by A-Rae-Of-Sunshine on Tumblr.

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"'See, O LORD, for I am in distress; My spirit is greatly troubled; My heart is overturned within me, For I have been very rebellious. In the street the sword slays; In the house it is like death.'" – Lamentations 1:20

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The hum of death is a beautiful, awful thing, and no place knew it better than Joey Drew Studios. The way it vibrated was like a siren call to the river Styx, its quivering the rigor mortis of a soul much bigger than a single person was meant to contain...-

But of course, it was not one person who died but very, very many.

Sammy tried not to remember this as he prayed to his god that one would remain alive.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

No matter how far away, each drop of the broken pipes felt like it was falling right onto the man's liquid spine. It was as if being of the same body and blood, he could feel the spirits of the puddles crawling inside him with each passing second, with every hollow, quiet crash of ink.

Like he was in the puddles all over again.

Drip.

God...

Lord...

Please don't let her be there.

Drip.

Please don't let her be there.

Not the puddles.

Drip.

His god had finally taken her, and there were only two choices he could see:

That she would ascend to something greater. What was greater...being uncertain. He could only determine it to be unfathomable.

The other choice, the other weight on Francine's scale?

That their time hand in hand was a parable to be lived through- merely a lesson for the straying prophet to take to heart- that the mortality he craved was good indeed, and it was something he was to receive after this.

Very.

Sacrifice.

Indeed, it was possible that her mark as a lamb to the slaughter was not removed with his lord's lingering over her dying body...

...But rather remained to prophesy the beginning of her end.

Sammy felt so sick knowing that he had considered this before, in the times of quiet with her eyes closed and her body at rest. He'd look upon her and in the back of his mind would think:

"He may come. Any second, he may come. And from this hell we will both be set free."

But as they not only passed but cherished time together, Sammy slowly began to see a salvation...with her. Within a world of true, natural light touching his skin and kissing her face until it glinted not like the black which he was carved of but rather with something so familiar yet so far away that he being trapped outside of reality could only feel that what was real was in truth totally, utterly magical.

Her world was real.

And so was she.

And as the light of her candle soul flickered out of his sight more and more with each panicked step, Sammy felt the stab of wondering if he'd ever want to be set free without her...