lovely // a vocaloid fanfiction

chapter 17 // finale

TW: murder, death
——
Flower could barely sleep that night; she was far too apprehensive over the upcoming action that she would be taking with her group of rebels. Every time she found a way to try and put her mind to rest yet another anxious thought would break into her head, initiating the continuous cycle of tossing and turning in bed all over again. It made Flower's head sore; yet another addition to her assortment of sources of distress. Hours passed into the night before the white-haired girl could at last get some shut-eye.

When Flower woke up the next morning, the first thing she noticed was a rusty kitchen knife sitting just in front of her bedroom door. Picking the blade up, she examined it thoroughly, silently wishing she hadn't gotten such an oxidized weapon. Nonetheless, she slipped it into the pocket of her pants, slipping on an extra long shirt to cover up the sliver of the handle that was visible.

Her heart raced as she walked down the hallway to the staircase. The girl's nerves only increased as she began treading her way down the staircase and into the courtyard. Thoughts of failure and possible mishappenings sped through her mind, poisoning her with anxiety.

What if this doesn't work?

What if we're underprepared and die?

What if not everyone follows through?

As much as the pale leader would've liked to have merely shrugged these worries off of her shoulders, the weight that they put on her kept the girl from doing such. These notions compressed and tore away Flower's confidence in her plans at the seams, putting in its place horrible restlessness and dread.

And hence, this shadowy dread followed the white-haired rebel into her shift that morning, while she searched for her friends' hiding spot. She would need to find them-- after all, they likely had twice the amount of confidence that she had, right?

But zero times any number still equals zero.

Yeah, things are definitely not looking too bright right now, Flower's thoughts mused.

By the time the leader of the rebels arrived at the building which housed Daina and Yohio, she was worn out. This didn't come as a huge surprise to the girl, though; staying up all night definitely did not benefit her in any way. However, reaching the place where her friends resided did bring her relief.

Though something was off. A strange, offset aura filled the air of the small building. Flower couldn't precisely place what she surmised was wrong, but she knew something was amiss. It's likely just your anxiety playing tricks on you, Flower concluded.

In spite of her set perspective on the matter, when the white-haired leader approached the small hatch over the storage closet, she froze.

No.

Something is definitely wrong.

Carefully, Flower lifted up the wooden plank, peering inside the hole and down the small, steep staircase.

Nothing.

Her purple eyes widened. She blinked, but certainly enough, the barren setup remained the same. The blankets were strewn across the floor as though they were thrown away quickly, suddenly, and carelessly. The small pillows which had once strewed the floor were now tucked away tightly into one corner. And there was nobody there.

Flower's heart rate picked up pace immediately. They were gone. But where did they go? They seemed to have left so suddenly. Maybe they were about to be caught. But what if they were caught?

The white-haired girl felt a cold sweat begin to overtake her. Her hands rapidly became unsteady and numb. Sure, she herself had never been frightened of death, but death to her friends was a whole other story. Especially when she herself could prevent it. Oh, god no.