The Iron Maiden (A Post-Endgame Story)

Prelude

"Sometimes the worst goodbyes are the ones we never get to say."
~Morgan Stark

~~~~~

~Prelude~

Morgan allowed her eyes to close, the lids resting gently upon her chocolate orbs as she lay silently on the grass, feeling the weeds crumple between her fists. The night air swarmed calmly around her, engulfing her in a sense of calm, tranquil silence that allowed her mind to be at ease for once in a long while. 

When her eyes were open, the glittering stars above shone down upon her delicate features, illuminating the soft expressions of her face and lifting her spirit to the sky. When they were closed however, they unlocked dangerous doors that left her chasing down their darkened hallways, trapped in her own mind as she effortlessly tried in vain to find her way out. Her brain was a complicated thing, caught somewhere between heaven and hell in a place where no child's mind should be. Her spirit was torn between the last smile she'd seen draw across her father's face and the heavy weight of sadness that now resided in her heart. 

Youth daunted the little girl, and she felt too weak to openly express what she was feeling; too frail to enunciate the words that echoed within her head for days on end. Her mother was worried, but for once Morgan didn't have the heart to speak up, to reassure her that she was okay.

Because really, why lie?

The soft sound of the crickets chirping rattled inside her ears, as a cool breeze blew sluggishly through the air, taking its time in combing through Morgan's knotted brown locks. Goosebumps stretched across the length of her arms and legs, tickling her olive skin like a feather. 

The sudden chill caused her eyes to peel open, unveiling the starry sky that shone bright with never-ending fury, the crescent moon painted in as if to compliment the tiny balls of fire.

"It's beautiful out here," Peter remarked from beside her, tugging his hands through his identical brown hair.

Morgan offered a small smile, an expression that had recently felt unfamiliar. "My daddy used to tell me that when someone went to heaven, they became a shining star in the sky, and that that was where they lived forever," the girl whispered, voice barely audible.

When her friend gave no response, she decided to continue, her words moving freely on their own, pouring directly from what was left of her shattered heart. "And every night before I go to sleep, I look up at the sky so that I can see daddy too, and it's kind of like he's tucking me in for bed."

 Peter remained silent, so Morgan tilted her head to the side, capturing sight of his silhouette that was just barely kissed by the light in the night sky. She studied him for a moment - his hands tucked behind his head, as he eyed the sky with no visible expression; the way his lips appeared to be pressed thinly into a straight line, his dark eyes virtually invisible in the darkness. 

Morgan, at first, had been confused at the lack in Peter's emotion - the way he shut down at all mentions of Morgan's dad and the way he shuffled his feet when he walked, his shoulders hunched over and a frown stretched across his face. Yet, over the last few weeks she had begun to realize that she probably walked that way too; that her smile had been contorted into a frown much like his own and that her shoulders could seldom carry her upright - the same problems he faced had slowly become her own. Soon enough - their mourning became a sense of understanding - a revelation of shared feelings that had caused the two to grow closer, both feeling a similar sense of grief in a time of great loss.