**3 Votes for Chapter 9**
Chapter 8
I awake to a painful stabbing in my heart. And someone standing in the doorway. The soldier.
"Hey," he says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. I sigh. "Hey. Did you find it?" He shakes his head. "No, but I did find this." A pocket watch dangles from his fingers, and I wince in pain. "Um, no. That's not mine." I say, swallowing down a sob. He looks confused. "But it says your name." He comes closer, and shows me the engravings. On the front were blue jays and red poppies in front of a beautiful waterfall. His favorites. The soldier flips it over, and shows me the engraving. "I can't read the rest, but it does say your name." I don't even have to look at the watch to see what it says. "It.. was a gift," I say, a tear rolling down my cheek. I turn my head, and his expression softens. "Oh, okay. Sorry." He leaves awkwardly, shutting the door quietly behind him.
I remember the message written long ago, and I can't stop the tears from falling. It's as if my heart is shattered like a mirror, jagged pieces cutting into my skin, drawing blood. And pain. I close my eyes to stop the throbbing in my head. It doesn't work.
"Just close your eyes!" I say, grinning. Toby squeezes his eyes shut and frowns. "You're not going to chuck me off a cliff, are you?" I laugh, and he smiles. I love that smile; those dimples surrounding his face, the freckles gently sprinkling his face. "Just hold out your hands," I say, and press something into his hands. He opens his eyes and grins. "It's a pocket watch," he says, his eyes sparkling. "With blue jays? And poppies? And a waterfall? Oh, Sky," he hugs me, and I smile against his chest. "Turn it over," I whisper against him, and he reads it aloud.
To my loving husband,
Forever and always.
I love you to the moon and back.
You are my one true love,
And I would be nothing without you.
♡21412♡And now, he's gone.
To all Whovians: Yes, that is the Doctor Who pocket watch when the Doctor turned into a professor. I got the picture from Think Geek. Let the fangirling...COMMENCE!
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Broken
Science FictionThe cold barrel of the gun presses against my forehead. I would imagine it is cold, anyway; it's a whole 11 degrees below my body temperature. Fear constricts my chest, but then I realize something. I grin. "You wouldn't actually, though. Would you...