How do we live and love when we know that everything we have will turn into ashes?
Now that Zcyhie Elizabeth Fleuvis is back, someone threatens to inflict everything in her normal, stable life. The tranquility of her old town, Stygian Realm, along F...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Zcyhie Elizabeth's POV
Before I met Andrew, I was fine. But then I met him, knew him, loved him, and he died. I could not go back to the way I was before because he changed me. He made me feel so loved to the point that he filled the void that I longed for my parents. But I am bad because I lack usable tenderness and I do not have a shred of kindness, but I am not a villain and never have been.
I had to do some serious mourning, but it got me nowhere. I was okay during the day... most days, but I'd wake up crying and go to sleep crying. I'd wake up and the pillow was still wet. I'd cry in the shower and I'd mourn after school. I guess, I wasn't okay during the day after all.
Memories that day went flashing through once again. If Blue was already dead, then who killed Andrew?
It was as if my chest tightened and felt heavy as if a big rock had prevented all the air to passed through out of my lungs. The scent of blood and the lavender scent fuses in my nose. As if on cue, all the lights opened and the blood strains were scattered around the area --- on the curtains...on the chairs...in the wall.
Loud noises around the four corners of the hall and the loud crying of my classmates, brought me back to my senses. I took a step back as I almost stumbled in my place.
"Call an ambulance!" Clement shouted from my back. He swiftly ran towards the unconscious body of Andrew. "Move!"
"Asshole, open your eyes!" he shouted. His fingers were trembling as he touched his pulse.
I ran towards Clement despite the three inches heels that I wore. "Andrew, wake up!"
My eyes were starting to rush down to my cheeks while Clement on the other hand, his clothes now full of blood.
"No, Andrew," I mumbled.
"Fuck it!" I gazed at Clement's eyes that were now turning fluffy and red, plastering a sad look in his face.
"He's dead," he whispered.
I kept on searching for his pulse's points. I searched in the wrists, at the sides of his lower jaw, at his temples, on the side of his neck, on this inner bicep, and behind his knee.
As a child, I had an unusual fear of ambulances. I was terrified of the site of an ambulance, as well as hearing the sound of the siren from the ambulance. For me, the loud, prolonged sound justified danger.
It was a signal that someone was ill, harmed or in trouble. I never truly understood the meaning of it not until now. The sound of the patrol cars and the siren of the ambulance hung on the surroundings. I saw the nurses and the aids swiftly went through the right side of the deceased.
"Excuse me," A nurse said.
"Stop it, Zcyhie." I heard Clement, hugging me from my back.
