Take Me Instead

Kill the Messenger pt. 1

A/N: Disturbing scenes to follow that include grief. Please be warned and advised if you choose to proceed.

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When Jamie peeled my body off the front lawn, he left my brain behind, in pieces. When Gator tried to help me up from the couch and into my bedroom, the tears that plagued my eyes stopped flowing. Even when I heard Kayce's voice cracking downstairs, my heart just didn't have anything left in it anymore.

Lee is gone.

I couldn't sleep. It didn't matter how long I lay in my bed. The sun crept across my room from across the floor up the wall, till it faded into golden orange and dissolved as the darkness consumed it.

No one came to check on me – not that I wanted to see any of them anyway. I heard footsteps all over the house, but not one pair made their way up the stairs to my door.

When the lights turned on outside they poured in through my window, providing the only source of light in the darkroom. I didn't know what time or day of the week it was anymore and I didn't care. Other than the occasional blink and the steady cycles of my organs, I remained completely motionless.

Tiny, quiet thoughts drifted to Lee. Where was he right now? What were they doing to him? What did Kayce do, or not do, that lead to Lee's death?

My eyes stung as they tried to cry again but just couldn't muster up the ability to. The way my throat clenched stung and ached deep in my chest.

You can't think about that, I scolded myself. You can't think because you will feel, and if you feel you will hurt.

Steady, clunking footsteps broke through my subconscious as they neared my door. Boots. Probably a man. There was a slight pause before my door creaked open. The hallway light flooded my walls and I heard the soles against the wood floor as the visitor entered. I closed my eyes, praying they would leave.

But they didn't. Instead, the footsteps made their way to my bedside behind me, his shadow looming over me. I heard his position shift as he took a ragged breath, the smell of denim and bourbon washing over me. Daddy sighed heavily as he brushed some of my hair from my face with his calloused fingers. I chewed my tongue as my throat clenched again.

He didn't stay long. After he shoved his hands into his pockets he, as quietly as one could with riding boots on, carefully strode out of my room and shut the door behind him with a faint creak.

I choked, gasping for air as tears force their way across my eyes, grinding painfully like sandpaper against my raw eyelids.

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No doubt the funeral would be as soon as possible. Daddy would have him buried close to Momma, out in the birch trees. But as soon as I pictured his body being boxed up and lowered into the ground, my body hunched into another round of sobs.

I didn't sleep that entire night. Instead, my sore eyes fixated on my window while I pushed away any reflections of memories with him and thoughts of the future without him. I fixated on noises within the house to keep me distracted. Fewer and fewer footsteps clattered against the floor as the night hours dragged on. Somewhere by the barns, an owl hooted as it sought after a mouse or two. The crackling of the lit fire in the living room trickled up the stairs. Surely, Daddy was down there leaning his arm against the mantle with a glass in his hand as he stared into the blazes. Did he see Lee in the flames?