Dead.
No heartbeat, no steady rise and fall of the chest, and warmth being leached away from the flesh of my now late husband, Alfred. It took a moment to process; that I now had lost the only man that had ever loved me.
When the realization finally struck, I was frantic. I sobbed and pulled at my hair, scratched my face and hit him continuously in the chest all while hysterically begging him to come back. Even after my throat ran out of voice to scream with and my eyes ran out of tears to cascade down my face, I stayed by my beloved Alfred's side. I would not move until I was forced to, I had decided that it would be my final act of loyalty toward him.
Eventually I must have fallen asleep, for I began to relive our relationship in my dreams. From the moment I met him, up until his dying words. The words I will have engraved in my mind until my own death, "Marrianna," he said, taking my hand into his own rough ones, "You will move on, and I expect you to. When you do find another man after me, I will not accept you thinking of me, I do not wish to be in the way of your happiness. But," and with this he drew in a painful, ragged breath and continued, "Do not forget me. I love you Marrianna, goodbye." Then his eyes closed, never to open again.
I woke up in a daze, hair mussed and eyes blood-shot like those of a demon. It seems that sometime during the night, one of my two darling daughters had raised the sheets over their poor daddy's face and wrapped me in a blanket.
I wondered dully how my innocent little angels must have reacted to their loving father, the sunshine of our family, lying stone dead upon the same bed they would often snuggle into during thunderstorms. On those nights Alfred would tell them wonderful stories of grand adventures where the hero would rush to save the two princesses that sounded rather like the girls themselves (he let the girls choose what their heroes looked like). My eldest, Sara Belle, could never decide what she wanted her hero to be like; but my youngest, she must have inherited her father's mind because she could describe her prince down to every single last detail. She would go on about his silvery-blonde hair, and his eyes that were neither purple nor blue, but rather a shade of the two that must have been mind-blowingly beautiful to behold. He would also be shy and courteous "as a prince should be." she often stubbornly insisted. When ever she described him I found myself sighing, the odds of her coming across one like this were unfortunately slim.
POV Switch~Elizaveta
That night Sara came in teary eyed. She wouldn't tell me why but I knew it was bad. Sara just held me while attempting not to cry. "Where's Mama and Papa?" I asked quietly.
"Mama and Papa are busy Eliza," She mumbled holding me gently. We laid there for hours, neither of us able to sleep. Sara finally fell asleep, the tears still in her eyes. After she had fallen asleep, a loud rumbling sounded through the house. Next the heavy thumping of the rain came to my ears. Whimpering, I gathered a blanket and wrapped myself in it. Scared, I scurried into Mama and Papa's room.
"Mama? Papa?" I asked weakly. Mama lay on the floor next to Papa. Instead of the normal, calm breathing I would hear whenever I came to find shelter from nightmares I heard broken sobs. Hiccups, and gasps for air. This scared me more than the storm. My mother, the strongest person I knew, was reduced to tears. I slowly left the room after laying my blanket on Mama.
"Eliza, come back to our room," Sara quietly said after finding me sitting in the hallway, not sure where to go. Nodding, I followed her into our room where I asked her to tell me a story. She told me one of a dragon coming and kidnapping a princess. As she continued the story I couldn't help but think of how I would prefer one of Papa's stories. Sara soon finished her story with the prince saving the princess and having them live happy ever after. After a few moments I asked a question that brought tears to her eyes.
"Sara? Why was Mama crying in her room? I got scared and went to see if I could lay with her and Papa but I heard crying." My innocent question stunned her for a moment.
"I think we need to wait till morning to answer that Eli," Sara responded after a second. Although I did not question her judgment I was confused by the response. I soon fell back to sleep unaware of what had happened.
In the morning Sara as still on the verge of tears. She helped me get ready and we headed to the kitchen to cook for the morning. Mama was still not out of the room by the time sister and I were finished with breakfast. Neither was Papa. "Sissy? Why don't I go get Mama and Papa? Breakfast will get cold if we wait any longer." Sara quickly shakes her head to my comment.
"No, we'll just warm it up for her when she gets out of bed. She had a rough night," Sara declares. My young mind barely registers that she says she instead of them for Mama and Papa. I nod and start eating the meal we prepared. The morning went on for some time without them coming from their rooms. Sara explained nothing to me whenever I would ask. My questions were only answered when Mama came out of their room.