I remember love.
It was in the wrinkles by the corners of Adelina's eyes, at the end. It was in the John Hancock Center, with all of us Garde gathered together, fighting towards a common purpose but also living side by side. Trusting one another. I felt love when we hugged Ella after she shared the contents of her letter; it pulsed all around us like one giant, beating heart.
I felt it with Eight—in the spaces between our fingers when we held hands, in his arm around me, when I looked into those laughing green eyes. I remember—it was warm.
I remember pain. Sometimes I think it's the only thing keeping me alive.
Eight's surprise, the blade through his chest, the blood. His staggered step towards me, like a nail through my heart. My scar, burning and burning and burning, and, through the agony, the fury that rose in me like a tide.
It's still there, you know. I can feel it, this anger, black and coiled within my heart, waiting. I'm afraid of it, this dark mass inside of me that reared its ugly head and made me take Five's eye. Sometimes I'm afraid I would have taken more than that.
But I need it, this hatred, to keep fighting. It gives me purpose. I won't let Eight's death be in vain. I will find every last Mogadorian, I will find Setrakus Ra, make them feel my wrath, my loss—
You see, now, why I need to keep this anger. Because otherwise, there's only pain. There is only Eight and his breath on my lips and his smile and my heart that will never beat without hurting again.
In a way, it's fitting that my Legacy developed when it did. Like maybe my powers knew I could no longer be soft, that the only way for me to cope would be if I locked my feelings away, where they couldn't hurt me. Even the boiling, twisting anger I try to keep frozen, until I need it. It's better, this numbness. I don't ache as much. I will become like ice:
Cold.
Hard.
Deadly.
A/N: Still not over these two, but you can expect some fluffy Marina/Eight from me next because THEY DESERVED MORE HAPPY MOMENTS. *sobs*
