Degausser

She was surprised she remembered the old clichés at a time like this. A shot in the dark. Life flashing before her eyes.

Curiosity kills the cat.

Not exactly the final chapter she would have written to the story of her life, but then again, she had never been the one writing that story in the first place.

So much blood. A symphony of windblown rain and rending flesh. The kiss of asphalt on her cheek.

No, this wasn't the ending she'd imagined. And the life—the one flashing so brilliantly before her eyes—didn't belong to her. Hadn't been hers to live.

Birds. There were always birds in her mother's garden, and they sang for her. She liked the old songs—the lullaby her mother used to sing her to sleep: go to sleep now, go to sleep now, little birdy…

Spring, a nest in a willow tree outside her bedroom window. A robin with a blood-red breast. Brash blue eggs, like the music she listened to.

Music—she played the violin. Liked the glossy lacquer, the tension in the strings. It was just like her: just like her. Painfully polished, tightly wound, highly strung, in perfect tune.

Summers spent lazing in the pool. Sweet lemonade. A sweeter boy she met at the beach.

And the senior prom: sitting at her vanity, lips half-painted, cheeks dark, delicately stained where wet lashes met pale skin. Mascara butterflies courtesy of the boy with wild hair and wilder eyes.

Biology class: the bleeding heart is the preferred food plant of the caterpillar.

Bleeding heart—bleeding on the asphalt. Blood and gravel sticking to her face, her lips. A blink of her eyes and the edges of the building across the alleyway softened and blurred—bleeding into the background, just like her.

Sounds slowed; echoed. The warm neon lights of the city melted and streaked like glass. A deep breath in, a dark embrace from the warm fluid that filled her lungs. Not like this. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

He was one of the small fries.

The smallest of the small fries—

In the shower, the memories came back. Her memories? Faces of friends, the vast expanse of ocean, a beautiful house on a hill—the moon outside her window cracking in a pane of breaking glass.

The ruins of her home. The feeling of her hair rustling against the dirt where her bed should have been.

"This place is swimming with memories that don't belong to me—"

A life that wasn't hers to live.

And then: the weight of a glock resting in her hand. Eyes burning with the promise of tears and the sight of his back toward her. He turned—

No. Not like this. She couldn't go like this.

The dull hum of the rain falling around her intensified, became deafeningly percussive as the droplets thrummed against the pavement. She tried to count them individually. 1, 2, 3…anything, anything to keep her mind from slipping away with the rain across the dirty road of the alley. Anything to keep her grounded in this moment, away from…

Another breath, and she felt the night close heavily around her.

No. Not now—not like this. She couldn't go back—wouldn't go back. Didn't want her last memory, the last image in her mind to be…

--his face.


A/N: Well. My first one-shot. This was more an experiment than anything else…and it is apparently what happens when I think my writing is crap, and I need a bit of an exercise to sharpen my skills. Let's hope it worked. ;) I could see this developing into more than a one shot (possibly?) but for the moment I think I'll leave it as it is.

So, this ficlet is not only something born of my own insecurities and recent mopey-ness, but was also inspired by Vanilla Sky, quite possibly one of the greatest movies ever made. (Yes, I have seen Abre Los Ojos. No, I didn't like it.) Ahem. For some reason Vanilla Sky reminds me a lot of Cowboy Bebop, and I have been wanting to combine the two for some time now. In spirit, I mean, not in some freaky crossover. Though that WOULD be hilarious…

And if you happen to be wondering what the title is referring to, a degausser is a device that can generate a magnetic field for degaussing (erasing) magnetic storage media, like the magnetic tape used in videocassettes.

So anyway, if you would be kind enough to tell me what you think, dear readers, I would really appreciate it. Praise, criticism, flames—show me what you got!

Nevi