NOTE: I found this in my unfinished stories...and figured it'll do brilliantly as a one shot. :-S AnywaysshHope ya all like it and if you do please review as I would like to know what you think because I'm actually amazed i came out with this.
DID HE WHO MADE THE LAMB MAKE THEE
-~o~-
I don't know if I made it through okay. I don't think I did. How could I have? Last night was, after all, with no shadow of a doubt, the worse night of my life. And yes I do, of course I do; I remember every single nanosecond of it with perfect clarity. I always will.
In the distance somewhere a yelping howl sounds, low and screeching, it had come out of me, but I never felt myself making it. It cut into the air, through the air, and now its echo comes right at me, and I can still hear it edging inside the narrow passage of my ear. One yelping howl was followed by another, distant, then near-and, somewhere in it, is Caroline's voice. I can't make out the words but I know it was her talking. 'I'm not going anywhere,' Is what I think she said, her voice husky and trembling. I can't remember ever having been touched, not been touched and held like that, or in any way at all for what seemed like forever, and it made me hurt inside, it felt so sweet to me. I could see she was on the brink of tears and i wanted her to go and i didn't want her to look so worried.
The burning had been incredible; it seemed to flay my skin, scalding the flesh right down to the core of my bones. My body jerked and contorted as if I was a puppet strung up by the devil and dancing to his tune. The pain had been bloodcurdling, more absolute and powerful than anything i have ever imagined. It engulfed me completely. It did not stop. It had me in a constant, never-weak grip, and the torture of it, then, was astonishing. I thought I was splitting into a million parts, dying in fact. I laid there on the floor, pain ripping through my belly, tasting the god awful taste of wolfs-bane in my mouth and wondering when I'd be able to breathe again.n I Listened to the sound of my ribs snapping like tree branches and wished it all over; I even began the countdown. What was happening to me was unthinkable, how could it be possible to feel so much pain and not die?
In the end, somewhere, Caroline's arm around my ribcage tightened and did not let go as she tried help me to my feet, I think I screamed, but at least my bones were more in than out. I pulled myself up stiffly, with my arm slung around her shoulders which felt damp and icy-cold under my skin. My knees crackled as I did that, and a pain flowed from my shoulder blade down my arm-I did, yes I did, make a whining sound and it sounded pathetic, something like a wounded animal. When I tried to walk the movement seemed to hurt my legs as if I've had been sitting for a long time; The muscles spammed and I stumbled. Every inch my battered body wailed with pain, my lungs hurt with each breath too. The whole world rocked up and down, swooping side to side as I hobbled up the steps, leaning on her. I watched the way her boots sounded on the paved rock; It looked like suede and they had mud on them, lots of it too and I was sorry that she ruined her shoes for me.
I closed my eyes and squeezed trying to focus away from the blinding white light, watched the explosion of bright spots behind my eyes and I listened. There it was, the weeping, it sounded like the crackle of leaves a mile away, like the creeping of minute creatures. I dipped my head this way and that, still with my eyes shut tight and listed to the sound of trees crying. When I opened my eyes I looked at the sunlight splintering and re-forming on the ground. I looked at the spiral gashes in the trunks around me and listened to the other noises. The brr-wloop-brrr of a bird in the branches high above my head, a hoe in the soil-scritch-scritch, the ding-ding-ding signalling of a opening car door a slam and then running footsteps going around the truck. Caroline popped the catch on the drives door and opened it with such force that it swung back on its hinges with a grinding noise, instantly after the door was slammed shut and the engine roared into life. The car jerked forward and I felt a tiny cool hand on my forehead.
On the drive I breathed in the icky mildew of the morning, leather and strawberry lotion smell into my lungs a million to one times, and tried not to think about my disturbingly acute sense of smell or the taste of wolfsbane in my mouth, but fortunately the vagueness and weakness it had initially inflicted was easing-up at the point, leaving a bone-aching tiredness behind. I just fastened my eyes ahead of me, slumped sideways so that my forehead made contact with the car window and stayed as still as possible. Most of the sky was covered with dark metallic clouds, drawn low across it like a curtain, making everything look close-up and flat. I could see far away, down the street to where a small pale blue car rattled and squealed with age as it slowed down to make a turn round the corner and disappeared. My breath massed on the cold glass, needles of drizzle hit the other side and dawn coloured in the gaps between the trees.
One of us reached for the other's hand, I can't say for certain which of us it was. We held hands, anyway, fingers laced together, and it laid here, in the lap of my jeans. I straightened out each of her fingers, one by one, and then let them curl back. By this point, I may as well admit it, my emotions were in a bad way. My eyes were watering, my heart thumping and dumping, in the way it does when I am about to cry. As a Lockwood son I had long become used to not having any feelings at all, an here I was about to cry in front of Caroline Forbes again. I look at her, terrified, for what could only have been an instant, though it felt like hours long, willing myself not to.
It was about then that I passed out.