There was a sound like a hornet slamming itself against a lightbulb, and the world went dark.
Later I found out that that was the sound of the electric current escaping its bounds, coursing its way through my mother's body and stopping her pulse. I didn't know that then. I didn't really know much of anything then, except that there was no light and I might as well be alone and I was panicking.
The breath that sucked its way through the teeth that were clamped shut around my tongue was heavy, tasted like gunpowder, like fear, like two-seconds-after-the-sound-of-the-thunder. Where my mother's heart was extinguished, mine was beating triple time, and I could feel my blood in my fingertips.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe.
That was the first time I was truly afraid – not for my life, not for my safety, not for the safety of the ones I love, but just afraid. I didn't know what was happening, I had nowhere to go, and I couldn't breathe.
I screamed when he touched me, fingertips against cheek, and I bit my tongue when my jaw swung shut. My legs and my fists went out to him, my nails digging into his flesh, and I made him hurt. I made sure I made him hurt.
And I could breathe again. The light was still gone, but I was scrambling up and kicking away his limbs from mine, and I was reaching for the door, hands twisting out for anything, anything, and then he spoke.
"Stop," he told me. "It's okay."
I didn't believe him. But I stopped.
His name was Sev. He was my age.
I'd broken his toes and cut gouges into his chest. I didn't feel sorry about it. I never apologized.
After that, we got close. We watched the sun rise together, cleared away my mother's corpse, collected firewood together and burned her when we had enough. It was evening by then. As the sun set, we fucked like we were possessed, and then we collapsed. We were starving.
We made food together when we had the strength, through a haze of dizzy. His was burnt and mine was raw, but we ate like we hadn't eaten in days. He told me he hadn't, when we were done. I believed him.
Since then, we've never spent a night apart. We've grown into each other, and we've grown a lot. I trust him more than anything, and he trusts me in kind. The world is ours to wander, and we've gotten ourselves pretty good reputations.
I don't think I've ever been as scared as that first time I met him until now, but trust me, I am terrified. I think we might be dead, or as good as.
I told him that the Sorrows Contract was a bad idea. I told him.
I can't breathe.
A/N: I think this might be one of the best things I've written in a while.
~Mademise Morte, June 24, 2012.