Aftermath
Plot Synopsis: The aftermath of the civil war. Set in Chicago, historical fiction. :3
He surveys the dead, the wounded, and it's all he can do to not cry. So many innocent people dead. He wanted to hear that soft, calming voice. To cry into his sister's shoulder. But he had sent her away.
"I...It's over," his little sister breathed out. Her eyes, normally so hard, swimming with tears.
"It's a good thing," he manages to say.
"H-how can you...say that? With this many dead!" she asked, falling to her knees next to a man, dead, aged about sixteen.
"I know, but now at least no one else will be killed."
"Not for a little wh-while at least..." her voice broke as she slid the soldier's eyes shut. "I-I'm s-sorry."
"You knew him, didn't you?"
"P-per-haps..." she said, her tears giving assent.
"Who was he, Katherine?"
"N-no o-one," she said, standing up. "No one y-you'll care for." In that moment, he felt a shift. From sadness to hostility.
"Kat..." he gently laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted, jerking away from his touch. "You don't care for any of these people! You don't feel their loss!" she bit her lip, determinedly looking away from the dead.
He wanted to say something, to sooth her, but another voice rang out.
"Alfie? Petite frère?"
"Just go to her and forget about us, Alfie," Katherine said, her voice filled with venom and accusations. "Good bye..." she added, as she began to walk through the rows of dead and wounded.
Alfred wanted to follow her, but something caused him to run to Mona.
"Mona!" he called as soon as he saw her.
"Just run from reality...from your problems..." Katherine said, watching them out of the corner of her eyes. A wounded soldier tugged at her jacket. "H-huh?"
"H-help me. Pl-please..." he begged.
"Sh..." she gently smoothed his hair back, soothing him. He was in Death's grip. "Y-you'll be ok..." she said, blinking away tears.
He nodded, then asked her a one word question. "S-sing?"
"S...sing?" she nodded, singing a soft lullaby. His eyes shut as she finished. She didn't notice Mona walk over.
"Katherine?" the French girl asked.
"Good night," she whispered to the soldier. She stood, looking at Mona over her shoulder. "What? I thought you people didn't like getting dirty?"
"That's Amelie. I can help if there's any injured. You can trust me."
"No. They're all dying. All I can do is... e-ease their s-suffering," she said, tears building again. She hated being useless.
"What's wrong?" Mona asked gently.
"Go to hell," Katherine replied, wiping blood away from a wound on her arm.
"What's your problem?"
"My problem? My problem is that he could care less about these people. He, instead, runs to you, like you're some savoir. My problem is that my people are dead and I felt each one of them leave!" she pulled off her jacket, lying it on the snowy ground and sitting on it. "My problem is that I couldn't die with them."
"I know what it feels like. But at least you didn't lose a brother. A part of yourself."
"No. I've just lost people I knew, people I likes," she bit her lip hard, to the point of bleeding, to stop the tears from overflowing. "Just go away, pretty girl. Nothing here for you to see." Mona winced at the 'pretty girl' comment. That was what Alfred called her.
"A pretty girl," Mona said, her tone cold, "couldn't use a sword or a knife. A pretty girl couldn't kill you with her bare hands."
A revolver's hammer clicked back. "Don't piss me off. I'm tired and upset..." Katherine sighed, tossing the revolver away. "Forget it. Kill me. I don't care. No one would care."
"It takes a lot to kill one of us. I don't have the time." With that Mona walked away, hurrying back before Alfred could break more.
"Just go away, both of you... Let the dead lie..." Katherine sighed again, going through the rows of the dead and shutting their eyes.
"He's in his room," Austin said quietly as soon as Mona got there. She nodded and walked in.
"Alfie...?"
"What was she doing, Mona? With the dead? Why was she yelling at you?"
"She's upset with you. For leaving her alone to deal with the losses and running to me. She's mad because she can't do anything for them."
"But...why was she closing their eyes?"
"The eyes of the dead are...haunting."
"That's all? I...I shouldn't have left her..."
"Why did you, then?"
"I was just...so happy...to see you. Should I go after her?"
"She needs to calm down a bit first," she said, seeing the tears build in his eyes.
"No. I've left her too many times," he sighed, picking up a jacket. "I'll see you." He left before she could say anything. Mona merely sighed.
Alfred found Katherine without too much trouble. She was sitting by a wounded soldier, talking with him.
"Your wife will be proud... And so will your son. You're a very brave man..." she said, her blonde hair spilling from her the tight bun she had it in.
He nodded, shocked that a woman was in the war and comforting him.
"I know... I really shouldn't even be in the war. I'm just here for some comfort..." He nodded once more, his eyes sliding shut and his breathing ceasing.
"Katherine?"
She didn't respond. She merely wiped away a thin stream of blood from the man's nose.
"Kat?"
"What?" she asked, wiping blood from her arm and standing, moving through the dead.
"What's wrong?"
"Why do you suddenly care? Did the pretty girl run out on you? Or did you feel bad for me?"
"She didn't run out on me. I came to find you."
"So you felt bad for me," she said flatly, as another soldier, this one a girl with her hair cut short, tugged on her pants leg.
"A-am I g-going to hell, m-miss?" she asked, her eyes glazed with pain.
"Oh... N-no. You've been very brave... God will receive you with open arms."
The girl smiled, letting her hand drop down to the ground. "Thank you, miss..."
"Of...Of course, little one," Katherine replied, her heart breaking a little more.
"Kat..." Alfred said, following her to a small spot of calm.
"What? Can't you see I'm busy?" she asked, her voice hostile and icy.
"Kat, what...what's wrong?"
"None of your concern, monsieur. Just go back to mademoiselle pretty girl," she said, her French perfect, the accent mocking. She walked away and disappeared into the snow flurry before he could answer.
"Katherine!" he called, running after her.
She had vanished into the snow, like a phantom. He followed the footprints, but they too vanished.
"It's cold..." Katherine mumbled to herself, wrapping her bloody jacket tighter around her. It did nothing to dampen the chill, rather it made it ten times worse. She didn't shiver, didn't betray the chill she felt. The one she felt within combated the one felt from outside, and won, keeping her more empty than cold.
She made her way to a frozen river, sitting down, the snow dusting her hair and shoulders as she discarded her jacket. "White... Everything's white..." she whispered, "Even the blood will be white..." She shivered, then slipped, falling onto the snowy bank of the frozen river, her tears finally flowing, freezing on her face.
That day she learned many things.
Hate.
Betrayal.
Abandonment.
And most importantly, being uncared for.
Being discarded.
Being forgotten.
"Alone to freeze... They'll find me next summer... Or maybe not. Maybe the wolves will have their way..." she shivered again, letting the snow cover her.
Alone.
Alone.
Isolated.
Solitary.
Alone.
That day she learned many feelings.
Hurt.
Anger.
Depression.
Loneliness.
Forgotten.
Dashed hopes.
Like a man alone on an island spotting a sail, only to have it pass by as if one doesn't exist.
Worthless.
That was the day she discovered Lilith.
Lilith. A succubus. She gave Chicago many things.
Control.
Power.
Beauty.
Magic.
Strength.
When she came out from the forest, her hair was silver-blonde, shimmering, almost alive, her eyes an inky indigo.
She carried herself with strength, something unheard of in women in that time.
That was the day she realized something.
He was never going to care.
So she may as well make the most of it.
That was the day she learned to hate.
In the aftermath of the war.