It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fucking fair.
Ian Kabra set with his head in his hands. His amber eyes were shut tight, trying to dodge the pain. The pain was thrown at him with fury, pummeling him from all sides; he could not escape.
It was Natalie again. Every time he tried to picture her, another distinct feature was missing, and he couldn't remember what it was.
Pictures didn't do justice to the girl Natalie had once been. He needed to see her, he needed to touch her skin, smell her lotion, pull her close to him.
His need grew with each day, along with the ache in his chest that was known to him only as the pain monster.
With every heart beat, he was reminding that his heart was still beating, while Natalie's had stopped so long ago, shocked by a cruel machine intended to kill.
It wasn't fair. He wanted to join her, be with her, wherever she had gone.
He remembered with a jolt of pity the names he used to call the Cahills. "Pitiful orphans."
"Stupid Americans."
"Charity Case."
Orphan. The word applied to him too. With Isabel dead, and Vikram up and gone, he was as good as an orphan, if not worse than one, since his father had abandoned him. In his grief he should have been able to turn to Natalie.
But life had been cruel to the boy with the fiery eyes. It had snatched everything he needed-even if he didn't know it-and it had destroyed it, them, the people he cared about, in front of his eyes.
Amy and Dan had each other.
He had no one.
And it wasn't fair.
The bench he was sitting on was cold. The wind was chilly, but Ian didn't care.
The clouds above were a murky gray, the sky a dirty dishwater hue. The sun's light could not penetrate the angry clouds clashing above the busy earth.
But Ian's world was moving too slowly, and it was focusing one thing: his aloneness.
He was often lonely, finding himself saying, "If only Natalie were here."
But it was not to be. Natalie was gone. Isabel was gone. Vikram was as good as gone. And Ian was alone, in a black world of dizzying pain, and terrifying thoughts.
"If only . . ." It was spoken too often.
"I wish . . ." How many times had he caught himself saying those two words?
"Natalie . . ."
"Mummy . . ."
"Father . . ."
The words were bittersweet on his tongue. The precious syllables of Isabel's, Vikram's and Natalie's names only provided comfort for a few seconds before crashing back and reminding Ian of his loss.
It wasn't fair.
He was vaguely aware of the fact that it would be easy for him to go and join Natalie. But there was only one reason he stayed: the girl.
She was always laughing, always smiling, but her smiles showed wisdom beyond her years. Her eyes were full of knowledge and pain.
The latter struck a chord deep inside of Ian, and he wanted to be there for her. He saw her hurt, saw her confusion, saw her utter helplessness as she struggled to lead the most powerful family on earth.
It was her pride. He saw it often, in the way she held herself, how she sent them home even though they begged to stay.
She was afraid of hurting them or killing them because she knew of the pain it would cause those left behind.
She knew they were unafraid of death: they would all meet someone they had lost. Death did not scare them.
She didn't want to cause others pain. She didn't want to cause herself pain.
She had sacrificed herself for them, and they all knew it. But, like the rest, the pain was terrifying.
It ran at them with claws and teeth, biting and scratching, leaving behind deadly wounds worse than the empty hole left by the dead.
Ian didn't want to cause her pain. They all loved each other, even if they refused to admit it.
He didn't want to add to the pain in her jade eyes. He didn't want her to withdraw within herself, as she had done so many times before.
Ian ached to be able to help her, but he knew that in order to help her, he must first help himself.
The sun, sword in hand, cut the last cloud out of the way, and smiled down on Ian. The sun's warm smile seemed to jolt Ian.
He stood up, his back ramrod straight, his hair ruffled, his eyes dull. But there was a spark in them that had not been there before.
If he would not live for himself, he would live for Amy.
It was time for a trip to Attleboro.
So what did you guys think? I was re-reading my first angst, A Thousand Sorrows, and I just felt like I needed to write some more.
Scratch editing! I can just keep write more and add to my editing plate. XD That's me, tho . . . so get used to it.
Don't you guys just get the shivers whenever you think about Amy and Ian, both hurting, both broken, and turning to each other?
Like, seriously! It makes me want to scream, and cry, and I get this fuzzy feeling inside.
Ah, well, that's enough for now.
You know what to do to make me happy, guys.
Review, review, review! It doesn't just make my day. It makes my month. XD
That's it for now, guys. Tttyl!
-Addict