Hope it strikes a chord with someone out there. Thanks.
I have seen many terrible things.
I've seen babies born without faces. I've seen mistakes that could have been people, could have lived normal lives, die before their fifth birthdays. I've witnessed countless murders for the fate of the human race, and very rarely did I ever cry.
Over the twenty-two years I've been alive, over the years I've been on the run, the bodies have piled up.
But not once did anything break through the hard, inpenatratable shell that is Maximum Ride. Who I am. Who I'm not.
Who's standing in this god-forsaken forest, seeing the most terrible thing of all.
His eyes were still and lifeless. His mouth parted slightly, like he was about to smile, with his head tilted backwards on the grass, like he was looking behind him. This was not the way he looked when he'd lie down and ask me to lie with him, smiling and blowing his black hair away from his brown, equally black eyes.
Fang had been so alive only a minute ago. So alive. I could still hear him telling me, "I love you, Maximum."
This couldn't be happening...
"I won't let it," I whispered to myself, falling down on my knees. I shook my head as my body began shaking, too. This was so unreal. "You can't... FANG!"
I touched his cheek. They were still warm. Maybe... I pulled up his shirt and saw the two bullet holes in his chest. Right over his heart...
Somehow, I managed to scream. I threw myself over him, covering the both of us with my wings, and hugged his lifeless body while whispering, "don't go. Don't ever go," until the words molded together into one haunting, meaningless moan. My tears streamed down my face, tickling where they ran, then onto his skin. They mingled with the blood. A single drop of pink ran down the side of his chest, over his stomach, and onto the ground.
"FANG!" I sobbed for the hundredth time, digging my nails into his shirt. He should be saying something. Calm down, Max. I'm fine. I'm okay, you're just dreaming. Wake up, sweetheart. Wake up...
My nails dug into the palms of my hands, leaving gruesome little half-moons that swelled with blood. I didn't wake up.
I tried. But I just couldn't wake up from this dream.
You can't escape a nightmare.
Sad, but pretty.
Thought someone out there might like to read this, think it was nice even though it ends on a sad note. Maybe I'll write something following this at some point...