Title: What Sorrow Craves Acquaintance At My Hand?
Subtitle: The Heart of (Jakuelynn) Mar.
Summary: Son in one hand, gun in the other, Jakuelynn's life is almost perfect but even she is surprised at how far she goes to maintain that balance when disorder comes calling once again. Rating may change; covers many genres.
Rating: T for language/ violence.
Please R&R. As always, it's important. ~ Mika
All I saw was light. Bright light.
Not the light of Light Eco and certainly not the light I'd just witnessed; the light that had knocked me to the sand far, far away from where I was standing just a minute ago; the light that burned everything. A different light filled my vision. Real light.
And him. A merciful sight, given the sorry circumstances I found myself in. He stood over me, gun in hand, eyes creased in sorrow. Not knowing what to do. Not knowing which side to select of the choice I had just given him. Either way it was difficult for one or both of us, depending on the choice he made.
"Please!" I rasped, black now clouding the cold, white light in my eyes. The black joined with the silhouette of the man by my body.
He said something. Tears flowed from his eyes and down his cheeks. All I could think was, this isn't right. He never cries. He never allows himself to cry so publicly. Although, I reasoned with myself, this Precursors-forsaken place could hardly be called "public", the burning hot climate uninhabitable for anybody, no matter how many brain cells they had; no matter how brave they were.
Speaking of burning, my whole body was on fire, no thanks to the light that had sent me here. Pain sliced my veins, and I thought fretfully of my children. My babies. If I didn't survive this, neither would they, but I didn't have a chance.
I thought of him, the other man in my life. Baby, I'm so sorry. Tears slipped down my cheeks, sizzling as they hit the sand. My life leaked out from under me. I'm sorry it stops here.
Meanwhile, the man in front of me raised the gun, the laser beam resting on my forehead. He's made his choice. His finger curled on the trigger like a lover's hand. I knew that finger, calloused from years of sorrow and hardship.
"I love you," he choked.
"I love you t-too." It's getting cold. So cold, despite all the heat, all the pain. He has to end this, and end it now.
He's safe, and that's all that matters.
The man by my side fires, and I see nothing. Feel nothing. Hear nothing.
How did I get here? I wonder.
How indeed.