this is weird. not capitalized on purpose.
I.
monsters live in her. they're the slow burn inside her veins when she catches sight of blood and bruises; when he touches her arm like he owns her, a rusty smile and a 'be a good girl katie,' slithering from his lips.
(she sees the book of matches on the coffee table and touches it with the tips of her fingers, her thumb in a light caress across it. this would make things so very easy.)
she dreams of an explosion. a burst of red and orange against the night sky. the smell of death pollutes the air. he dies. but others die as well. people suffer because of her.
for
her.
(she slides her hand away.)
but the sting of failure still lingers.
II.
kate looks up, shielding her eyes from the glints of sun through the trees. charlie follows suit; she hears a gasp as he does, and a whispered,
"how does something like that happen?"
she recognizes the white t-shirt amidst the blood. her stomach lurches, flip flops. she swallows hard against the rising nausea, but she never takes her eyes off his body sprawled among the tree branches.
the fleeting thought of, 'what if' echoes through her mind.
III.
kate spares a look to sawyer, watching as a glimmer of understanding slowly crosses his face when she catches his gaze. she shoots him a small smile when his eyes widen in warning.
"freckles-"
shouts of no echo as she jumps.
this is something she never regrets.
IV.
this is what she knows to be true: she needs him more than he needs her.
aaron's asleep in his car seat, his head listing to the side, hands clumsily holding onto his stuffed whale. there's a smear of chocolate on his cheek and a small grin on his lips. she doesn't know how her heart could swell with even more love for him, but somehow, in an empty parking lot, it does.
she never claimed to be selfless.
V.
she turns her nose up at the strange man holding out a black dress, slowly backing away with her hands held out in front of her.
kate does what her instincts have always told her to do.
run.