Note: Hello darlings, Troublesome_monkey_dono signing in! Oh gosh, I'm literally racing against time right now. My hardest semester is in full swing and and I want this story done! Otherwise I'd be too busy and end up procrastinating more than I should. But, on the chance that the last few chapters come at an increasingly slow pace, I do apologize for that. But you know, education must always come before leisure and pleasure. Especially if you're family depends on you far too much. Haha, but anyway enjoy the story and thank you for reading.

Chapter 4: Delusion

When Lizzy wakes up, they will talk. And he would say he's sorry, and call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. And he will marry her come spring, on her birthday. And they'll be happy. She'll be content, he will be complete. And...and they'll have children. A wonderful lad and a beautiful girl. And they'll be ecstatic. And...and...when he leaves, he will leave knowing that she will find happiness again. And he will be content, watching from the shadows. And...and...he...

And he chokes. He spews on the meager amount of air in his lungs, coughing violently when he feels the salty, bitter bile rise from his throat. It taste of blood and bitterness, of every little mistake he has done to deserve this. He lets out a muffled whimper, covering his face with his hands as his body begins to compensate for the lack of air. He feels his heart beating, far too much to be considered healthy, like a hummingbird in a deathtrap. The high ringing in his ear is much too loud and he can't seem to draw himself away from the sharp tunneling of his vision, sending him circling around the room like a spin wheel. The only thing he sees is his hands, dripping scarlet and too hot, much too hot. Hot...too hot. Stop it. Stop it! Stop it!

"-ung master! Ciel! Listen to my voice, take some deep breaths with me, come now-"

He doesn't notice Sebastian's presence until it's too late. Not until the butler is struggling to keep his hands from tearing his face off. He doesn't feel the pain blossom around his face, around the area where is nail beds drew blood. He doesn't feel anything as Sebastian forces him into a sitting position, pulling his head back until he could properly open his airway. All he knows that he is numb. Numb and hot. And oh, he's alone. So mind numbingly alone. And it's hot. So hot...the blood, it's too hot. Stop it, it burns, stop it, stop it, Stop -

"-aster! Paula, get the medical kit!"

Listless and dazed, he is forced to wait. Wait for what, he isn't sure. And as if god had willed it so, he manages to steal a glance behind Sebastian, straight to the bed that was occupied by his beloved. He expects her to be there, lying still, breathing and content, and healing and fixed, and so very much alive. But, he sees nothing at all. The bed is clean, unoccupied and unnaturally crisp. The fabric of her linens were starched and pressed, pulled tight and decorated as though no person had lain on it. Yet he knew it was a lie because Lizzy, Lizzy was there not so long ago. So where? Where did she go? Where did...

She's dead.

The sharp snark from his own mind bought him to a halt as listless arms stopped struggling against the butler all together. The ringing in his ears is louder now as the torrents of events finally crash through him like a whimsical conundrum. And each time the symphony rises, so does his heart beat until finally, all he feels is the beating of his dying heart. He feels the room swoon, as though it is the one who is swaying to this beast like beat. It's disgusting. It's disturbing. He doesn't understand it.

Sebastian watched as Ciel begins to shake, blue eyes wide and frightened, as he stared straight ahead daring not to blink. And when he does, the screaming starts. He is given a second, a small little second before Ciel crumples into himself and digs his bloodied fingers into his face. He's not even sure why the boy does it, but Sebastian had discovered that the boy had an unnatural habit of throwing the most bizarre tantrums when given the opportunity. And this, this was the biggest one he's ever done.

He's almost tempted to simply smack the boy out cold, only to stop the insipid little display he's been going through for the last hour. He's not quite sure how Ciel manages it really. It's almost a cycle how he behaves, as though he's reliving the moment over and over again. Sighing, he glances back at the empty bed behind him. The body has been taken away in the early morning days before, to be fixed and prepared for the funeral. And for the life of him, Sebastian was not prepared for the mounting despair Ciel had cast upon himself once he watched the body be taken away. It was far too much for him it seemed.

He was almost thankful when timidly, Paula had entered shaking herself. In her hands was the small medical kit, prepared by the doctor in times of trouble. Beckoning her forward, he reached inside to grab the small vial he had placed there previously. He never thought he would have to use it so early on. But as he uncorked the screw, he set one critical eye upon his whimpering young master. Mouth curling ever so slightly, he bit back his own tepid criticisms. Ciel certainly earned this.

"Do you love me?"

More than anything. More than the moon. More than life itself. More than...

"Do you hate me?"

I could never hate you. You irritate me, my dear, because I love you so much. But hate you? I could never...

"Then...Why did you kill me?"

I didn't...

"How could you?!"

Please...I didn't...

"You hate me."

No, please! I don't! I love you! I don't-

"I hate you."

Good. I hate myself too.

"How...how is he?"

"He is getting there."

"Damn bastard deserves it."

"..."

"Edward, silence your mouth!"

"Tch."

"Let me talk to him."

"Yes, of course."

Ciel had always known that Lizzy would be beautiful in a wedding dress. She would be clad in white, pure and chaste, with a bodice decorated with pearls and lace. Her train would fan behind her, smooth and fluid as she would move. Her beautiful blonde hair would be kept away from her pretty face, styled simply and laced with flowers and pearls. It would be a simple wedding dress, as he always imagined, because Lizzy did not need a sophisticated dress to look beautiful as she always seemed to believe. Lizzy has always been a very pretty woman.

And she would smile. Her face would brighten as it always did, lips widening as she beamed her pearly whites. Her lovely green eyes would twinkle, eyes crinkling on the sides to show her mirth. And oh, she would capture his heart once more once she catches his gaze, locking him where he stands. She would look breathtaking... glorious... enigmatic...mesmerizing... enchanting... pretty, like a goddess, as she walks up to him with flower petals softly dropping around her. And Ciel was sure, there wouldn't be a moment he would look back in his miserable life and regret it. He would never forget the moment that would seal his life with hers.

But what is life without irony and regret? Life was a balance of things; Yings and Yangs, Light and Dark, Good and Bad. So what is life without a sprinkle of misery, a dash of sorrow, a pinch of regret, and a tablespoon of bullshit? Personally, Ciel felt like he had gotten more than just a tablespoon of troubles. He felt as if the world had shoved a ladle down his mouth and force fed him their petty distain before he could have a chance to breathe.

Ciel felt himself snort before he could even begin to think again. It's a funny thing breathing. It's instinct really, so purely innate that people don't think about it. From the beginning, most babies take their first breath once they are out of the womb, taking in air as they wail. A wailing baby is a healthy baby right? So then, a silent baby...is a dead baby. At the very least, a weak baby. That hardly seems fair but that is life. Life wasn't fair. Life was never fair. Life was -

"Ciel."

Ciel felt himself flinch once a warm hand gently placed itself on his head. He sat here for hours it seemed, brooding and menacing it scared people away. He didn't mean it of course. But, as the circumstances were, he couldn't bring himself to stand. Slowly, forlornly, he looked up to see his Aunt staring down at him. The past four days have not been kind to Aunt Francis, who had lost all her stern and perfection in one foul swoop. For once, her hair was in disarray, falling out of her bun and spilling across her face and neck. The lackluster fierceness remained in her eyes, it was subdued and forced, only showing when needed. For now, she looked nothing like the strong, independent and strict woman who reared Ciel and Elizabeth as children. She was merely a grieving mother.

"Aunt Francis," Ciel whispered out grasping her hand. It was ice cold, heavy and calloused. Tentatively Ciel folded it between his hands as he stood up. "You should be resting Aunt Francis. I-"

"Do not baby me Ciel Phantomhive! I am not a child!" The Marchioness snapped as a look of fierce annoyance bloomed on her face for a couple of seconds before she slumped back and sighed. She took in the sight of her only nephew, crippled it seemed with his own darkness that he hardly had the energy to care for himself. She knew Lizzy's death had taken a toll on him, it had taken a toll on all of them, but Ciel had never been mentally stable to begin with. She feared for him more than she could admit to anyone.

So she went looking for him a day after Lizzy was buried, only to find him in the worst place he could possibly be. Ciel had chosen, perhaps unwittingly, to cocoon himself in his bed. He sat in a myriad of red silk staring blankly at the bed across from him, a mere few feet away, almost in awe. There were times she catches him opening gaping, wondering how suddenly Elizabeth's bed was empty. When she would interrupt his fortress of solitude, he would merely send her a large-owled stare as if he meant to ask so many questions all that once he was at a loss to choose which to say first. The Marchioness feared that he would be so far gone in his self imposed insanity that he would merely wonder where Lizzy had gone. That it were possible she had woken up and was taking a lovely stroll in the gardens. And well, when can she see him because he's been awful lonely and yearned for her company. All of it, sometimes, was written so plainly on his face it was frightening.

For now it seemed, Ciel's mind was fully intact and he would inquire of the funeral arrangements, how she was coping, and if he could be of any assistance. It was always the same when she would visit, even if it were to merely peek into the room. Francis could not bear to leave to boy alone for more than a few hours at a time, so she took to pacing back and forth from corridor to corridor, barking out orders as efficient as she could get on. But, not once has she coaxed the boy out of the room for any circumstance she deemed life threatening. She didn't think he could bear it so soon. Ciel, in every sense of the word, was broken.

Slowly, she threaded her fingers through his hair, noting that the he relaxed under her touch for a moment. Ciel looked worse than before. If she wasn't so sympathetic she would have dragged his butt into the bathroom and straightened his appearance before he could call upon his beloved butler for help. But, she supposed, it was time they talk first. "How are you Ciel?" she whispered softly as she eased into a spot beside him. One of her long bangs silently slipped its way past her vision and she let out an irritated grunt as she brushed it away.

Ciel considered the question for a moment, choosing to lean back against the pillow that had been placed behind him for support. Tentative eyes looked anywhere but his Aunt's face, until finally he could no longer stand it and glanced next to him. The Marchioness seemed serene almost, choosing to put on a mask of calm and patience, as she silently waited for him to answer. Swallowing thickly, he tried to choose his words wisely. It was always political, their relationship. One full of generous and whimsical rivalry, pride, and perfection. There have been fewer times in his life where Ciel had chosen to speak so openly and honestly to a Dragoness like his Aunt. "I...," he flinched as his voice cracked, "I don't know."

And for a moment, the Marchioness didn't know what to say. She had expected the boy to ease away, covering himself with petty lies just to avoid talking about the situation. But then, here he was, choosing to speak honestly for once in a really long time. Scrutinizing almost, she stared back at him and his defeated state. Ciel had managed to curl even more into himself, arms wrapped around himself securely, as if to shield himself from the possible backlash he was going to receive. It was always like that it seemed. Every time she had tried to pry him to speak, he had reacted out of fear, even if he tried his best to hide it. He fully expected her to finally succumb to that burning desire to point all the blame on him, because he truly believed he was to blame.

But, the Marchioness couldn't do that. She had no heart to point a finger at anyone. No one was to blame for her beloved daughter's death, just as there was no one to blame for the torment that had followed. It would be too simple really, to point at someone with utter distain and push all of the anger, hatred, and despair upon that person until they were destroyed. That would have been so easy. Yet, it was childish and unwarranted. Because, she could never heal. She had watched the boy fall into that same dark crevice, warding off any sort of help, until he was so far gone. When he finally emerged, he was no longer that bright little star they all knew. And no one had been more heartbroken for not helping than her daughter. Her adorable, kind little girl had tried, pitifully tried, to help with all of her broken heart could give. So, she will too. Because, if Lizzy had taught them anything, it was to never give up on those you love.

"It's...difficult you know," she finally said after a long minute. Silently, she took note of how Ciel seemed to tense beside her, jaw clenching and eyes shut tight as if he was ready to be beaten. Finally, feeling tired and worn, she let out a long drawn out sigh as the next few words flew out of her mouth in sniffs. "It's difficult to wake up every day, knowing your child is gone. And for a moment, right after you wake up...you forget. You forget and think it's a normal day. And then...it's not." Drawing to silence, she bit her lip to quench the need to start tearing for a moment before going on.

"...I'm sorry." Jumping slightly, she turned to Ciel who finally opened his eyes to stare back at her. The blue, blue orbs Lizzy loved so dearly were filling with tears and the Marchioness reached over to brush them away. The last time she had seen him cry was almost a decade ago, when Ciel had fallen over and scratched his knees. He looked so vulnerable now, small and child like as he sat there in his self imposed misery. "It was my fault! All of it...I know. I know...I...please, I'm sorry. You...you don't have to forgive me Aunt Francis...you don't...but I...know that I'm sorry...it's-"

The Marchioness raised a hand to signal him to stop talking, taking the time to turn herself to fully face him. It was then when the small flicker of light from the closed curtains caught her face and Ciel could see the aging lines and wrinkles highlight the worried expression on his Aunt's face. "Do you know the hardest part about know that Lizzy is dead?" she asked, voiced clipped and subdued to push away the tightening of her voice.

Ciel opened his mouth to answer, mind trying to find an answer. But how was he supposed to answer that? Everything about losing Lizzy was hard. Losing the one you love has always been hard. How do you answer a question like that to a woman who has given birth to child who has recently died?

"The hardest part," the Marchioness continued on as she lowered her gaze to her lap, "The hardest part is reliving that experience over and over again. Every time you wake up and realize that she's gone...waking up realizing that you still have to act like a mother even if...even if you lost a child. Waking up realizing you're still alive and she isn't." And finally, the mask crumbles and the Marchioness begins to sob. She doesn't mean to break down in front of Ciel, of course not. She meant to help him, but goddamn it, she's lost herself. She's allowed herself to grieve of course, but she hastened the process as best she can because she cannot allow her family to tear apart. Her husband had withdrawn into himself, locking himself in his study and silently mourning. Her dear son had thrown himself into training, slashing and destroying anything he can, until he's tired and numb enough to collapse. And she...well, she made sure everything else was getting on as best they can. There were funeral preparations to plan, relatives to entertain, nobles to whisk away and such. She was kept busy.

Anything to forget. At least for a while. She knows it's not healthy, but what part of her own little twisted personality wasn't? She demanded perfection knowing quite well she could never attain it. But she strives for it, like a cat chasing a mouse, because it's all she knows. It's all she can do to get by. It is through discipline she finds strength, to hold on to herself, protect what she has, and prove that her family is strong and unshakable. But her family is crumbling and she's losing them far too quickly. And finally, she lifts her face from her wet palms and stares at her nephew desperately. She's losing him far too quickly. Just like she lost her dear brother. She feels like she's losing another child and she knows she can't go through that again.

"I'm sorry Ciel," she begins with a trembling voice, "I didn't m-mean to..."

Ciel merely nods, lost and scared, looking more and more like that four year old she watched grow up. It warms her heart in a way. She knows now that this is what Lizzy had strived to see. This is the Ciel that Lizzy had tried her best to uncover from the ashen, dark entity that had arrived after the incident. This was the Ciel that Lizzy had cherished the most.

It was then when Ciel regains his bearings enough to answer back, "No Auntie...it's...this is normal, it's...okay to grieve. It's...healthy even." Hypocrite, his brain almost snarled at him. Because he's grieving and dying all at once. And he's just waiting. Waiting for his heart to finally give out and slow down, until all that is left is the shell that Sebastian will take, mold, and form until it is suitable enough to act on his behalf. When his heart is ill, cold, and wrinkled, it will take its last quivering beat before it will finally, finally work no more. And Sebastian can claim his prize and he will sink into the void that is nothingness. He knows fully well what is in store for him. It is a future of nothingness. A future without sunlight, life, or air. A future without her. That could be no better than any hell he could be thrown into. And he will relish it because he deserves it. He deserves all of it.

He's almost taken aback when the Marchioness finally leans in close, a hand shooting out to caress the side of his face. Her touch is so very warm and Ciel isn't sure what to feel about that. There is a certain air to her, he knows, that is so inherently Lizzy that he could almost pretend that it is her caressing his face so tenderly and lovingly it breaks what is left of his fragmented spirit. Yet, when he thinks the Marchioness couldn't surprise him even more, she speaks. It is soft and unsure for once, laced with such miserable regret and sadness he is left breathless.

"Indeed it is healthy to grieve Ciel, but Elizabeth would have wanted us to move on eventually. To be happy." And finally her soft grip hardens as she places her warm hand on his shoulder, trying to steady his soft swaying as she watched him with those same critical emerald orbs. "That was all she ever wanted for you. To be happy."

Ciel feels the air push out of his lungs far too rapidly as his vision starts to swirl frantically into a mix of pastel colors. Wildly, his hands grab for anything to keep him steady once he feels the sudden grip of gravity pull him sidewards. He is well aware of the Marchioness slowly lowering him into the bed, a soft voice coaching him to breath. He always had trouble breathing it seems. But, he always seemed to make it through. Unlike...unlike...

"Ciel! Stop it! Listen to me! Breathe boy! Ciel!"

Warily, he turns his gaze towards his aunt who was a mere vision of swirling hues of black and gold. Ashen faced and wheezing, Francis was almost sure that Ciel would certainly die this time. And as the dread and panic starts escalating as the seconds pass, she's almost tempted to bolt to the door and call for help. Because, right now, this couldn't be happening again. Not right now. Not when -

She is interrupted by a trembling hand, shooting forward blindly trying to grasp for support. She almost takes it when Ciel practically smacks her away and reaches towards the ceiling half mad and dazed. As the sweat and tears fall from his face, he lets out a garbled yell. "I...I don't know how! Lizzy please! I don't know how!"

Ciel awoke to the sounds of knocking. Alone and disoriented, he could only groan as he pushed himself awake. Flinching, he felt the throbbing of his head intensify with every solid knock on the oak doors, pounding vigorously with every repeat. Licking his lips for a second, he took notice of the dryness of his tongue and lips, a dry rough muscle sweeping over cracked and bruised tissue. He tried to swallow, only to realize that the sharp sting of his throat only bought forth the bitter taste of copper in his mouth. He's been screaming his vocal cords raw in his sleep again, far too much it seemed.

The incessant pounding finally stopped and the door flung open to reveal the Marquis himself. He wore black for the occasion, crisp and clean, topped with a bright blue bow tie. His face, tired and stern, had not moved a muscle as he bounded across the room until he was a mere foot from where Ciel lay. The sharp rapier sheathed in its crafted house was wrapped securely on his waist. Ciel had no doubt in his mind that Alexis would not hesitate to stab him with the sharpened steel without so much as blinking an eye. The tight, stern expression continued on as he stared down at the him, full of silent and repressed anger.

Oh, Ciel knew. He knew that the Marquis was not as forgiving as his wife. And finally, finally, he may get punished. He would be lying if he thought he didn't deserve it. He had expected this sort of backlash. He was ready for it. He was very, obscenely prepared for it. And yet, the Marquis face merely softened as the moments pass and he let out a gruff little smile. It seemed lopsided on the man's face, as though he found no reason to smile of late and the muscles on his face had stiffened from under use. Startled, the boy sat up abruptly and let out a warble of incoherent greetings as he tried his best to look presentable. It was only now did he realize how completely disgusting he must look. How pathetic he must be to his Uncle. How utter low he had fallen. How -

The sharp chuckle froze him from his movements as the Marquis began to pick at his clothes almost amused. "Don't tell me," the low rumble of his voice almost whispered out, "did you really plan of missing the procession?" He tilted his head ever so slightly and Ciel couldn't help but compare it. Lizzy had inherited many uncanny characteristics from both her parents. From her mother, her beauty, genius, and skill and from her father...practically everything in between. Even the small little twinkles and wrinkles around his eyes when he smile were so very much like Lizzy. It was uncanny. It was strange, almost nostalgic now.

"The procession certainly can't start without you." And for the life of him, Ciel could not help but suddenly feel the bout of anger bubble inside of him. He was tired, so winded and weak, and so pathetically miserable he couldn't find the energy to speak anymore. His muscles ached, burned and tore every single time he moved that he found simply sitting or laying in bed was enough to numb the pain. Everything, everything, every single thing hurt. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Goddamn spiritually. Everything was too much for him. And now, he was being coaxed away from his numb reality because of what exactly?

"You must show yourself to the procession of course," his uncle continued on. The same amused expression was plastered so securely on his face as he twiddled with his moustach as though to insult Ciel. He wasn't sure how or why but the irritation grew even more. Why does he keep saying procession? What is this, a wedding march?! Was he suddenly the expecting groom waiting for his beautiful bride!? He was tired of that fantasy now. He was tired of wishing and hoping and waiting but he knew, it will never come true. He knew very well what today is. It was no wedding procession.

And...and he wasn't ready. He could fully admit that, even if it were to himself. He's not ready to let go. He's not ready to accept. He's not ready to see Lizzy, stiff and cold and lifeless. He's not ready to watch her be lowered into the ground, knowing and expecting that this is the final moment. He's not ready for any of that. So he sits and he heaves, trying vainly to even his breathing and doing everything to forget. It is impossible but he must try. He needs to try and gain his bears. He needed time to stop. Even just for a second. Just for a moment. He just needed...he just...

"This is the last time you know?" the Marquis adds softly. His face changes and Ciel could almost see it mirror his own. The Marquis isn't ready for this either. He could never be. Because he believed, so firmly, so religiously that he was to die first. That he would die, in his bed surrounded by his wife and children and maybe grandchildren. And he will be content because his children have grown, made successful families of their own. His wife will stay by his side, fierce, loyal and strong. And he will leave, satisfied and carefree. Except, that isn't what is happened. A nightmare happened.

And he has to face it. He has to accept that his dear, beautiful little girl is gone because that is all he could do now. He has to accept that she has passed before he could. He has to accept it all, even though it is so unfair. It is unfair that she went first. It is unfair that it had to be her. It is unfair that she, who had so much potential to grow, to shine, and to make something of herself simply vanished before she could blossom. And all that hope, those expectations, those wishes he had made when he first laid his eyes on her is nothing but that. But, he has to strengthen his resolve even if he feels his core break into tiny little pieces. Because, when his wife cracks, when his son is defeated, when his family has lost, he must stay strong. Because a Midford is strong, just like Lizzy was strong. And he could only do her justice by following her example. Even if...even if it is impossible.

So he continues on, ignoring his weeping soul, to carry his nephew from his doldrums and push him forward. He has to. He needs to. "This is the last time we will all see her, Ciel. At least, at least say goodbye. She deserves that." And he stares, solid and proud, strong and unbending as the boy curls into a ball and snivels. He's frightfully young, Alexis knows, to face something so large and jarring. He's always been so frightfully young to face anything that the world has thrown at him. But Ciel had endured, battered and shell-like, but still enduring. And he must make sure he keeps enduring, because his family is breaking and he can't have that. Not again.

Carefully, tenderly he coaxed the boy to his feet, whispering slow and practiced nothings as he pulled the lad to the bath. Sebastian is waiting for him inside. He will be there to help you. Remember Ciel, be presentable. Be a gentleman. Show her who Ciel Phatomhive is. Show her that you are still there. Show her, everything you couldn't.

"How dare you show your face!" Edward hissed, teeth baring so much he looked almost feral. His hand held tight on the weapon around his waist, hoping, waiting to strike the boy down. Ciel had emerged from the shadows he thrown himself into, much to Edward's intense displeasure. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the little twit. He wasn't in the mood to entertain his manic little display for attention. He wasn't in the mood to see him at all. Gritting his teeth, emerald eyes glared, hoping that god had enough sense to vaporize the lad where he stood.

Ciel had slowly made his way over, dazed and frightened, a small child in an awkward situation. He walked as though he were to drop dead anytime, acting listless and famished. It disgusted Edward to no end. He acted so supreme, as though he were the only one who had suffered greatly from this. But no, he wasn't. He was just selfish. He a was selfish, illogical, moronic, self obsessed, irresponsible, brutish, miserable little hound. He didn't deserve the care, concern and love this parents showered upon him. He didn't deserve the beautiful, selfless love that Elizabeth had shown him. He was undeserving. He was disgusting.

And now, now he had the audacity to show his stupid little face, after not bothering to help at all. It had been taxing, this whole affair, and Ciel had no guts to get himself involved. It had been hard, so fucking hard, to watch the people he loved suffer so greatly. His parents, bless them, his parents had not taken Lizzy's death well. Hell, no one did. His father withdrew, his mother broke, Paula destroyed herself, the servants sobbed for days, and he...he...he tried. He tried to contain the heartbreak, the pain, the sadness. He tried and tried. God, he tried so hard.

"Oh Edward, you were always such a hot head!" He could hear her voice so clearly, an echo bounding across his mind. She had always taken great care to be honest with him, to point out his faults, his limitations, his defeats because she was sure he could overcome them. That was what she was. An optimist. A very blonde, ditzy, adorable, loving little optimist. An optimist who fell in love with him.

Him. Ciel Phatomhive. The boy who couldn't save her. The boy who left her. The boy who didn't have the heart to show her much she was loved. The boy who made her cry, until the bitter end. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve being here. "Get out!" he cried out venomously. "You're not welcome here! Get the hell out!"

He almost felt vindicated when Ciel flinched, eyes casting down as he stepped back. He kept on biting his lip, nervous and shaking where he stood. It almost felt good when he spied the trickle of tears near the corner of his cousin's eyes. Good, cry. Cry, mourn, grieve. That's all you can do now. Because you weren't good enough to save her. You didn't do anything. You were the cause of all of this. Ciel Phatomhive, you killed her.

He almost feels sickened by the amount of hate that courses through him. It's sickening when he almost drowns in it, making him feel nauseated and so incredibly repulsive. The hate is a foreign element really. It is fueled with anger, sadness, and misery. It is fueled with every single negative emotion Edward can bring forth without losing his sanity in the process. And he's almost apologetic for lashing out at his cousin for it. Almost. He knows, deep down, that it is no one's fault. He knows. And yet...

"I'm sorry," Ciel whispers out. It's soft, withdrawn and pleading. It's pathetic.

Edward sighed, he makes it's too easy really. So finally, Edward quells his anger because Lizzy would have hit him square in the head for simply speaking to her fiancé in such a way. He quells his anger, reminding himself that Lizzy would have been proud of his control. He needs to control himself now, now when she couldn't. He needed to...he needed to...fix things.

"You should be," he growled back, subdued and tight before nodding off to the altar. The church is beautifully decorated, covered in hues of white, pink, and light blues. These were the colors Lizzy would frequently wear, they the colors that always made her smile. The flowers are linked together, spiraling up the large gothic columns, up to rich vaulted archways of the roof. The church is full of light streaming from the colored windows, removing shadows and leaving a sense of warmth and comfort. And in the front, near the alter, lay Lizzy. "Go see her Ciel. You've kept her waiting for too long."

And Ciel stumbles forward, unsure but very much shaken. He takes in his beloved, still and cold, looking almost angelic where she lay. She lay in white and red silk, adorned with soft petals and candles. It's almost majestic and beautiful in a way, if it wasn't so heartbreaking. And...and she's wearing white. Like...like a wedding dress. She's clad in white, so pure and chaste, with a bodice decorated with pearls, lace, and sunlight. It fanned around her like a blooming flower. Her hair, blonde and delicate, kept away from her pretty face, was styled with soft curls adorned with flowers and pearls. He could see the bruises, but only if he bothered to look closely. The extensive work done upon her made her look ethereal. Unreal. Untouchable. Beautiful.

Oh, it's a curse. Ciel knows. This is his last vision of her. This is the memory that he will remember. This is the ceremony that he will cry over. This is...this is all he could get. It is ironic and painful. As he lowers himself to a kneeling position, he cannot help the whimper that escapes his gasping lips. God, gods, someone. If you are out there, tell him why this is happening. Please.

"Oh Lizzy, I'm...I'm sorry."

Note: Okay, okay this chapter is done. My god, you readers have no idea how much I struggled with the concept of killing Lizzy. I admit it, I had a scene all planned where she does wake and and they do talk. And then she dies. Isn't that lovely? (I'm quite the sadist). Anyway, quite a bit of people asked me how exactly Lizzy died since I hardly went into details. Well, logically I think, Lizzy would have died of either starvation (as broth is hardly enough to sustain a fragile health), aspiration (the most likely cause seeing as gag reflexes are usually absent in comatose patients), or sepsis (due to obvious infected wounds). If I prolonged it any longer and she would have woken up, she most likely would have suffered from kidney failure. Yep, I didn't really want to get into that. That's a bit gritty and getting medical sounds pretty morbid enough.

Anyway, as you can tell, I actually tried to deviate a bit from only just Ciel and his confounded thoughts. I don't know. When I read stories where the girl dies and the guy mourns, it's always just that. The guy mourns and people are sad. But I'm always like, Lizzy was part of a strong family unit. I can't simply ignore that. I felt like I had to look at her integral family members (I do feel bad I left Paula out though). Since they didn't fully explore the Midford family I almost had free reigns on how they would react. I didn't want them to just be passive characters because they always seemed to be a complex family. Hopefully, I did some justice.

Well anyway, hopefully I get the last chapter finished soon. It's winding down people. It will take time though. Sorry for that. Junior year college is a bitch (Please excuse the cursing and whining.) Also, excuse the confounded sentence structure, spelling and grammar mistakes. I'm literally running on caffeine and time. Yes, yes, excuses excuses.

So anyway, Troublesome_monkey_dono signing out!