Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Can't say any, or else it'll be longer then the actual story.
As he screams, as his nails bite into the skin of my chest and everything about him trembles in the agony- as his eyes glaze over from dull torture, milky and high; as I can practically see those waves of pain clawing through his body, digging up in his veins, twisting the innards- the unbidden urge to say I'm sorry comes through me if only for an instant, because for a moment I am.
But no. I am not sorry. In the beginning She had died because She had refused to be selfish, and I had to watch Her work day by day as she coughed up the juice of her lungs, spat those tiny speckled pieces, those fragments of their decay into her hand. As I watched the life drain from her mouth. No one else will die for that, and if I have to drag him through pain unimaginable and he BEGS me to let him die I will not let go. She coughed up blood and he will suck down mine, leach off of my life if that's what it takes, despise every minute spent breathing but he WILL breath, he WILL stay alive, and I will never be sorry that his heart kept beating. Even if he does scream.
A/N: If you like this, I'm glad. It literally took me about five minutes- writing, editing, rereading, and uploading. That doesn't mean I don't enjoy reviews though...
In fact, three more reviews and I'll have 50. And then of course I'd just have to thank you all by starting to put my chapter fanfiction up. So yeah! Wouldn't that be lovely...