Hello, everyone. Isn't this a quick update? I didn't get that many reviews last chapter. Do you all just hate me or something? Kidding. Anyway, I feel like I've got my groove back! Yay! It's mostly thanks to this MR fiction I read, A Little Place Called Home. It reminded me what I used to love about fanfiction. That means the writing from here on out should be more like the style of The Impossible which you all know and (hopefully) love. It seems like school is the only thing that gets me depressed enough to write like this, lol. Let me know what you think.
I do not own MR.
Chapter 11
God Can Take the Blame
My whole body is consumed in icy fire. Little cuts open in my skin where shards of icy rain slice past me, laughing at my expense. The rocks are still looming ever closer, and I just can't seem to free myself from this fatal storm.
"Sorry, Fang," I think. He doesn't deserve this. Even if he is mad at me, I know what my death will do to him.
And I just got him back, something inside of me cries in despair. Aren't we just an ill fated couple?
I hate myself for this, as if the Flock needs to deal with me dying all over again. I flap my wings powerfully in frustration, but they hardly do any good. In fact, I've lost altitude again. It's all I can do to stay conscious and in flight.
I've given up hope of rescue. All I can do now is pray that Fang isn't stupid enough to follow me into this mess. Prayer, the final effort of the damned. But I'm not praying for myself. I'm not even sure I'm praying. Maybe it's more like wishing, desperately trying to turn my will into fact. I don't know. My head is spinning.
Will this torment ever end? Will I never be free from these crushing winds and waters? Is the only escape death? In holding on am I simply forcing another member of the Flock to risk their life by rescuing me? Am I as selfish as Iggy said?
I do not know the answers to these questions, and I don't have the ability to ponder them. I have a singular focus, to live.
My wings are finally giving out. With each shaking flap I fall lower, buffeted in God knows what direction by the wind. My hair has been butchered by the icy rain, but it still manages to fall into my face, sticking to my skin, catching on my eyelashes, melding with the blood from my small cuts, blinding me further. It's not as if I can see much anyway; everything is gray.
I take deep, steady breaths. It's the only way I know to calm myself. It doesn't really help since breathing through my mouth in this storm is the same as sucking down a river. My hands are fisted tightly. My whole being is focused ahead, but I know it is not enough.
To think that, not so long ago, I welcomed death. Now, I would give anything to have stayed at the campfire under Iggy's damning stare. It would be far better than dying this way. I haven't done anything I'm supposed to do.
Voice! I call to the only being I can think of who might possibly have a chance of saving me. There's no answer. Voice, get off your freaky little butt and help me! I promise I'll work harder on saving the world if you do? I'll make disembodied voices an official species or race or…whatever. Nothing?
A few more minutes of pleading and bossing go by. The Voice doesn't answer. I'm officially alone. When I really dig around in my mind, I can almost feel an empty space where the Voice used to be.
I refuse to cry. I've done far too much giving in lately. I'll just have to find a way to get myself out of this. But that's looking more and more unlikely as my muscles struggle to keep my air born. Come on, wings, don't fail me now.
I can feel my mind wanting to flashback, to relive happier times. I can see my life waiting to flash before my eyes. It's actually a pretty sorry view. Not much of a life, was it? Everything I set out to do fell through. The only thing I've accomplished in my entire "destiny" driven life is saving the Flock from the School.
But then again, I brought them all the way back. I practically gift wrapped them for the scientists to take. These are the thoughts that bring me down inside, but also force me to keep going. Do I really want to allow my life to be one, big, pathetic, failure? I am Maximum Ride, don't I get a say in this?
I'm half-praying again, asking a higher authority for a little justice. I haven't asked for much in my short, bird-kid life, so just this once can said higher power cut me some slack? I sincerely doubt it.
The storm seems immortal. It goes on and on to the very horizon. A giant wave of frigid water sloshes over me. It trickles down my back and legs uncomfortably, burning little trails of numbness into my flesh. Lightning strikes nearby. The heavens are unleashing their rage in one final, torturous, mocking tempest.
Fang. He pops into my head out of nowhere. It gives me strength to keep going, as stupid and corny as that sounds. Fang's just good like that. I can see his eyes glint at me angrily.
"There's no way in hell you're letting this stupid little storm destroy you, Max. Do you hear me?" In my mind I nod. Even though I know this is a delusion, a fantasy, it's comforting.
"You know I'm coming for you, right? You're not going to give up on me now, are you?" My heart literally stops. I feel the fierce need to protect even this dream-Fang. "Max?" I can't form a coherent thought, and this imaginary Fang is getting worried. "Maximum?!"
"Jesus, shut up. You're giving me a headache," I grumble.
"Max?"
"What?! I'm a little busy right now." I choose to answer sharply, so that Imaginary-Fang won't recognize the extent of my exhaustion. My mental Fang regards me with a serious expression.
"You're coming out of this alive, aren't you? Max?" I squeeze my eyes shut to dispel the image, leaving him with no reply. Because the answer is: No, Probably not.
The ground is getting closer and closer, but the storm just seems to be getting stronger. I regret the things I said to the real Fang before I left. I never wanted it to end like this. My thoughts sound like those of someone who's accepted death. I haven't. I'm sure Fang, wherever he is, wouldn't believe that, not after last time.
I promise, I'm not giving up. If I was, you'd know. Remember last time? I wish I could fling the words out to comfort Fang, but what good would that really do? He'd probably just worry more anyway. That's how Fang is. I wish I had the time to give him the goodbye he deserves. Instinctively, I know goodbye will never be enough.
Goodbye. I can't remember what I last said to Angel, Nudge, or Gazzy. I don't want to remember what I last said to Iggy. I'm sure they know how much I love them. I don't want them to hurt anymore. I never intended to leave them again. They need me. I need them.
I'm sorry, babies. Now a single tear falls. It gets lost among the raindrops.
Thinking about the Flock and Fang gave me a sudden burst of strength. Maybe I have a chance. But this storm isn't willing to be merciful. A bolt of lightning strikes in front of me. I miss a beat of my wings, and I don't have the strength to make it up. I'm finally going down, literally. All the "sorry"s in the world can't change the situation. All the regrets won't change a thing.
So, like I said, I'm not praying for me. Maybe I'm not praying for the Flock or the world either. Maybe I'm just hoping for someone else to take the blame.
This is pretty short, but I feel like it's closer to my old style. Tell me what you think, so I know if I've really got my groove back. If I have, I might go back and fix those early chapters that everyone thinks are so boring.
