Daylight.
That was the most important thing, and it was everywhere. Grace noticed that the sun felt bright and it was too much.
She was so tired.
She was still sitting on the edge of a very expensive slate stair in the garden. There were expensive flower petals leftover from yesterday, wilting in the expensive grass. They looked sickly and also oddly decorative next to her yellow sneakers with their new red streaks.
This was the garden where she had gotten married.
Yesterday.
Her dress hung in brown rags and her face was splattered with pieces of monsters. She could still taste Alex in her mouth. He was salty and insane.
Her hand was still split by Georgie's gunshot wound. The oozing mess was wrapped in more tattered shreds of that goddam Vera Wang dress that she had loved so much. The dress that had made her gasp when she saw it, and cry when she tried it on. The dress that made her feel like a princess; that had cost more than she made in six months; that represented the new, luxurious, beautiful, life ahead of her. Grace, a vision in white lace. Grace, beloved wife; cherished daughter-in law; delightful, and delighted-in, companion.
Where had that Grace gone?
This* Grace had left bloody prints on the slate next to her. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. Her shoulder hurt. She laughed and it was an ugly bark. She snorted; that felt much better. Triumphant. Fuck them all.
She tried to take another drag on her cigarette but her hand was shaking too much to bring it to her mouth. Grace watched, not really there, as her fingers opened and the burning object fell to the grass.
She'd forgotten that there was a paramedic crouched next to her. They quickly stood to stomp out the embers, then crouched down again.
"Hey, miss. Miss. Can I check you out? How did you get hurt? What happened?"
There were voices shouting, sirens, the sounds of chaos vaguely all around her. It all seemed very faint. She wasn't really there. Only the sun felt real on her filthy cheeks, covered in something dry and tight.
The sun. It had come. It had saved her. It felt nice.
Was she dead? Had she won? Could she just go to sleep now? Alex, can we go on our honeymoon?
No, no more Alex. Alex is a monster. Alex *was* a monster. Alex is dead. Alex tried to kill her and Alex is dead.
Grace's whole body was shaking now.
She tried to turn her head to see who was talking to her but everything was suddenly spinning and she tipped over instead. Apparently someone caught her. And then nothing.