Eli: I live. Took all the will I owned to get this out. Please review cause
it will help the writing block I'm just now getting out of.
Enjoy.(Actually, that's not really appropriate, but you'll see that.)
"Hello?"
"Ian. Where is she? Are you close by?"
"She is in her loft. I am close by."
"Her lover is dead. It will soon leave her wrist. Retrieve it, Ian. Retrieve it or forfeit your life."
"Yes, sir." ~
Sara sat on her bed, alone. She was oblivious to the phone ringing, the lights on, and her portector watching her every room.
She was empty, lost. She had had a chance to rekindle something eternal, and now it was gone.
Forever.
The witchblade gave her no time to grieve. It bombarded her with visions from the first life time, the forgotten life time. How they met, made love, and how he died. All in a matter of two weeks. It was so painful to watch. She couldn't get the images out. She got off her bed and stumbled into her bathroom. She washed her face and tried in vain to keep her eyes open. She gazed into the glass.
Her eyes had dark circles around them. Her cheeks wet from tears. The windows of her soul showed pain, misery, and weakness.
She was now vulnerable.
The witchblade quietly stopped glowing and dropped off from her wrist. She only heard it clank as it hit the ground. Her mind said to pick it up, but it took her body two minutes to respond. She reached down for it when she noticed the pocket knife she kept on the shelf. All rooms in her house had weapons, bathroom no exception.
The witchblade was forgotten. She picked the pocketknife up and stared at it for the longest time. It was so small. Something this small could end it all. Make the pain go away. That's all she wanted all the pain since her father's death to go away. Over 15 years of heartache could finally be forgotten. If only she had enough stregnth.
Did she have the stregnth? The witchblade sent her one final words. Gabriel's voice could be heard as comic panels flashed behind her eyes.
"Wouldn't you rather see me freefalling amongst the stars, then chained down to a lide which would only further my disdain, or even worst, my apathy?"
She thought on it a while. Wasn't it better to have peace? To have eternal sleep? Who left on this earth loved her, cared for her? Her mind was set. She flipped the pocketknife out.
Cut, cut, cut. The blood flowed so quickly. All over the floor, her clothes, the sink. Her blood, which had the trace of immortality within it spilled so freely. Her mind went from the darkness. She could see lights.
Sara had been in the bathroom for too long. Ian tried not to grow worried. He waited impatiently for her to come out. Finally, he succumbed to his paranoia and entered the apartment. He knocked on the door before entering the bathroom. His heart froze when he heard no reply. He quietly opened the door. His eyes grew wide with horror.
"Sara." That was all he could say. In an instant, he was at her side. She was barely standing and was covered in her own blood. She tried weakly to push him away.
"Don't, Nottingham." She slowly. "Please. Just leave."
"I will not do that."
Sara started to cry. "It rejected me. I'm not the weilder. You don't have to be here anymore."
"I must, because the witchblade will not."
"Please," she begged, "Just let me die." Sara then passed out from blood lost. He caught her limp body. He placed her in the bath tub and ran warm water to wash the blood away. He grabbed some clothes out of her closet and placed them by the sink. He carefully washed her body of the blood.
He cleaned out her wounds as well. He thanked whatever God there was that she had cut across her wrist. That's what they show in the movies and she had believed it. The real way, vertically, would have killed her by now. He thought of the two matching scars on his own wrists.
He quickly dried her off. He bandaged her wrists before quickly changing her bloody garments. He placed her lightly on her bed before going back into the bathroom. He cleaned it of her blood. Then he saw the witchblade lying on the floor.
"Retrieve it or forfeit your life."
He could take it back to the mansion. Irons would be satisfied, Ian could keep his life. No more chaos for Sara.
He glanced out the door and looked at Sara. Without the witchblade, Sara would not survive. Without Sara, he could not survive. Not helping her was pointless. Anyway around this, and he would lose his life.
He picked up the witchblade and put it back on Sara's bandaged wrist. If he was going to die, it might as well be for the only person he loved.
"As long as there is life in me, you shall not see death."
Eli: more later on. Review please.
"Hello?"
"Ian. Where is she? Are you close by?"
"She is in her loft. I am close by."
"Her lover is dead. It will soon leave her wrist. Retrieve it, Ian. Retrieve it or forfeit your life."
"Yes, sir." ~
Sara sat on her bed, alone. She was oblivious to the phone ringing, the lights on, and her portector watching her every room.
She was empty, lost. She had had a chance to rekindle something eternal, and now it was gone.
Forever.
The witchblade gave her no time to grieve. It bombarded her with visions from the first life time, the forgotten life time. How they met, made love, and how he died. All in a matter of two weeks. It was so painful to watch. She couldn't get the images out. She got off her bed and stumbled into her bathroom. She washed her face and tried in vain to keep her eyes open. She gazed into the glass.
Her eyes had dark circles around them. Her cheeks wet from tears. The windows of her soul showed pain, misery, and weakness.
She was now vulnerable.
The witchblade quietly stopped glowing and dropped off from her wrist. She only heard it clank as it hit the ground. Her mind said to pick it up, but it took her body two minutes to respond. She reached down for it when she noticed the pocket knife she kept on the shelf. All rooms in her house had weapons, bathroom no exception.
The witchblade was forgotten. She picked the pocketknife up and stared at it for the longest time. It was so small. Something this small could end it all. Make the pain go away. That's all she wanted all the pain since her father's death to go away. Over 15 years of heartache could finally be forgotten. If only she had enough stregnth.
Did she have the stregnth? The witchblade sent her one final words. Gabriel's voice could be heard as comic panels flashed behind her eyes.
"Wouldn't you rather see me freefalling amongst the stars, then chained down to a lide which would only further my disdain, or even worst, my apathy?"
She thought on it a while. Wasn't it better to have peace? To have eternal sleep? Who left on this earth loved her, cared for her? Her mind was set. She flipped the pocketknife out.
Cut, cut, cut. The blood flowed so quickly. All over the floor, her clothes, the sink. Her blood, which had the trace of immortality within it spilled so freely. Her mind went from the darkness. She could see lights.
Sara had been in the bathroom for too long. Ian tried not to grow worried. He waited impatiently for her to come out. Finally, he succumbed to his paranoia and entered the apartment. He knocked on the door before entering the bathroom. His heart froze when he heard no reply. He quietly opened the door. His eyes grew wide with horror.
"Sara." That was all he could say. In an instant, he was at her side. She was barely standing and was covered in her own blood. She tried weakly to push him away.
"Don't, Nottingham." She slowly. "Please. Just leave."
"I will not do that."
Sara started to cry. "It rejected me. I'm not the weilder. You don't have to be here anymore."
"I must, because the witchblade will not."
"Please," she begged, "Just let me die." Sara then passed out from blood lost. He caught her limp body. He placed her in the bath tub and ran warm water to wash the blood away. He grabbed some clothes out of her closet and placed them by the sink. He carefully washed her body of the blood.
He cleaned out her wounds as well. He thanked whatever God there was that she had cut across her wrist. That's what they show in the movies and she had believed it. The real way, vertically, would have killed her by now. He thought of the two matching scars on his own wrists.
He quickly dried her off. He bandaged her wrists before quickly changing her bloody garments. He placed her lightly on her bed before going back into the bathroom. He cleaned it of her blood. Then he saw the witchblade lying on the floor.
"Retrieve it or forfeit your life."
He could take it back to the mansion. Irons would be satisfied, Ian could keep his life. No more chaos for Sara.
He glanced out the door and looked at Sara. Without the witchblade, Sara would not survive. Without Sara, he could not survive. Not helping her was pointless. Anyway around this, and he would lose his life.
He picked up the witchblade and put it back on Sara's bandaged wrist. If he was going to die, it might as well be for the only person he loved.
"As long as there is life in me, you shall not see death."
Eli: more later on. Review please.