**Disclaimer: Seifer is tied up in my basement. Squaresoft owns the rest *
grins *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 10: No-one to remember
The second morning came with the rain pouring even harder, an icy wind splattering the heavy drops against the windows. It produced an unsteady music, but somehow, Quistis found it oddly relaxing.
She had been sleeping for at least fifteen hours now, and glanced at the bedside clock to discover noon had passed the flame to a young afternoon. The lightning was low in the room, which was also silent. Where was the blonde? Could he have left her there? Suddenly feeling a shard of panic, Quistis tried to sit up, groaning through clenched teeth when she discovered every muscle in her body seemed to have gone berserk while she was sleeping.
"Here, don't overdo it, little girl." A pair of strong hand slid under her arms and hooked her up. Quistis gasped in surprise.
"Where were you?" She asked, secretly thankful of course for his presence.
"Right here. Where do you think I might have gone?" His tone was playful.
"I don't know.nevermind."
Seifer smiled at the perfect Instructor impression. In fact, he had been gone while she was sleeping this morning, to buy food for them and clothes for her, since she had nothing else than this horrible oversized white thing to wear. Of course he had to buy women underwear, under a shopkeeper's mocking stare. But as long as it was for her, he didn't care.
"How do you feel?" He asked, pushing two pillows behind her back to steady her.
"Good. Sore. But good."
"You hungry?"
"Maybe?"
"I'll leave food near."
"You're leaving??"
This time Seifer had to laugh at her outraged tone, although she still tried to look like she didn't cared at all.
"No, I won't. We have enough food and money for a couple of days. You want to change clothes?"
Quistis slightly lifted the corner of the fluffy blanket up to see she had still the horrible white dress on, stained and ripped from the long travel on a chocobo's back-and luckily enough, Seifer's constant curses weren't sharps, otherwise not only the cloth, but herself too would have been reduced to shreds.
"Yeah, I guess." And she shifted her body so her feet were touching the soft rug on the ground. She pushed her body up, only to fall back on the bed, her legs too weak to support her weight. A slight chuckle came from Seifer's throat before he stretched his hand in her direction. She gave him a death glare before accepting the help. Her cheeks were already flushed bright red from the shame of the situation, but Seifer simply led her to the small bathroom, where her clothes were already neatly folded and waiting. Quistis smiled at the panties and bra, quite too big for her. She stiffled a laughter at the oversized pink shirt with a ridiculous heart patch over the heart area. Happily enough, the jeans were just a hint too big, but hung nicely to her hips. Last part, a large piece of fabric laid under the clothes. Quistis picked it up and unfolded it, marveling at the beautifully drawn flowers imprinted on it, roses, in subtle tints of silver and grays. Puzzled, Quistis opened the door and held it in Seifer's direction, asking with liquid blue eyes. Seifer cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.
"That.for your head.in case you.you know?"
Quistis' eyes grew wider. She turned back to the bathroom, and stood in front of the mirror, noticing for the first time her strange shaven head, which now harbored spiky blonde roots, except on the right side of her skull, where a rather large, purplish scar deformed the skin. Quistis brushed a tentative finger against the tortured skin and winced in pain. It was still raw, and probably infected. Then her vision went blurry, and she realized she was crying, tears gathering and flowing down only to be replaced as quickly. She didn't knew why she cried, but she hurt, deep inside a wound had opened, and she bled, she bled so hard she was suprised, looking down at her open hands, that they were not stained with crimson.
Seifer's hand on her shoulder made her jump. She turned away from him, hiding her tears-marked face away from that man she knew had been a part of her life, but couldn't tell which. Seifer understood, and didn't force her to turn back to him. Instead, he took the piece of fabric from her clutching hands, and slowly wrapped it around the bruised skull, until nothing but creamy, perfect young skin showed. He tied the cloth a little down the nape of her neck. The long tail of fabric left slid graciously down her back, reminding of real hair.
Seifer slid out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving her to her tears. There's nothing more a stranger could do to her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zell never looked more pure, nor more innocent, in his whole life. His usually bouncy nature had been totally neutralized by the action of the sickening whiteness and the drugs injected in his short body, and he sat straight as a piece of wood beside the small bed, his originally spiky hair laying flat on both side of his childish face. He stared at nothingness. He thought nothing.
Squall wanted to die right now for not being able to get his lover out of this mess yet. He wanted to be at Zell's side right now, rather than having to watch him from afar with scan spells. But he had no choice. Squall Leonhart's face was amongst the most known faces in whole Gaia right now, contrary of Seifer, whose acts as a Sorceress knight had been mostly hid and forgotten since his readmission in Garden, and his graduation. Trying to fit in the place in hope to snatch Zell like Seifer did with Quistis was useless. He had to find a better way.
And he had to do it quickly. It would soon be his third day of relentless wandering around the ranch. He had been sighting quite a few strange things, most of them still unexplained to him. He looked like shit, smelled the same, and mostly fed on grass and water, like a cow. Hyne, he was beginning to feel like one.
Slowly, Squall rose from the ground where he had hidden, under a wood rack, while he scanner his lover's state. Zell was alive, but he was slowly losing it. Zell was strong, but he was the kind to lose hope easily, and without anybody to support him, Squall had no doubt he wouldn't last long. Zell would prefer to die rather than having to live a life he couldn't lead. He had told that to Squall many times.
But how could Squall make his way through the place looking for him? Shave his head then dive in? His scar would give everyone a hint. Trying to hide his face would give everyone a hint. Here, all alone, there were absolutely no ways he could help his lover. And he swore not to leave this place without him.
So now, what?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Allen had woken up at the first rays of dawn, unable to sleep but unable to stay awake, his mind constantly drifting between dream world and the cold air of his bedroom. This place was always chilly, as inhabited by its own angry spirit. The boy never understood why, but that anger seemed to target him. That's why he never spent much time in this place. When he wanted to paint, he'd paint outside the room, on the small balcony that was next to his room, and where he slept when the nights were hot. He had wanted the night before, when the presence in the room started to melt on him, so hardly he almost felt crushed. But rain poured hard outside, all night, and still fell like it wanted to drown everything.
Sighting, he had to admit nothing could bring him back to rest, and threw the heavy covers off his body, which instantly covered in chills. He sat up on the mattress, waiting for his head to clear. Out of the window that was directly over his bedpost, Allen silently watched his mom's worker sweat and swear trying to move farm devices through the running mud.
The very moment his toes touched the icy floor, he knew this day was gonna be a shitty one. He ran to his bathroom and swiftly turned the water very hot, releasing his bladders and brushing his teeth while the tub filled with steamy liquid. He then immersed his pale body into the tub, instantly turning a nice lobster red. The scar on his head started to ache. No matter how he tried and no matter how many curaga spells his mother used on it, the wound never healed properly, and the red colour never faded as it was supposed to do. As much as the boy tried to forget the ugly mark on him, his mind constantly drifted back to it. Mother never properly explained the circumstances of that moment, when he fell down the pier and blacked out. And with the time, just as the scar, that sick feeling that something was wrong kept lingering in his head.
The clock on the wall in front of him indicated near six. He had promised to meet Erin at ten, near Obel Lake. She wanted to go fishing again, but on a boat this time. Little foolish girl. He had to make sure he'd find a life jacket for her, as he learned the day before that Erin never learned how to swim. This, of course, had been kept hidden to him until she fell down the small platform where they stood, in her utter joy of catching her first trout.
Allen remembered how he couldn't believe his own sight, as she laughed like mad when he pulled her out of the water, all fear and panic forgotten and still holding to the fish for her dear life. At this very moment he had known this treasure was never going to leave his side, as long as he was going to live.
But right now, the water was cooling up, he was wrinkled and hungry. The usual sound of his mother working in the kitchen was missing and, as he walked out of the bathroom with a long towel hanging low on his waist, he noticed the usual golden light creeping from under the door was also missing. Silent and dark, the house seemed out of time.
Allen quickly slid a pair of fading blue jeans and a too large black long- sleeved shirt over his chilly body, then two pairs of socks, and a loose necklace with a dragonfly-shaped steel pendant. The door and floor unpleasantly creaked in the silence of the place. Allen walked up to the kitchen and lit the room up, golden light flowing along with the feeling of reassurance he needed. Outside, the wind had started blowing with strenght, shoving the heavy droplets against the window. Where did his mother go, in such a crappy weather? Allen thought, for a short moment, about cancelling the fishing trip with his little pixie. But she would probably insist upon going anyway, so he better get his breakfast quick, put his raincoat on and go fumble in the mud pit the place had turned into for the life jacket. If he found out they hadn't any, he would have to make one out of anything- even if he had to sew Hyne-damned barrels together for that purpose.
Right after breakfast, Allen put his rubber boots on and plastic yellow raincoat, and headed outside. He was actually surprised to discover the violent rain was actually pretty warm. Many of the workers outside had not even put a raincoat on, and preferred to simply shed their clothes and work in their underpants. Allen walked a few meters before choosing to at least get rid of the annoying material of the raincoat and let his clothes get soaked.
A good hour later, he emerged swearing from the last barn. Nothing he found could get close to a life jacket. They had been living near one of the biggest lake on Gaia for years and there was not even one life jacket in the whole place?
The last thing Allen wanted was to have to walk up to the two last places where he could find his 'treasure', two small storage areas deep in the woods where he knew the men had been piling stuff for years. He dared not even to think about what kind of creatures could live in this place, but assumed no Marlboros could have make their ways up there. With this in mind, the boy started to climb the hill, his worn out rubber boots slipping in the clay mud until he decided to take them off too and continue barefoot. The cool slippery ground felt good under his feet, and soon enough he also took off his drenched shirt to let the goodness of heaven water. The storage barns were situated quite far from the main place, Hyne knew why. He actually never had to go up there.
The light grew a little bit brighter, and the rain a little bit lighter, as the boy entered the woods up the hill. Small wood sticks with pink ribbons showed to way to the clearing where he knew the barns stood. Allen smiled and resumed it's way, starting to seriously delight at the feel of rain on his body and soft squishy ground under his feet. The whole scene had a surreal taste, just like his own life, sometimes.
It took him a good hour to reach the place. He walked slowly, not really wanting this trip to end. But eventually, the dark forms of the two wood buildings appeared through the trees. They were middle-sized buildings with steel roofs and no windows. The ground around them seemed to have been recently moved, as all trace of grass was gone, and his feet easily sank in the sandy texture. Allen walked to the closest barn and walked in. He was actually VERY surprised to find it completely empty, except for a single tractor with a huge shovel, and some tarpaulins laying in a corner. Even more surprising, the ground seemed to have been moved in the exact way he saw outside in the clearing. Not thinking too much of it-they could be doing some cleaning after all- the boy walked back out and to the other building. The scene was similar, except the small tractor there had a trailed attached to it, with a tarpaulin covering its content. Allen had seen many of these around the place, their content most of the time hidden like this one. He never thought about what could be under the white plastic sheet, but this time curiosity won over the rest and he walked up to the trailer and undid the several ties that kept the tarpaulin tight shut. The plastic crunched as it was moved backwards, revealing.
A pair of cold eyes.
Allen jerked away with a gasp. The hand that he used to reveal that horror instantly hid behind his back. The face of the dead woman seemed to have been frozen in deep horror, the blueish colour of the skin causing his stomach to painfully tighten. His gaze moved from the woman to the shuffled ground, the link finally done. Without thinking, Allen fell on his knees and started digging with his bare hands, until his fingers touched something squishy and cold, a breast. A dead breast, belonging to yet another dead woman.
Hyne.a common grave.the whole's place a fucking common grave.
The clearing.the squishy feeling under his feet.he had been walking on cadavers, maybe hundreds of them.
Allen's gaze moved from the half-dug corpse to the woman's glazed stare. He then remembered seeing her walk around the place, working in his mother's rather large garden, or sitting around with a sad or pained look. Who was she? What was her purpose on this Gaia? He would never know. Nor her.
Pushing away his fear and disgust, Allen grabbed the plastic and ripped it away from the trailer. The cadavers, piled in grotesque poses, appeared, along with a foul stench of death. Allen recognized a few faces, then walked to the back of the trailer to look at the remaining ones. His chest tightened in anticipation.
Then he couldn't breathe anymore. As hard as he tried, his lungs refused to follow, as if they already decided that since she was no longer here, he couldn't live anymore. He had somehow half-waited to see her like this, although a part of him refused to accept this possibility, and now refused to recognise the small white-dressed cadaver as hers. Refused to recognise the long blond hair, the pouty lips, the half-closed pale eyes. Amongst all those terrorized faces, she seemed in peace. Maybe her death wasn't painful at all. Small consolation. Tears-filled eyes soon made the image too blurry to recognize, offering him a bit of relief. In the aching half-dream, he saw his own hands reach over to the lifeless child, gather the still slightly warm body in his arms, and walk out of the barn. His swirling mind had settled into one steady idea: find her a grave, a grave just for her, where no-one but him could come and think about only her.
The rain had almost stopped, a weak but still warm sun greeted him. He walked out and away from the clearing, and deep into the woods he barely knew. He walked out of time and over the ground, having cast haste and float on himself to hide the hypothetical traces he could leave behind him. Maybe an hour, maybe two, maybe more passed. The heavy clouds had come back to cover the skies and hide the sun's position to the boy's careless eyes. Finally, the sound of running water came to his ears, as he approached one of the small rivers connected to Obel Lake. only when the water was in view, did he stopped and laid his burden on the ground. Without a look back to Erin, Allen searched for the perfect burial place, until he found a raised spot, where an old tree bent over the water. On his knees, he plunged his hands in the humid ground and dug. His fingers soon encountered rocks and roots, and his own blood mixed with the mud. The pain was probably sharp, but he didn't felt it. Finally, the tortured flesh pushed for a last time and he stood. Erin's now cold and stiff body was tenderly nudged in the hole.
The young boy closed his eyes before starting to fill the hole. He started out quickly, then slowed down once the painful sight of her dead form was no longer detectable through the coat of dirt. Ten minutes later, he scattered dead leaves and sticks over the tapped ground, and cast another float spell on him before taking a few steps back, making sure absolutely no signs of the grave, nor of his passage there, could be seen.
Then, and only then, did he allowed himself to shatter in pieces.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oookay...so I am a heartless bitch :) Please no flaming 'kay? I created Erin's character in the purpose of killing her. She was meant to be a trigger.
As always, my love and hugs to my faithful readers and reviewers ;) thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 10: No-one to remember
The second morning came with the rain pouring even harder, an icy wind splattering the heavy drops against the windows. It produced an unsteady music, but somehow, Quistis found it oddly relaxing.
She had been sleeping for at least fifteen hours now, and glanced at the bedside clock to discover noon had passed the flame to a young afternoon. The lightning was low in the room, which was also silent. Where was the blonde? Could he have left her there? Suddenly feeling a shard of panic, Quistis tried to sit up, groaning through clenched teeth when she discovered every muscle in her body seemed to have gone berserk while she was sleeping.
"Here, don't overdo it, little girl." A pair of strong hand slid under her arms and hooked her up. Quistis gasped in surprise.
"Where were you?" She asked, secretly thankful of course for his presence.
"Right here. Where do you think I might have gone?" His tone was playful.
"I don't know.nevermind."
Seifer smiled at the perfect Instructor impression. In fact, he had been gone while she was sleeping this morning, to buy food for them and clothes for her, since she had nothing else than this horrible oversized white thing to wear. Of course he had to buy women underwear, under a shopkeeper's mocking stare. But as long as it was for her, he didn't care.
"How do you feel?" He asked, pushing two pillows behind her back to steady her.
"Good. Sore. But good."
"You hungry?"
"Maybe?"
"I'll leave food near."
"You're leaving??"
This time Seifer had to laugh at her outraged tone, although she still tried to look like she didn't cared at all.
"No, I won't. We have enough food and money for a couple of days. You want to change clothes?"
Quistis slightly lifted the corner of the fluffy blanket up to see she had still the horrible white dress on, stained and ripped from the long travel on a chocobo's back-and luckily enough, Seifer's constant curses weren't sharps, otherwise not only the cloth, but herself too would have been reduced to shreds.
"Yeah, I guess." And she shifted her body so her feet were touching the soft rug on the ground. She pushed her body up, only to fall back on the bed, her legs too weak to support her weight. A slight chuckle came from Seifer's throat before he stretched his hand in her direction. She gave him a death glare before accepting the help. Her cheeks were already flushed bright red from the shame of the situation, but Seifer simply led her to the small bathroom, where her clothes were already neatly folded and waiting. Quistis smiled at the panties and bra, quite too big for her. She stiffled a laughter at the oversized pink shirt with a ridiculous heart patch over the heart area. Happily enough, the jeans were just a hint too big, but hung nicely to her hips. Last part, a large piece of fabric laid under the clothes. Quistis picked it up and unfolded it, marveling at the beautifully drawn flowers imprinted on it, roses, in subtle tints of silver and grays. Puzzled, Quistis opened the door and held it in Seifer's direction, asking with liquid blue eyes. Seifer cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.
"That.for your head.in case you.you know?"
Quistis' eyes grew wider. She turned back to the bathroom, and stood in front of the mirror, noticing for the first time her strange shaven head, which now harbored spiky blonde roots, except on the right side of her skull, where a rather large, purplish scar deformed the skin. Quistis brushed a tentative finger against the tortured skin and winced in pain. It was still raw, and probably infected. Then her vision went blurry, and she realized she was crying, tears gathering and flowing down only to be replaced as quickly. She didn't knew why she cried, but she hurt, deep inside a wound had opened, and she bled, she bled so hard she was suprised, looking down at her open hands, that they were not stained with crimson.
Seifer's hand on her shoulder made her jump. She turned away from him, hiding her tears-marked face away from that man she knew had been a part of her life, but couldn't tell which. Seifer understood, and didn't force her to turn back to him. Instead, he took the piece of fabric from her clutching hands, and slowly wrapped it around the bruised skull, until nothing but creamy, perfect young skin showed. He tied the cloth a little down the nape of her neck. The long tail of fabric left slid graciously down her back, reminding of real hair.
Seifer slid out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving her to her tears. There's nothing more a stranger could do to her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zell never looked more pure, nor more innocent, in his whole life. His usually bouncy nature had been totally neutralized by the action of the sickening whiteness and the drugs injected in his short body, and he sat straight as a piece of wood beside the small bed, his originally spiky hair laying flat on both side of his childish face. He stared at nothingness. He thought nothing.
Squall wanted to die right now for not being able to get his lover out of this mess yet. He wanted to be at Zell's side right now, rather than having to watch him from afar with scan spells. But he had no choice. Squall Leonhart's face was amongst the most known faces in whole Gaia right now, contrary of Seifer, whose acts as a Sorceress knight had been mostly hid and forgotten since his readmission in Garden, and his graduation. Trying to fit in the place in hope to snatch Zell like Seifer did with Quistis was useless. He had to find a better way.
And he had to do it quickly. It would soon be his third day of relentless wandering around the ranch. He had been sighting quite a few strange things, most of them still unexplained to him. He looked like shit, smelled the same, and mostly fed on grass and water, like a cow. Hyne, he was beginning to feel like one.
Slowly, Squall rose from the ground where he had hidden, under a wood rack, while he scanner his lover's state. Zell was alive, but he was slowly losing it. Zell was strong, but he was the kind to lose hope easily, and without anybody to support him, Squall had no doubt he wouldn't last long. Zell would prefer to die rather than having to live a life he couldn't lead. He had told that to Squall many times.
But how could Squall make his way through the place looking for him? Shave his head then dive in? His scar would give everyone a hint. Trying to hide his face would give everyone a hint. Here, all alone, there were absolutely no ways he could help his lover. And he swore not to leave this place without him.
So now, what?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Allen had woken up at the first rays of dawn, unable to sleep but unable to stay awake, his mind constantly drifting between dream world and the cold air of his bedroom. This place was always chilly, as inhabited by its own angry spirit. The boy never understood why, but that anger seemed to target him. That's why he never spent much time in this place. When he wanted to paint, he'd paint outside the room, on the small balcony that was next to his room, and where he slept when the nights were hot. He had wanted the night before, when the presence in the room started to melt on him, so hardly he almost felt crushed. But rain poured hard outside, all night, and still fell like it wanted to drown everything.
Sighting, he had to admit nothing could bring him back to rest, and threw the heavy covers off his body, which instantly covered in chills. He sat up on the mattress, waiting for his head to clear. Out of the window that was directly over his bedpost, Allen silently watched his mom's worker sweat and swear trying to move farm devices through the running mud.
The very moment his toes touched the icy floor, he knew this day was gonna be a shitty one. He ran to his bathroom and swiftly turned the water very hot, releasing his bladders and brushing his teeth while the tub filled with steamy liquid. He then immersed his pale body into the tub, instantly turning a nice lobster red. The scar on his head started to ache. No matter how he tried and no matter how many curaga spells his mother used on it, the wound never healed properly, and the red colour never faded as it was supposed to do. As much as the boy tried to forget the ugly mark on him, his mind constantly drifted back to it. Mother never properly explained the circumstances of that moment, when he fell down the pier and blacked out. And with the time, just as the scar, that sick feeling that something was wrong kept lingering in his head.
The clock on the wall in front of him indicated near six. He had promised to meet Erin at ten, near Obel Lake. She wanted to go fishing again, but on a boat this time. Little foolish girl. He had to make sure he'd find a life jacket for her, as he learned the day before that Erin never learned how to swim. This, of course, had been kept hidden to him until she fell down the small platform where they stood, in her utter joy of catching her first trout.
Allen remembered how he couldn't believe his own sight, as she laughed like mad when he pulled her out of the water, all fear and panic forgotten and still holding to the fish for her dear life. At this very moment he had known this treasure was never going to leave his side, as long as he was going to live.
But right now, the water was cooling up, he was wrinkled and hungry. The usual sound of his mother working in the kitchen was missing and, as he walked out of the bathroom with a long towel hanging low on his waist, he noticed the usual golden light creeping from under the door was also missing. Silent and dark, the house seemed out of time.
Allen quickly slid a pair of fading blue jeans and a too large black long- sleeved shirt over his chilly body, then two pairs of socks, and a loose necklace with a dragonfly-shaped steel pendant. The door and floor unpleasantly creaked in the silence of the place. Allen walked up to the kitchen and lit the room up, golden light flowing along with the feeling of reassurance he needed. Outside, the wind had started blowing with strenght, shoving the heavy droplets against the window. Where did his mother go, in such a crappy weather? Allen thought, for a short moment, about cancelling the fishing trip with his little pixie. But she would probably insist upon going anyway, so he better get his breakfast quick, put his raincoat on and go fumble in the mud pit the place had turned into for the life jacket. If he found out they hadn't any, he would have to make one out of anything- even if he had to sew Hyne-damned barrels together for that purpose.
Right after breakfast, Allen put his rubber boots on and plastic yellow raincoat, and headed outside. He was actually surprised to discover the violent rain was actually pretty warm. Many of the workers outside had not even put a raincoat on, and preferred to simply shed their clothes and work in their underpants. Allen walked a few meters before choosing to at least get rid of the annoying material of the raincoat and let his clothes get soaked.
A good hour later, he emerged swearing from the last barn. Nothing he found could get close to a life jacket. They had been living near one of the biggest lake on Gaia for years and there was not even one life jacket in the whole place?
The last thing Allen wanted was to have to walk up to the two last places where he could find his 'treasure', two small storage areas deep in the woods where he knew the men had been piling stuff for years. He dared not even to think about what kind of creatures could live in this place, but assumed no Marlboros could have make their ways up there. With this in mind, the boy started to climb the hill, his worn out rubber boots slipping in the clay mud until he decided to take them off too and continue barefoot. The cool slippery ground felt good under his feet, and soon enough he also took off his drenched shirt to let the goodness of heaven water. The storage barns were situated quite far from the main place, Hyne knew why. He actually never had to go up there.
The light grew a little bit brighter, and the rain a little bit lighter, as the boy entered the woods up the hill. Small wood sticks with pink ribbons showed to way to the clearing where he knew the barns stood. Allen smiled and resumed it's way, starting to seriously delight at the feel of rain on his body and soft squishy ground under his feet. The whole scene had a surreal taste, just like his own life, sometimes.
It took him a good hour to reach the place. He walked slowly, not really wanting this trip to end. But eventually, the dark forms of the two wood buildings appeared through the trees. They were middle-sized buildings with steel roofs and no windows. The ground around them seemed to have been recently moved, as all trace of grass was gone, and his feet easily sank in the sandy texture. Allen walked to the closest barn and walked in. He was actually VERY surprised to find it completely empty, except for a single tractor with a huge shovel, and some tarpaulins laying in a corner. Even more surprising, the ground seemed to have been moved in the exact way he saw outside in the clearing. Not thinking too much of it-they could be doing some cleaning after all- the boy walked back out and to the other building. The scene was similar, except the small tractor there had a trailed attached to it, with a tarpaulin covering its content. Allen had seen many of these around the place, their content most of the time hidden like this one. He never thought about what could be under the white plastic sheet, but this time curiosity won over the rest and he walked up to the trailer and undid the several ties that kept the tarpaulin tight shut. The plastic crunched as it was moved backwards, revealing.
A pair of cold eyes.
Allen jerked away with a gasp. The hand that he used to reveal that horror instantly hid behind his back. The face of the dead woman seemed to have been frozen in deep horror, the blueish colour of the skin causing his stomach to painfully tighten. His gaze moved from the woman to the shuffled ground, the link finally done. Without thinking, Allen fell on his knees and started digging with his bare hands, until his fingers touched something squishy and cold, a breast. A dead breast, belonging to yet another dead woman.
Hyne.a common grave.the whole's place a fucking common grave.
The clearing.the squishy feeling under his feet.he had been walking on cadavers, maybe hundreds of them.
Allen's gaze moved from the half-dug corpse to the woman's glazed stare. He then remembered seeing her walk around the place, working in his mother's rather large garden, or sitting around with a sad or pained look. Who was she? What was her purpose on this Gaia? He would never know. Nor her.
Pushing away his fear and disgust, Allen grabbed the plastic and ripped it away from the trailer. The cadavers, piled in grotesque poses, appeared, along with a foul stench of death. Allen recognized a few faces, then walked to the back of the trailer to look at the remaining ones. His chest tightened in anticipation.
Then he couldn't breathe anymore. As hard as he tried, his lungs refused to follow, as if they already decided that since she was no longer here, he couldn't live anymore. He had somehow half-waited to see her like this, although a part of him refused to accept this possibility, and now refused to recognise the small white-dressed cadaver as hers. Refused to recognise the long blond hair, the pouty lips, the half-closed pale eyes. Amongst all those terrorized faces, she seemed in peace. Maybe her death wasn't painful at all. Small consolation. Tears-filled eyes soon made the image too blurry to recognize, offering him a bit of relief. In the aching half-dream, he saw his own hands reach over to the lifeless child, gather the still slightly warm body in his arms, and walk out of the barn. His swirling mind had settled into one steady idea: find her a grave, a grave just for her, where no-one but him could come and think about only her.
The rain had almost stopped, a weak but still warm sun greeted him. He walked out and away from the clearing, and deep into the woods he barely knew. He walked out of time and over the ground, having cast haste and float on himself to hide the hypothetical traces he could leave behind him. Maybe an hour, maybe two, maybe more passed. The heavy clouds had come back to cover the skies and hide the sun's position to the boy's careless eyes. Finally, the sound of running water came to his ears, as he approached one of the small rivers connected to Obel Lake. only when the water was in view, did he stopped and laid his burden on the ground. Without a look back to Erin, Allen searched for the perfect burial place, until he found a raised spot, where an old tree bent over the water. On his knees, he plunged his hands in the humid ground and dug. His fingers soon encountered rocks and roots, and his own blood mixed with the mud. The pain was probably sharp, but he didn't felt it. Finally, the tortured flesh pushed for a last time and he stood. Erin's now cold and stiff body was tenderly nudged in the hole.
The young boy closed his eyes before starting to fill the hole. He started out quickly, then slowed down once the painful sight of her dead form was no longer detectable through the coat of dirt. Ten minutes later, he scattered dead leaves and sticks over the tapped ground, and cast another float spell on him before taking a few steps back, making sure absolutely no signs of the grave, nor of his passage there, could be seen.
Then, and only then, did he allowed himself to shatter in pieces.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~xXXx~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oookay...so I am a heartless bitch :) Please no flaming 'kay? I created Erin's character in the purpose of killing her. She was meant to be a trigger.
As always, my love and hugs to my faithful readers and reviewers ;) thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks thanks!!