Dream the First
Mon Dieu, it could not be happening again.
Again? Had it happened before? No… no not exactly like this. But something like this. Something like this…
He held his sister in his arms, so much dead weight, standing at his own door. She'd only just arrived, wearing nothing but that pink bikini. Close cropped dark hair, terror in her eyes. He had not seen her in so long… so long…
And she'd collapsed, into his arms. And here he stood, holding her, like a baby. He thought he should yell for help. Hadn't he yelled for help last time?
But when he looked around, it was dark. His living room had vanished. And all he had was Jeanne-Marie, in his arms.
No. No, this wasn't right.
He sat down, held her in his lap. "Wake up, sister," he whispered, hearing the desperation in his voice.
Her face. Her beautiful face. So pale. Hungry. Dieu, where had she been? She'd been with Walter non? Living with Walter…
"Jeanne-Marie, please… please…" Panic. Begging. He hated feeling panic. He hated begging.
But she was utterly unresponsive. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her face was growing ashen.
No. No, it hadn't happened this way. His eyes began to burn. He hugged her close now, holding her frail form to his chest, feeling her skin grow cold against him.
"No," he said it aloud this time. "No, Please Jeanne-Marie, look at me. Look at me, sister. This is not right…" his eyes began to pool up as he noticed the desperation in his own voice. And the salt water began to drip now, sliding down his cheeks.
He held her tighter, but she was getting so cold.
"No, please. No…"
But he knew, somehow. She was dying. She had come all the way to his door, wanting to be saved. And she was dying here, in his arms.
When had she gotten so thin?
When had she gotten away from him?
If only he had not said such things to her… such things in his jealousy, in his stupidity…
His heart was thudding, his cheeks were wet. His head felt so hot. So hot.
He held her like a baby again, and looked at her face. Her sweet, innocent face. The color had faded from it completely, it was a dull, lifeless grey. "Jeanne-Marie… I'm so sorry. Je suis désolé, ma soeur. Je suis désolé."
Suddenly, his heart stopped entirely.
Because she smiled, a horrible, toothy leering smile. And opened her eyes.
Not the blue eyes of the Beaubier twins. No.
Shocking, virulent, purple.
Maya.