This is kind of like a companion piece to my other story "In the dark"

I recommend you read this, but you don't have to. You can just assume that Pippin is missing someone.

Set a few weeks after Zillah's death – Merry's sister. Pippin's p.o.v.

I hate her so much it hurts. It hurts so much, all the time. Pain swelling over my heart, breaking it again and again, it never heals. Silently screaming I am. I am so scared, and lost. I feel lost. Why would she have to die, she did nothing wrong.

It hurts me so much; I don't know how to deal. I wonder if Merry is hurting like me.

I wonder why she died and left me behind. I don't ever want to stop crying, I don't ever want to leave her behind in my childhood days. She was mine. My little cousin, whom I loved so much, it hurt. It hurt when she cried, it hurt when she looked so sad and alone and lost. I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her, hold her and tell her it was going to be okay.

I am lost, and I feel broken inside.

I cut my thumb on purpose, because I was too afraid to cut my wrists. It hurt, but not bad, just stung and after a while, even that went away, and I was left with a small red cut on my thumb, but I am still too afraid to cut my wrists. No one even noticed I had a cut. Merry usually notices, but this time, even he didn't.

I don't know why he never looks at me anymore, he hugs me and holds me, lulling me to sleep, but he never looks at me properly. His eyes are usually sad too, but it shouldn't stop him looking at me.

My dad, he tried to comfort me, but he cannot hug me very well, neither can anyone else. They are all awkward around me. Merry is not. He knows me, more than the others do.

For a while I didn't want to believe Zillah was actually gone, she was my angel. But she has gone, and I don't want these memories of her with me anymore, as all they bring is pain, and dreams from which I wake up crying, and I have to look for Merry to stop the tears flowing.

I cut my knee the other day when I fell. No one was there to catch me, in my despair and my unquenchable sadness. I didn't care that it hurt, I was glad, later that night I picked at it and scratched at it, and hoped that it would scar. I also knocked my thumb, causing the wound to open again, and my tears mingled with my blood.

This was how Merry found me, on my bed, knees drawn up to my chin, the knife held against my wrist, not cutting it, I guess I just couldn't find the courage to actually do it. He gasped when he saw me, and I must have looked about to drive the knife into my wrist, because he almost screamed, came running at me, and grasping the knife, wrenched it out off my hand, and threw it with all his might across the room. I looked up at him, my eyes misty, not feeling good enough to ask him for help. He didn't say anything besides my name, crouching in front of me, and taking my hands in his, searching it for cuts, searching and searching. I felt him sigh when he found none on my wrists. A sharp intake of breath announced his finding of the slash, which I had made deeper, on the side of my thumb. He looks at me, taking my chin in one of his hands, and angling my face up so that I am looking at him.

There are tears in his eyes, disappointment I feel, for me who has failed him, I am not worthy enough to be his friend, I am not worthy enough to be anything.

"Did you, Pippin? Did you do this on purpose? Pip?" And he says my name so sorrowfully; fresh tears appear on his face, as he looks into my eyes where he finds the truth.

"Why?" he asks, "Why? Why Pippin? Why?" and he continues crying 'why' as he pulls me to him, and wraps his arms around my quivering body, as we cry and cry and cry. I hold his shirtfront, holding on so tightly, afraid that he will leave me as well. I don't ever want him to leave me alone; I am scared of the dark, I am scared of being by myself.

He knows I am crying myself to sleep, because he lays me on my bed, lying bedside me, as I am still clinging to him. He tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip on his shirt, and try to control the scream that has threatened to escape since the branch broke beneath me on the fateful day when Zillah died. He pulls the blankets over us, and combs my hair with his fingers, sending me to peaceful sleep, where there are no dreams, memories, and I am empty. At last, I find rest, where there are no concerns, just darkness. And I am not alone; Merry is with me, protecting me, like he does. I'm in the arms of the angel.