#19
She tried her best to bury her voice deep down her throat so she wouldn't scream.
Unfortunately for her, the pain seared through her lower back and burned and burned and burned again. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, gasping for air, unable to keep her mouth shut. She knows otherwise but hopes anyway that the air will somehow cool the burn. The pain doesn't stop, relentless and unforgiving. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
There's a voice ringing in her ears now, it's loud, it's really loud and strained. Was it hers? It sure doesn't sound like hers. She doesn't even have the strength to cry out anymore. It's still screaming, still pained. Actually, maybe it is her voice. That's probably where all the fight in her went. Her arms grow limp against the cold surface where Jack once stood tall, yanking a chain that would never come loose. The steel pressing against her lower back still burns into her skin. She blinks away the clouds in her eyes and feels sweat trailing down her forehead. There is no way she can move her arm up to wipe it away.
The ghost of the burning stick still presses up against her (it may never leave) but she hears footsteps and finds movement behind her. Mark, a friend of Goodwin's once upon a time who she's only crossed paths with a handful of times, moves to examine the skin on her back and if he wasn't the one responsible for putting the damn thing there in the first place she would nicely wave his efforts off. Now she just wants him to get the hell away from her. She knows it's not quite his fault, knows he's just the man receiving the orders, knows he doesn't, didn't, and never had a choice but it doesn't make it any better. More than anyone she knows this is much preferable than the alternative (or, wait, is it really? At least she wouldn't be in this godforsaken rock anymore. The thought of Rachel and Julian always brings her back though. They're the reason she still roams around like a ghost on the island, doing things she wishes she could stop doing. Rachel and Julian, Rachel and Julian, she can't die here, she can't die now. She has to go back. She finally decides it is definitely better than the alternative) but it doesn't make it any less painful or the whole situation any less crappy.
When Mark leaves her side, she tells herself to move. Her fingers feel stiff and weak as she pushes herself off. The pain causes her to cringe, threatens to make her collapse again but she doesn't let it. It takes her longer than usual to stand up straight and grunts escape her lips despite her lame efforts to stay silent. The bags under her eyes are more prominent now as her skin is pale and almost translucent. It's over. Only it's not.
It never will be.
AN: Thank you so much to everyone who reads this silly compilation of shorts! I was thinking I won't update anymore but then I saw someone (inthissleeplessness) on Tumblr listed this as one of their favorite Suliet fics and wow, I was so blown away because it's listed with my favorite Suliet fics written by makealist and tia8206 on here so thank you so much to Tumblr user inthissleeplessness! Also special thank you to Monica for being the most supportive and encouraging reader I could ever ask for :')