So I thought I'd give you guys the next chapter :) I'd like to give a HUGE shoutout to Clmbls for reviewing each chapter thus far :D.
Since I'm still writing this piece, I'm not going to post chapter seven until I finish writing chapter sixteen (which is already started :D). I will do my best to finish that chapter within the next week as chapter seven is where the proverbial slinky starts to speed up on its descent.
Enjoy this chapter my friends.
Chapter Six: Beacon
The darkness had become a constant for Olivia Dunham, one thing that she could always have concrete knowledge of.
When she awoke that morning (or night perhaps, she wasn't sure) she thought for an instant that she had been standing while she slept, as if the wall had become a floor. For all she knew, she could've been on the ceiling at that moment.
She'd tried counting the hours, the seconds ticking through her head like the flick of a pencil against paper, the page soon marked with hundreds of slate slashes. Still the hours had slipped from her hands like melted ice, there for a few moments and then slowly disappearing until she had no notion of them at all.
If she had been able to have anything, she would have asked for a skylight, just to be able to see those few bands of light tumble into her cell and watch them coil back up at sunset.
She let memories be her refuge; a plush, comfy shelter where security and joy were her only companions. But the faces were blurry, like paint mixed with too much water. She saw a young woman and a little girl. Her sister? Cousin? And the little girl, what was her name? Emily, Ella, Emma? Something told her that she was her niece, but Olivia couldn't be sure.
She remembered some cases, with frozen people on a bus and bald men with fedoras, but she was sure that they must be dreams.
Then there was Peter, his image clear like polished silver in her mind. The last memory of him was still strong, a steady pulse in her mind that she clung to. She thought back to that memory, to that kiss. It had been the one that finally melted the barrier between her and Peter. She could still remember the gentle pressure of his lips against hers and how the scent of his aftershave tickled her face. The soft touch of his hand against the small of her back still seemed fresh, like a new born crocus in early spring.
What she recalled most about the moment was the passion that ignited between them like a phoenix reborn from ashes, fuelling them with an elixir of promise. And Olivia had eagerly sipped at the passion that poured from Peter's lips, a fountain of hope's liquor. But in the cell, passion had been robbed and hope tangled in thick chains.
The absence of them made Olivia feel hollow. She'd lived a perfect moment where the future had shone before her as they had come together in the most beautifully flawed thing she knew of.
The future had seemed so bright then, it had shone like a diamond and been as tangible as a fresh, crunchy apple. And now it was gone, turned to charred rock and stale, crumbly bread. And at that moment, her eyes brimmed with emotion and then overflowed. She cried for those lost moments, the shattered diamonds and rotten apples.
In that moment, she cried for Peter, and she hoped that when her tears splashed against the cold, dark floor that they would glimmer.
Thank you to those that have read this story thus far, including this chapter. Feel free to leave a review on your way out, I always find words of encouragement make me write a little faster ;).