Shatter
Word Count: 622
Prompts: Broken Pieces – Eruption – The Tree house
Summary: Spoilers for Chapter 66. Her eyes were the ruin of her life. Since the beginning and will be to the end.
The mirror made a satisfying crash when she smashed her fist into the glass.
Her whole face was distorted, and it pleased her to some extent. Only it wasn't enough, because her red eyes still reflected back at her.
She grabbed the shards of glass in her one hand, effectively cutting all her fingers and palm. The pain was sharp and hot.
"Lacie?" A voice said from the bottom of the tree. It was his voice, fraught with concern. She didn't answer him, but the glass tinkled as she moved her hand away from the mirror, and started to pick out the pieces that had become embedded into her skin.
It wasn't long before she heard him climbing the rope ladder into the tree house. She ignored him when he looked over the edging of the weakening platform.
He pulled himself into the small tree house, and Lacie heard the floor creak.
"You might break it under your weight," she told him, "You should probably get down. Besides, I don't feel like talking to anyone."
He didn't say anything, but he didn't leave either. He sat down next to her by the back of the tree house, which was where the only wall of the tree house that was still standing. He didn't even have the decency to comment on her bloody hand and the shattered and red mirror.
They were quiet besides the pinging of the sound of glass falling to the floor.
Even after so long, the tree house was still only theirs. The one place they were seemingly able to hide from Glen. He couldn't find them here.
The tree house was old, and falling apart. The roof had collapsed and the floorboards were weak, ready to fall out from under their feet at any given time.
It was still peaceful to Lacie though, and she never wanted to lose this one sacred spot.
But it felt like she was now, because no matter where she went, her fate followed her.
She tilted her hand back and forth; pretty sure she had gotten all of the shards out of her skin.
Her brother leaned forward, holding a handkerchief. She stretched out her hand and allowed him to tie it around her palm and fingers, trying to staunch the blood.
"You're going to need to get that checked," he told her, watching a bird flutter around in the branches.
She sighed and pushed the mirror farther away from her with her foot. The mirror was decorated with red, but it could have as well been her own eyes looking back at her.
Her eyes were the ruin of her life. Since the beginning and will be to the end.
She touched her lower eyelid with the thumb of her un-bloodied hand, feeling the orb underneath the weight of her finger.
Her brother gently reached out and grabbed her hand from her face before she could think about doing anything physically damaging.
She sighed again, feeling a couple tears well up in her vision. "Oswald," she said quietly, "I don't know what to do."
He squeezed her hand and didn't answer.
She pulled her hand out of his and covered her face with them, feeling the warm blood touch her skin.
Oswald moved closer to hear, and wrapped his hand around her shoulders, pulling her closer until she leaned against him. He started to softly hum that one melody he would always sing whenever she was stressed out to the brink of her being.
She let out a breath with his humming, listening to the vibration of his chest underneath her cheek. She could feel her body unconsciously relax. There was only the throbbing of her hand that ruined her peacefulness.