The Goddess Crystal

Chapter 19: Hugs

Leith—or his body?—hits the ground, knocked off his feet by the shock of the recoil. The gun lands in the sand next to his arm, and I find I'm screaming. Not his name, not any words. Just a noise that encompasses the loss of an enemy, of a friend, of a child. Because that's what Leith is. A child that the world warped.

I rush to his side. Memories of when Skye had been shot, when I'd been shot, ricochet in my head. "Leith? Dear, Goddess, Leith!" I press my hand to his chest, and it comes away bloodied.

Skye continues to stand away from Leith, closer to the entrance than me. I realize he's scared. I can't imagine what it must be like for him; his father died in much the same way Leith is—did?

I nearly burst into tears when I see Leith is breathing. But what good will crying do?

"J...Jill..." he gasps. "So…rry."

The moment had been too quick—where did he shoot himself? In the chest? The head? Oh, Goddess.

"Leith, you're okay, you're fine." I look to Skye. "Can you go get help?"

Skye is about to leave when Leith starts choking. "Don't...waste your...time."

"Skye, go!"

Leith grabs weakly at my hand. "I...need to...tell you some...something."

"Skye, just please get help."

Leith coughs, groans, and looks at Skye. "Don't...do anyth...thing, Thief. Ji...Jill?"

"Yes?" Oh, dear Goddess, don't die! I know I've probably wished for this moment so many times in my mind, but I never really meant it.

"I...used you. I would...would've killed y...you, if I ha...had my way."

"Wha-what?"

Leith's breath rattles. "You...were my...way to get the Cry...Crystal. I was...going to kill...you once I...go...got it."

"Don't say that," I say, "You're in a lot of pain, and that's been known to make people say things—"

"I...I'm not...lying. T...trust me...okay?" Tears well in his eyes. He tugs at my hand, which is still caught in his. "One...final hu...hug...for old times'...sake?"

"Don't say that! Stop saying it like you're going to die, because you're not." Okay, tears, here they come. I look at Skye, who stands transfixed at the scene. "Skye, please go get help! Please."

A horrible rattling sound makes me turn my head back to look at Leith. I choke back a sob. Leith's empty, glassy gaze tells me everything.

"No! No!" I scream, collapsing onto his chest. I give into crying. "Leith, please, no. Don't go. Not after what just happened!"

I feel Skye's hands pulling me away. I flail blindly. "No, he can't be dead."

Skye crushes me in a hug. "Shh, Jill, he's gone. You can't do anything. I'm so sorry, but there's nothing you can do."

There, in Skye's arms, next to the bleeding body of my friend, I cry and wail, "I-I didn't give him his hug…"

I sit, eyes probably red, covered in a blanket, slumped as the body bag is taken out of the cavern. I vaguely wonder about the condition of my hair, but decide it takes too much effort.

Skye comes over, having spoken to a police officer. He sits next to me and sighs. "They're taking the body to the morgue."

"He doesn't have any family," I mutter. "Who's going to claim his body?" I shiver violently and clutch at my blanket.

"I don't know. They might have to bury it at the City's expense."

"Or they might use it for scientific study," I say, not caring how disgusting an option that is. Maybe I would've cared before, but why waste the energy?

"Don't say that. They'll bury the body once it isn't claimed. Don't worry."

"Don't call him 'the body'," I snap. "He was a person."

"Jill, but it's a body—"

"Don't. Call. Him. That."

Skye sighs and nods. "Let's go to the base, then."

I can't sleep; I don't bother going to breakfast the next morning. Why should I eat? There's no point. I should be dead. I'll spare somebody a bullet and do it myself, old fashioned style. Maybe I could starve to death.

At one point, one leg is hanging off the edge of the bed, kicking absently. My heel hits something, and, curiosity a bright speck in numbness, I look under the bed. A familiar duffel sits, lonely and sulking, on the floor. I think about the Goddess—Sephia—and flop back onto the mattress, growling. I grasp my anger with eager palms; it's the first hard emotion I've felt besides despair, sadness and emptiness.

I wonder about Leith. I wonder how it felt to die. Is it like they describe in books or movies? A warm feeling? Did Leith realize the things he should've realized while he was alive? Did he accept his fate with grace?

No. Books lie and movies hide the truth.

Death isn't warm; you learn that when you've spent enough time at the Hospital. Death isn't some 'Eureka!' moment. You're panicking, you're lost, you're broken. You lost at this big game we call life. And death isn't even a consolation prize. Death isn't something you accept; you fight and claw and try your best to destroy it before it does the same to you. Death isn't a friend. Death is simply a horrible truth that comes to, at the most, relieve pain.

Death is a painkiller to many, though it's one Doctors and Nurses cringe from its use.

The door opens, slamming out the morbid thoughts. A head of silver hair peaks in. I roll over so I'm not looking at Skye's worried face.

"Jill? Aren't you getting up?" Skye leaves the door open, I can tell; I don't hear it closing. I feel an irrational feeling of annoyance.

"Shut the door," I snap. "I'm cold."

"Jill, don't you want to go to the funeral?"

I burrow deeper in my blankets, shivering. "Can you leave?"

Skye sighs but doesn't make a move to leave. "Are you going?"

I don't answer. The bed creaks as Skye gets up. Maybe he will leave. But instead he just walks around to other side of the bed, the way I'm facing, and nudges my arm. "What?" I snap. I've been doing that a lot. Snapping at him.

"Move over."

"Why? You think there's a lot of room or something?" But, nonetheless, I scooch over enough for him to lie on his side, facing me.

"You seemed cold," Skye says as a way of an excuse. He reaches out his arm. Warmth radiates off him. "Come on."

I resist the urge to crush him in a hug and instead tuck my arms around myself, curling up. "Why should I? Leith didn't get one."

Skye blinks. "One, what?"

"A hug."

"You can't blame yourself. You were trying to help him. In fact, if anyone's to blame, it should be me. I didn't go when you told me to."

I snort, then instantly feel guilty. "That's crazy. You couldn't have gotten help fast enough."

Skye smiles sadly. "Exactly." He grabs my hand and squeezes. "Come on. Let's go to the funeral."

Tempest Bound: ...How many of you are going to rage-quit? It's funny 'cause I haven't seen much activity on fanfiction lately; maybe most of you won't read it. I'll probably get a whole lot of angry PM's, either way...