Man I haven't updated this in a long time. I really should work on that. I'll probably also use this to experiment with new styles of writing, so there may be some strange chapters coming up. Thanks for reading, and I hope you like it.
Reviewer replies, I'm not used to doing these.
anonymous: More clear and not so deep? I'll try, but I'm not entirely sure how. Got any tips?
mary: Well I'm glad to see I can challenge your opinion of male writing skill. Yeah the way I write may be kind of feminine, because I basically base how I structure my ANs off other stories, and a lot of writers on this fandom are girls (well that's what I've noticed), so that could have led to it. It would be nice to meet a male person on this website though, that'd be interesting. And 'Gone' was just about Puck dying, basically a speculation on what it feels like to die.
Curlscat: Yeah I was going to write why he was dying (there was going to be an alternate ending when it turned out that he wasn't dying, he just fell down the stairs and had like a hallucination, and when he woke up he found Sabrina sitting there waiting for him to wake up because she was worried, but that was too difficult to do. Plus, it didn't feel consistent, so I scrapped it), but I couldn't think of a proper way to incorporate it, so I just left it.
Carseat
They're all gone. Every single one of them, dead! Sabrina curls up into herself, feeling the bile rise in her throat as memories sharp as glass cut through her.
There's some argument going on in that rusty deathtrap, tyres rattling as Puck says something inappropriate and Granny scolds him. Henry and Veronica are singing along to the radio, some old cheesy love song they used to dance to, and Daphne and Red are squeezed up beside her, chatting loudly about something. Leaning back in her chair, Sabrina closes her eyes, desperate for a moment's peace.
The next thing she knows is someone's swearing, and then a loud screech, and then she's thrown violently forward, cracking her head on the car seat in front of her. Her vision shakes, something wet trickles down her head but she doesn't notice because suddenly everything's so hazy now. She drifts in and out. Some time passes, she doesn't know how much, but eventually she feels someone lift her up, sirens blaring, shouts and electric crackles and more sirens. Her eyes close.
When she comes to moments later, she's lying on some bed with a mask on her face. The air smells like smoke and her head's hurts a lot, like someone shoved a knife in there or something, and her hair's all itchy and covered in something. She swivels her eyeballs forward but all she can see is sky, blue and wispy-white. Groaning she lifts herself up slightly, ignoring the horrible wave of nausea, and for her effort she's greeted with the sight of mangled steel. Smoke is coming off it, that would account for the smell, two vehicles smashed together, the red metal of one car bleeding into the other.
Nearby there's a discarded baby seat, it must have been improperly fastened because there's small pieces of windscreen glass surrounding it. It's pitched at such an awkward angle that she can't tell whether someone's in it or not. But then she sees the red line skidding across the road in the wake of the seat, and the pool of glistening red surrounding the chair, and she joins two and two together. Basil. She screams.
They'll be here soon, to take her away to the orphanage again, but this time's Daphne's not here, and Granny won't be here, and no one's going to be here, and she can actually feel herself breaking. She pulls her knees up to her chin and closes her eyes.
...
Time passes. She pretends to be alive, every morning she opens her eyes and nods vaguely at what is said. But inwardly she shuts off all noise, all feeling, inside the tears continues to fall and her heart continues to break.
Strange memories flit by her eyelids, the feeling of new sneakers, a teacher's voice droning on, a small prick as she stubs her toe, but instantly they're banished to some small corner of her mind. Banished there where they fester, til she does not remember them anyway.
...
When she finally surfaces, after ten years of mourning and pretended smiles, she's shocked at what she opens her eyes to. She's grown up more, she's just under average height for her age, but she's shockingly thin, and black heavy bags circle her eyes. Her hair is limp and knotted, her fingers thin and pale, and there is a definite tremor in her left arm.
She stumbles out the door, tripping over the doorstep, into bright cheery sunshine. Men walk nearby, pushing prams, womens jog with sweatbands on, little kids run around with their pets. So many smiles, so much laughter, even the sun mocks her with its brightness.
What is this? Sudden fury builds in her, hot and heavy, why are they happy? Don't they realise that her family is dead, that she has no one left anymore? She feels left behind, ignored, the world has moved on without her and left her to fend for herself.
Despite the death of everyone she loves, despite the fact that every time she breathes in she can feel her lungs tear, her heart being rent into pieces, time will not stop for her.
The earth spins on, as always.
I feel like I'm going to come back to this chapter in a couple months and do some heavy editing, but for now I'm happy with it. Thanks for reading.