Desolation [h.s]

Chapter 7

Seraphina Amor

"Seraphina!"

My gaze snaps over to him, his eyes laced with fear. My heart is pounding in my chest, beating against my rib cage, trying to rip itself out.

I'm too far. He's too far.

I struggle, trying to get to him, but it's too much. The pain is overwhelming, coursing its way through every vein and nerve that makes up my body.

He's too far, it's too late.

Tears are building up, burning against the rims of my eyes. I can barely see him anymore, just a mere mosaic of a painting created by my welling tears. I want to reach out, to grab him, to tell him that it's okay. That we're going to be okay.

But that's a lie.

He's completely trapped, his small body covered by metal. The small pool of crimson that's beginning to surround him tells me that.

I couldn't save him. I failed.

"I'm sorry."

My eyes snap open and I shoot up from the bed, panting heavily. My chest is rising and falling quickly, rapid puffs of air escaping my mouth. Frantically, my eyes dart around the room, desperately trying to take in my surroundings.

I'm not there. I'm not there. I'm not there.

My hands come up to my face, feeling the wetness that resided under my eyes. Quickly wiping the tears away, I let out a shaky exhale. Ripping the sheets off of my overheated body, the coldness of the wooden floor makes my toes curl as they're met with the cool temperature.

I stay seated on the bed, my body not moving a single muscle. It had been so long since I last had that dream, since I had to experience that day all over again.

It was painful to think about; painful to relive. Everything I had known was lost that day. The people who were supposed to be with me the rest of my life were ripped away from me before I could even make memories with them that I could remember. The ones that you could look back on with a smile on your face. The only thing I had to remember was death.

Dragging my hands down my face, I rub my eyes until white spots form behind my eyelids, desperately trying to get the image of blood out of my head. Glancing over at the nightstand, the bright numbers of the clock illuminate the pitch black room.

2:17 a.m.

My head falls back onto my neck, eyes drooping closed. I wasn't tired, far from it actually. But mentally, I was exhausted, ready to collapse any second.

His voice still rang in my ear. The way he sounded, the fear and panic in his voice. It was all I could hear for so much of my childhood. That is until I learned to repress it enough that I had nearly forgotten.

But that night, it still lingered in my subconscious. Lurking in the shadows of my brain menacingly. Waiting for the right time to present itself once again, opening a flood of memories, drowning me in them until I couldn't breathe anymore and simply collapsed.

There wasn't much I remember about that night. It was so long ago and I hopelessly wanted to forget it. The screams, the crying, the sounds; all of it. I wanted it gone.

Inhaling shakily, I push myself off of the mattress. A shiver courses down my spine and I snatch the zip up jacket from the chair by the makeup desk, pulling it onto my body. Walking over to the door, I turn the knob slowly, trying to remain as quiet as possible.