A/N: Make sure you've read the RECAP if you haven't already._____________________________________
Chapter 35: Fine and Dandy
The noise ceased.
The buzz stilled.
The tick and the tock stopped.
Everything was fine.
All fine and dandy.
Like a simple breeze on a simple day, where the warmth of the sun wraps around the skin and a feeling of happiness emerge in a form of a smile, eyes crinkling against the bright rays which fall like a gift from above, illuminating the surface with its precious light, falling and falling and falling until it starts to burn and it starts to hurt as it morphs into tiny, heated spears and arrows that rain down with cruel brutality.
And then it becomes too much. Too hot. And the skin starts to roast. Starts to scorch. And the flesh slowly boils and melts and there's no place to hide, no way to cool except for the wind which mocks and whistles and teases its chilly breeze only for it to be not enough. And that warmth becomes a violent grip, constraining, clinging and invading what little space was left.
All fine and dandy.
Like walking in a field of grass where flowers--daises and dandelions--stretch beyond the waves of green, expanding and littering its roots deep inside the soil. Its faces varies and are many, growing and reaching towards the sun, and it's peaceful, the way it sways gently with the wind. It does nothing but live.
But it's a weed--invasive--and it competes for life, draining resources from the native residents and scourging lands to make it its own. It destorys. It steals. It consumes.
So it's removed. And it's destroyed.
Extirpated.
Pulled out from its roots, burned with liquids until it withers and shrivels into a curled up, black waste, like a burnt out match, and it's eliminated from the ground.
But it's stubborn. And it grows back.
Because it wants to live. Just like the rest of them.
Just like people.
But they'll die, either way.
Fall and die, burn and die, break and die.
But only to me.
They're dead to me.
The liars, the cowards, the fearful, and the deceivers.
But that's all fine and dandy.
Because just as Audrey promised, she didn't leave.
Of course she didn't.
Why would she?
I've done nothing wrong.
And when she read that one dark stain of my past--the enactment of destroying and taking, the word I find suffocating to say, to admit, constricting my throat and tightening my chest, making my head spin and my mouth to dry and crumble--she looked at me as though she finally understood.
The oddest part was, she didn't seem surprised. No paleness of the face, no shock, no fear--only the quiet wrinkling of the paper as she placed the thin and frail paper down gently and motioned me to come forward.
So I did.
But then I couldn't.
I was shaking. My hands trembled at the memories rushing into my skull and the image of my father, of the little girl who died from his blade, tormented my mind and the noises buzzed and the clock ticked and I wanted to tear into my arm because the itch of blood drying and worming into my skin plagued me to no end.
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