Once, there was an island.... // MPHFPC one shots, imagines, and misc !

Through The Valley { Bronwyn Bruntley}

Wyn's always reminded me of Ellie Williams, ever so slightly... yikes. also can u tell TLOU2 is one of my favorite games ever, w/ the apoc! chapter being inspired by it and now this?? wowza
CW for blood n death :starry eyed: //

Surely goodness and mercy will follow me, all the days of my life...

Bronwyn couldn't feel her fingers.

Emma held tight to her shoulders as the others shoved past them, racing across the lawn in the early morning light. Claire and Olive clung to her nightdress, shaking in the cold air. Something had gotten to her brother. Something had gotten to Victor.

Miss Peregrine was talking to Enoch, the younger boy digging through a medpack with little regard for what she was saying. Beside him, Millard and Horace pressed towels to Victors chest, panic brewing in both their silhouettes. Hugh and Fiona were holding him up. Their hands were slick with crimson. Emma was saying something, but Bronwyn couldn't hear her. Her ears were muted with the roar of rushing blood.

This wasn't real. This couldn't possibly be real. 

This was all wrong.

Very, very wrong.

In the days following, she wasn't allowed to see him. Enoch locked himself in Victors room, keeping her brother alive to the best of his abilities. He wasn't a doctor, but he was the closest they've got, and he wouldn't let anyone else do it. Bronwyn begged him to let her see her brother, to let her stay by his side.

Enoch refused every time.

So she wandered the halls like a ghost. Worry tugged at her features and clawed through her insides. Bronwyn felt like death, and judging by the endless silence from behind the closed door, Victor did too.

It was a painful couple weeks. At night, he would cry out, and a clatter in the hallway would soon follow. Enoch rushing to double check the bandages, or Horace going to sit beside him for a time. Victor had nightmares, nearly every night. And he always woke up because of them.
Bronwyn sat outside his door on better days, dread settling into her bones whenever Enoch came out and shook his head. He wasn't getting better. He wasn't going to get better.

She didn't realize how badly this cloud of inevitability was effecting everyone else until one particular night at dinner, when the first signs of spring were showing outside the loop. Meals had been quiet, suffocated in a weary silence. Everyone knew what was coming, what was hovering just beyond the horizon. Nobody wanted to accept it. But it had to be acknowledged.

Miss Peregrine cleared her throat, and nine pairs of tired eyes turned their attention to her. Exhaustion had etched itself deep into her features, and all Bronwyn could think about was how unlike herself she seemed.

" Children," She began. A new wave of dread tore through Wyn. " I know you love this place. This house, these woods. I know how much you adore Cairnholm. It's served us well—"

" I don't want to leave." Claire interrupted, then clapped both hands over her mouth.

Miss Peregrine smiled at her, sadness flooding her expression. " I know you don't, my dear. Neither do I. But this island, with Victor..."