⤷ ❛ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐊 ❜
IN WHICH . . .
francesca and joel realize that they
truly are meant to be - for better
or for worse, in life and in death.
THE LAST OF US,
joel miller, fem! oc
...
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THEN! ( September 27, 2003 ——– Gloucester, Massachusetts )
The rock dropped with a loud thud!
The dripping, thick blood splattered on the blades of grass, tainting the lush green with remnants of Juliette and Ian, connecting them in a way neither of them knew would end up being their fate.
Francesca's ribcage heaved, wracked with sobs that sounded and felt it would crush under such violent velocity a child's body wasn't made to endure. Juliette's face was gone and in its place was a mess of brain matter, shattered sickly white bone, and gelatinous clots of blood her daughter now wore on the freshly washed pajamas she had pulled out of the dryer for her to wear this evening. The little girl tasted the sharp metallic sting of her mother's blood on her tongue and felt the heaviness of her eyelashes coated by the same thick substance.
Her unstable legs felt heavy as they dragged across the grass and down to the edge of the dock. She curled herself into a ball, her knees pressed so tightly against her chest that it hurt as the wooden slabs underneath her rocked back and forth with the water's current.
She whimpered and clawed at her eyes to tear the images out of her head, but they had already rooted themselves there, just like the fungus had done with Ian; where they would grow and grow until all she could see and think about was the brutal act her small hands were capable of. The broken muttering cries of "mommy!" so tiny, so fragile, only the waves of the dark water lapping below her feet could hear.
The crescent shaped moon shone down bright onto Francesca, keeping her safe from the darkness. Her legs began to cramp and tense from the still position she couldn't gain courage to leave from. Tonight didn't feel real; she didn't understand any of it, but she knew it wasn't her mom and Ian. The quick instinct to pick up the rock and pound it down over and over again with both hands until her arms felt like they were going to fall off and her throat was raw seemed to crawl into her ear to unlock the natural will to survive that the human body had instilled in them. Her mother's words that told her to always trust her body echoed in her ringing ears as she kept lifting her head and looking back to make sure neither of them moved from where they lay mutilated.
"Is there someone there on the dock..?" A deep southern accent called out from behind her. The man's voice was shaky, unsure if he should make himself known as he'd been successfully undetected as of late but his gut was screaming at him to take that risk.
Frannie hadn't heard the splashing of wooden rows breaking through the ocean, the cries and screams that erupted from Gloucester and Rocky Neck echoed off the harbor waters, drowning it out completely. Her head was slow in its turn, her body ached and wailed and she was worried that if she moved too fast she would end up just like her mom.
