love is just a way to { d i e } // carey sisters
Jul 9, 2014 16:26:38 GMT -5
Post by Stare on Jul 9, 2014 16:26:38 GMT -5
“i miss you” would be understated
memories have slowly faded
the love you sacrificed
was just another way to die
memories have slowly faded
the love you sacrificed
was just another way to die
They return her to us in a simple wooden box.
As they unload it from the train I want nothing more than to launch myself at them and tear my nails through their skin, to scream so loudly that my voice will echo in their ears for days. Savannah left us full of life and light and a fighting spirit that actually fooled me into believing she might make it. How dare they return her to us like this, like a toy they abused and then tossed back once they became bored with her? Instead of lashing out, though, I shrink back as they set the box on the ground, hiding in the shadows so they won’t see me and try to return the corpse to me directly. I gave them directions to the graveyard. Someone - I’m not entirely sure who - has already dug a hole for the body. We couldn’t afford a real coffin, so the box will have to do.
One of them pulls back the lid, checking on the body inside. My breath catches in my throat and I turn my face away, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen her, her skin far too pale and blue lips parted slightly, her right shoulder covered with a simple black sleeve to hide the damage done and all that she lost in the hell they forced her into. I forced myself to avoid the bottle today and I am now sorely regretting it. My stomach lurches sharply and I brace one hand against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut. A few tears leak out anyway.
Damn them. They didn’t even return her whole.
By the time I finally regain my senses and manage to make my way to the cemetery the box is already there, as well as all of my living sisters. Lucy clutches the teddy bear Soap returned. At the thought of the Victor with his wide eyes full of both pity and pain my chest clenches painfully and I turn my gaze away. The formal funeral isn’t for a half hour but people have already started to gather, drawn to the unjust death like moths to a flame. Some of them I recognize as Savannah’s old friends, but many are strangers to me. Most probably come simply because she was a tribute. Again I feel a flash of violence, the urge to scream that despite what they think they didn’t know her, not really, and they have no right to be here. But then I see the dying flowers they carry, their slumped shoulders and dark expressions, and I realize that perhaps one did not need to know Savannah to mourn her. She was, after all, just a child. Anyone can cry for the death of a child.
When the funeral begins they pull back the lid and the knowledge that this is the last time she will ever see daylight hits me like a punch to the stomach. This was never how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to stay with us and protect us until Dad was no longer a threat. She was supposed to meet someone who would love her and all her scars, a fantastic romance that would forgive all her mischief and wrongdoing. She was supposed to walk down the aisle dressed in a simple white gown because really, she never did like anything overly formal. She would have glanced at me and made a teasing face.I was supposed to be an aunt, someday. She was supposed to grow old and crooked, with grandchildren who adored her and an undying rebellious spirit that accompanied her to her last breath. She was supposed to die on her own terms, at her own time.
Instead, she’s been slaughtered at the fragile age of eighteen.
“Oh, Sav,” I whisper, staring at her expressionless face. My tone is soft, only slightly chiding, just like it was when she would come home staggering with clouded eyes and a crooked smile on her face, triumphantly holding up cash that she got from Ripred knows where. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”
I am sixteen years old, wiping blood from a gash he left on her left cheekbone. She cringes away from the damp scrap of cloth but I hold her chin steady, biting my bottom lip. He was coming for me this time and I cowered in the corner, sobbing and terrified and calling for her. She’d come, just like she always does, and gotten in his way. I touch the cloth to the gash again and she sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth, jerking away. “Stop. Liv, just… just give me a second.”
I have to swallow hard to force back the tears. I won’t cry. Not in front of her. I bring the cloth back and dip it in the bucket of water at my side, not meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
There’s a pause, and I can hear the confusion in her voice. “For what?”
“For not being strong enough to face him on my own.”
She doesn’t answer for a long time, and I’m forced to raise my eyes to meet hers. Her expression is soft, almost curious, as she regards me. “Protecting you is my job, Liv. I’m not going to let him mess up that pretty face of yours.”
“But - “
“Stop.” She cuts me off firmly, frowning. The action causes more blood to ooze down her face. “I do a whole lot of things I’m not proud of, okay? But looking after you guys is a good thing, and I’m not going to quit for anything.” She smiles crookedly then. “Besides, I’m a fighter by nature. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have something to punch every now and then.” She leans forward and nudges me playfully. “I’m always going to be there for you, whether you like it or not.”
I sniffle a little, dropping my gaze back down to the bucket of water. “Always?”
“Always,” she repeatss firmly. “Forever and ever, until you’re sick and tired of me.”
“I have something to say,” I blurt out, surprising myself. Dozens of heads lift and turn toward me, and I get the feeling I interrupted something. Somehow, staring at my older sister’s dead body, I can’t bring myself to care.
I approach her slowly. She looks peaceful but that's wrong because she was never a peaceful person. She was violent and raw and brash in the very best way. Forever and ever. “She was beautiful,” I say after a moment. “And strong. And spunky. And funny, and loud, and brave, and instinctive, and smart, and protective.” Dead silence meets me, but I don’t turn around, too afraid of what I’ll see if I do. “She’s broken now, but that’s okay. I still love her.” I choke on the words, swiping at my face. “It was too soon,” I manage after a moment. “Just… it was too soon.”
And then I spin on my heels, shove my way through the crowd, and flee.
It doesn’t take me too long to find a nice, abandoned alley where I can curl up and cry. They’re loud, messy, body shaking sobs that leave me gasping for air and leaning heavily against the brick wall. Forever and ever. She promised. She promised. On instinct I lean back and lash out, my fist making contact with the wall. The pain in my fist is blinding and I feel blood pushing out through cuts on my knuckles, but the sense of release is blissful. A memory of Sav flashes through my mind. She used to shadow box, dancing lightly on her feet and striking at the wall. I suck in a deep breath, blinking away my tears, and draw back so I can strike the wall three more times. My hands begin to swell. Two more punches and I’m actually smiling. Five more and I’m laughing.
Savannah is dead, probably buried in the ground by now, but I’m laughing anyway.
I fall back against the wall and drag my hand through my hair, feeling freedom for the first time since Willis Keeni struck down my sister. I’ve finally found a way to be in control. I’ve found a way to step up and take charge, just like Sav always did. And, for the first time in ages, I know.
We’re going to be okay.
As they unload it from the train I want nothing more than to launch myself at them and tear my nails through their skin, to scream so loudly that my voice will echo in their ears for days. Savannah left us full of life and light and a fighting spirit that actually fooled me into believing she might make it. How dare they return her to us like this, like a toy they abused and then tossed back once they became bored with her? Instead of lashing out, though, I shrink back as they set the box on the ground, hiding in the shadows so they won’t see me and try to return the corpse to me directly. I gave them directions to the graveyard. Someone - I’m not entirely sure who - has already dug a hole for the body. We couldn’t afford a real coffin, so the box will have to do.
One of them pulls back the lid, checking on the body inside. My breath catches in my throat and I turn my face away, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen her, her skin far too pale and blue lips parted slightly, her right shoulder covered with a simple black sleeve to hide the damage done and all that she lost in the hell they forced her into. I forced myself to avoid the bottle today and I am now sorely regretting it. My stomach lurches sharply and I brace one hand against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut. A few tears leak out anyway.
Damn them. They didn’t even return her whole.
By the time I finally regain my senses and manage to make my way to the cemetery the box is already there, as well as all of my living sisters. Lucy clutches the teddy bear Soap returned. At the thought of the Victor with his wide eyes full of both pity and pain my chest clenches painfully and I turn my gaze away. The formal funeral isn’t for a half hour but people have already started to gather, drawn to the unjust death like moths to a flame. Some of them I recognize as Savannah’s old friends, but many are strangers to me. Most probably come simply because she was a tribute. Again I feel a flash of violence, the urge to scream that despite what they think they didn’t know her, not really, and they have no right to be here. But then I see the dying flowers they carry, their slumped shoulders and dark expressions, and I realize that perhaps one did not need to know Savannah to mourn her. She was, after all, just a child. Anyone can cry for the death of a child.
When the funeral begins they pull back the lid and the knowledge that this is the last time she will ever see daylight hits me like a punch to the stomach. This was never how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to stay with us and protect us until Dad was no longer a threat. She was supposed to meet someone who would love her and all her scars, a fantastic romance that would forgive all her mischief and wrongdoing. She was supposed to walk down the aisle dressed in a simple white gown because really, she never did like anything overly formal. She would have glanced at me and made a teasing face.I was supposed to be an aunt, someday. She was supposed to grow old and crooked, with grandchildren who adored her and an undying rebellious spirit that accompanied her to her last breath. She was supposed to die on her own terms, at her own time.
Instead, she’s been slaughtered at the fragile age of eighteen.
“Oh, Sav,” I whisper, staring at her expressionless face. My tone is soft, only slightly chiding, just like it was when she would come home staggering with clouded eyes and a crooked smile on her face, triumphantly holding up cash that she got from Ripred knows where. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”
I am sixteen years old, wiping blood from a gash he left on her left cheekbone. She cringes away from the damp scrap of cloth but I hold her chin steady, biting my bottom lip. He was coming for me this time and I cowered in the corner, sobbing and terrified and calling for her. She’d come, just like she always does, and gotten in his way. I touch the cloth to the gash again and she sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth, jerking away. “Stop. Liv, just… just give me a second.”
I have to swallow hard to force back the tears. I won’t cry. Not in front of her. I bring the cloth back and dip it in the bucket of water at my side, not meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
There’s a pause, and I can hear the confusion in her voice. “For what?”
“For not being strong enough to face him on my own.”
She doesn’t answer for a long time, and I’m forced to raise my eyes to meet hers. Her expression is soft, almost curious, as she regards me. “Protecting you is my job, Liv. I’m not going to let him mess up that pretty face of yours.”
“But - “
“Stop.” She cuts me off firmly, frowning. The action causes more blood to ooze down her face. “I do a whole lot of things I’m not proud of, okay? But looking after you guys is a good thing, and I’m not going to quit for anything.” She smiles crookedly then. “Besides, I’m a fighter by nature. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have something to punch every now and then.” She leans forward and nudges me playfully. “I’m always going to be there for you, whether you like it or not.”
I sniffle a little, dropping my gaze back down to the bucket of water. “Always?”
“Always,” she repeatss firmly. “Forever and ever, until you’re sick and tired of me.”
“I have something to say,” I blurt out, surprising myself. Dozens of heads lift and turn toward me, and I get the feeling I interrupted something. Somehow, staring at my older sister’s dead body, I can’t bring myself to care.
I approach her slowly. She looks peaceful but that's wrong because she was never a peaceful person. She was violent and raw and brash in the very best way. Forever and ever. “She was beautiful,” I say after a moment. “And strong. And spunky. And funny, and loud, and brave, and instinctive, and smart, and protective.” Dead silence meets me, but I don’t turn around, too afraid of what I’ll see if I do. “She’s broken now, but that’s okay. I still love her.” I choke on the words, swiping at my face. “It was too soon,” I manage after a moment. “Just… it was too soon.”
And then I spin on my heels, shove my way through the crowd, and flee.
It doesn’t take me too long to find a nice, abandoned alley where I can curl up and cry. They’re loud, messy, body shaking sobs that leave me gasping for air and leaning heavily against the brick wall. Forever and ever. She promised. She promised. On instinct I lean back and lash out, my fist making contact with the wall. The pain in my fist is blinding and I feel blood pushing out through cuts on my knuckles, but the sense of release is blissful. A memory of Sav flashes through my mind. She used to shadow box, dancing lightly on her feet and striking at the wall. I suck in a deep breath, blinking away my tears, and draw back so I can strike the wall three more times. My hands begin to swell. Two more punches and I’m actually smiling. Five more and I’m laughing.
Savannah is dead, probably buried in the ground by now, but I’m laughing anyway.
I fall back against the wall and drag my hand through my hair, feeling freedom for the first time since Willis Keeni struck down my sister. I’ve finally found a way to be in control. I’ve found a way to step up and take charge, just like Sav always did. And, for the first time in ages, I know.
We’re going to be okay.
if heaven is a place you'll go
i don't know if i will ever see you
and if you leave before you know
i'll let go of all we've ever been through
i don't know if i will ever see you
and if you leave before you know
i'll let go of all we've ever been through