Sonjia lies on the clean worn floor of the living room, her life seeping from the bullet hole in her chest. Somehow, she is aware that the bullet is lodged and thus her life forfeit. There isn’t a healer for miles that possesses either the know how or the equipment to remove it from her chest cavity safely. Her mother, Lucy would have been her best bet but she been kidnapped at gun point by men who want the knowledge in her head, the designs for her portable water filtration system. Sonjia groans as the weight of knowing that her mother’s cleverness is the very reason their town is being raided settles on her spirit.
Dying is harder than she thought it would be. There is more time to think, regret, take stock then she would like. She cycles through the usual wishes of having been better, nicer, truer to both her mother and Mari. Her limited view of the floor and stubbed legs of the ugly couch that she used to sleep on blurs with agony as she pictures her willful, stubborn, wonderful little sister now out there in this poisoned world alone.
“Please come, please. Set me free of this misery,” she begs of the Grim Reaper, willing him with all that she has left to release her.
A warm hand clasps the shoulder pointed to the ceiling and the other slides behind her head sinking into her hair, cradling the bones of her skull. Her life is making its final march across her nerves setting them each and every one atingle. Smooth lips kiss her temple and humid air warms her ear as he whispers, “I can give you what you want or save you. What would you have me do?”
Tears prick and trickle from the crusted corners of her eyes. She didn’t expect the Grim to be so kind, so gentle.
He turns her, cradling her in his lap and if she could laugh she would, because only in this world would the Grim take the shape of the boy she knows she already loves but can now never have and is strangely relieved that the Grim is showing some cruelty.
“I can save you, but you mustn’t do it for me, because…” he trails off, reluctant.
“Because we can never be,” she says closing her eyes letting fate take the reins. She is so very tired, of fighting, of keeping it together, of being. As she lets go she leaves behind in his arms nothing more than a façade, a mere shell of who she was, who she could have been.
Previous Entries to this Darkening Tale: When We Miss (1), Grin and Grind (2), Industrial Blue (3), Sugar Plum Fairies (4),Gently, Gently (5), Spiderlings (6), Tiles (7).
Inspired by Write at the Merges Smash-Up of: La Douleur Exquise (French): The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have, an dthe picture below.
Bancroft Tower, Worcester, MA, courtesy of Hillarie Jason via Esty.
Whispatory 
My heart is broken and my own tears are falling. A touching and torturous scene Jennifer, but I am hoping for a happy outcome…
Your writing is so breathtaking-you leave in in awe every time!
See Jennifer-you left me so awestruck I couldn’t even comment coherently! 😉
Aw, Valerie. Thank you so much, I love our mutual admiration society because I feel much the same way about your amazing talent as well.
I’m bummed, but that was such a sweet scene. The Grim Reaper’s interaction with her was almost comforting. Great job.
I was not expecting this from the Grim Reaper! How exquisitely, painfully beautiful. And beautifully written.
Poor Sonjia. I hope she can finally be at peace. She had so much opposition from circumstance, even in her death. (Your writing is lovely, as always.)
I so wanted him to save her, just because. I like her relief at the touch of cruelty in the Grim.
Nicely done. I thought the first paragraph was a bit awkward to read, but that could be because it’s 2am and my contacts are going walkabout. I love how you incorporated the prompt into the story, and I’ll echo the sentiment that your portrayal of Grim was warm and gentle, and provided an positive note in a very emotional scene. Excellent!
That Grim Reaper, ever the trickster. I would have liked a little more fight in Sonja, but that’s projection on my part. I can understand being tired, and the need for peace. Great story!
Beautiful as always. It drew me in. I was sad and hoping that perhaps the Grim Reaper was really the boy there to save her. I need to read the past parts because last week’s was the first I’ve read.
Maybe he was! Boom.
Man, Jennifer. You are killing me. It’s the beautiful boy from the balloons, though, isn’t it? She’s delirious from pain and dying, but it’s the boy, right? And he could save her but if she lived they’d never be together?
Not that I’m invested or anything…
Winning! I’m glad you are invested and all I can say is maybeeee…