funny, you’re the broken one, but i’m the only one who needed saving. ‘cause when you never see the light, it’s hard to know which one of us is caving.

Surely the screaming could be heard from the other side of the palace. It was heart-wrenching—long and loud and utterly, utterly broken. In between the piercing shrieks were tiny, broken little sobs that sounded a little bit like a name—Sully. Sully. Wendy Callaghan’s bedroom had been overturned completely, books torn and scattered on the floor and a scattering of broken glass where the fragments of mirror had fallen. The bedding had been torn from the mattress and was currently draped over the weeping form of the girl on the floor. She was on her knees, curled around herself with her forehead touching the floor as she wept. Small hands clutched at the bedding, the carpet, her hair—anything they could cling onto and tear at.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment she’d broken. She’d always been a silly little fragile thing, right from birth. Shattered by a stray harsh word or a slap, undone by death and completely torn apart by her own mind. Is a person born with the capacity for insanity or does the world inflict it? It was a question that had always hounded Wendy, when the world looked dark and her only friend was the bottle. Voices in her head and scars on her skin and so many, many dead boys.

No, the time couldn’t be chosen, not exactly. There’d been so many offences, so many opportunities for a fragile mind to bend and break. Her parents had thought Versailles would snap Wendy back into place, shake her back into the subservient little girl she used to be. But the palace made the voices louder, the cuts deeper, the hurts harsher. Wendy had snapped like a spinal cord in a car crash. And it had hurt so much. She’d spiralled so far she wasn’t even visibly insane, not anymore. She could laugh and joke and act like the happily expectant mother, but under the surface Wendy wasn’t there any more. Whatever had made her the person she was died with Sullivan. 

Maybe that was when she’d truly broken. Maybe she’d lived—her spark had survived—through childhood beatings and the constant press of perfectionism on her shoulders and losing the love of her life and going down, down, down into the darkness that had welcomed her so readily. Maybe she’d survived all that. She’d even survived Sullivan dying, because her broken mind had twisted that too—no please he’s coming back right he’s coming back he promised he wouldn’t leave didn’t he he’ll come back like the others did—

She’d finally realised he would never come back to her through a vision. It always came back to her power. Everything did. And though she’d tried to suppress it, to push it away from her, it always came back. After shoving away her visions for so many months, this particular one hit with a vengeance. At this moment, she could barely remember what the vision had been about, but she’d seen grassy hills and the sun and a tall white castle. And Amber. She remembered Amber. Older and world-worn, but still the beautiful woman Wendy knew. Sadness had etched lines into her face, and somehow that was what told Wendy. 

Sullivan Hornbrook truly was gone.

She awoken from the vision slumped over her writing desk, and immediately it had hit her. Dead dead dead gone— From that point, it was blurry. Smashing sounds and tearing pages and maybe breaking the window—she wasn’t sure—all she knew was that now she was a quivering heap on the floor and—she cried out again. Sharper, this time, agonisingly ripping from her throat. Her hands flew to her stomach as she sat up on her knees, cheeks red and wet and hair plastered to her. Her hand went to her mouth and she bit down on her fingers as another ripping sensation tore through her.

Maxwell? It’s too soon—! A coughing cry escaped her throat as she scrambled to her feet, shrieking as the pain tore through her again. No no no, my baby! Her head was suddenly shrieking, agonisingly crystal clear and she knew what she had to do. Hospital. They’ll fix it. Stumbling towards the door, one arm wrapped around her middle, she flung it open and tried as best she could to stay upright with the pain in her abdomen coursing through her. She kept one hand on the wall as she stumbled along, trying to ignore what was happening. 

She could feel something wet, warm and sticky flooding down her leg, and when she touched her thigh her fingers came away sickly red. Clapping her other hand to her mouth, Wendy tried desperately hard not to vomit, instead focusing all her energies on making it to the wing designated as the hospital ward. She could not lose the only part of Sullivan she had left.

She rounded a corner and caught the eye of a guard standing at a doorway, who saw her pale face and a flash of blood on the floor and ran straight to her. “Princess? Wendy?“ Eyes rolling back into her head, Wendy collapsed backwards, her head hitting the floor with a sharp smack.

The days were catching up to Arabella, and after the other night she had to reevaluate a bunch of things before making a steady decision, and to be honest she just needed a sign to let he know that it would be okay, that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to leave. The halls where pretty cold, so she hugged her sweater closer and spotted someone from the far end of the hall fall; instantly she stopped and giggled a bit, that was not the sign she was going for, but as she started walking again she recognized the figure: Wendy. Arabella started running towards the girl and the guard, “Wendy!” she screamed, she crouched down and tried to move the girl a bit before she noticed the blood, she was too feeble, something was up. The guard picked her up and they rushed to the Hospital Wing. Once there the nurses took over, but Ari didn’t even detach herself from her friend’s side. She asked for a sign, this was definitely not what she meant.

The world swam back into focus, a sharp shock of shouting and pain and red hair. Wendy moved almost as if underwater, hand struggling to rise and touch the swollen skin of her stomach. Had she made it to the hospital? She supposed she must have: she was lying down and people in scrubs were running about and shouting orders. Wendy just wanted to sleep. She tried to tell them so, but the words stuck in her throat. All she could feel were sharp jabs at the crease of her elbow and the back of her hand as the doctors roughly pushed the drips into her, desperately trying to save her. She caught words from the doctor hovering above her.

“Haemorrhage… bleeding out… baby… gone…”

A deep wracking cough overtook Wendy and her head flopped back to hit the pillow, too weak to hold up her own head. Her head was spinning and her every nerve was screaming, but through it all she felt a small, cool hand slip into hers, and she knew that her best friend was beside her. Always beside her. She coughed once more, feeling a ripping in her chest from the exertion on her fragile body and the wetness of blood on her lip. She heard a deep sob from the redhead next to her, but it all felt so far away now. She tried to swallow back the blood rising up her throat, but choked, the crimson liquid spilling out and over her chin.

Her weak fingers tightened around Ari’s hand and she heard the breath rattle through her own lungs. Everything was fading, her eyes losing the sight of the room, but she wasn’t scared. After everything, after all she’d been through, she wasn’t scared. Wendy had never believed in Heaven, but she was starting to. 

Ben and Sullivan and her baby.

She turned her head, using the last vestiges of strength, and smiled in Ari’s direction. There were still doctors screaming and Ari sobbing and maybe Wendy was still crying too. But she couldn’t feel it—it didn’t matter any more. Her fingers squeezed briefly at Ari’s hand, and then she went still. Her eyes fluttered shut and she drew her last breath.

Gone.

samuel-worthington:

 

[ He smirked, nudging her. ] No I won’t. Promise. [ He nodded quietly and looked away for a brief moment. ] I do. Worry about myself too, I mean. But Amber’s more important to me than I am, okay? She’s more important than anything right now. I want to keep her safe. And if that means…not thinking about myself for awhile, then it’s fine. I don’t care. [ He shot her a grin. ] I have a right to be.

{ She grins. } I think you’d suit chubby. Like a bunny. { She reaches out to poke his cheek softly. } Good. Well—not good, but—adequate. I worry about you. { She grins back. } Then I suppose I’m in for a treat. I’ll be suitably excited.

samuel-worthington:

 

That doesn’t sound like the full truth.

Well… it’s… bittersweet.