She had dragged herself from her dead sisters quarters about a day ago. Since then, she had been curled up in her bed, torturing herself with memories. That was how she coped. One day, the memories would hurt less - she hoped.
However, she had also been planning her next move. There was no way she was staying here any longer. The only reason she had come was because of Wendy and Meghan. Now both were gone. She was alone.
Becca rolled over in her jumble of sheets, grabbing her phone from the nightstand, discarding all the messages crowding her screen. She needed one number and one number alone.
Elise.
She hit the contact as soon as she found it, a silent prayer lifting to the heavens that she would answer. This might be her only escape.
"Sexybex. I knew you'd call." The silken voice cooed through the end of the phone. The slightest of smiles ghosted her lips at the voice. "You still got a place for me?" The teen inquired, an eyebrow arching. "Only if you promise not to ditch again." Oh, she wouldn't. Not after everything. Ireland was calling her name.
"Throw in a couple grams and I might stay." She replied, feeling the strong urge for a joint. That was how she coped last time. Drugs, alcohol, the occasional hookup. It was all distracting and that's what she needed.
"Up to your old tricks, eh? I'm sure Isaac will love that." The fellow teen retorted. "Get your ass back here, Callaghan and quickly. We're leaving again soon."
[Sven was walking through the corridors, looking in various rooms for a sign of life, someone to talk to, something to cling to in the face of all these changes. Eventually he passed a room with a small child in it; he could recognize her just barely from previous encounters.] Becca! How are you?
[Her head shot up at the voice, her book shutting reflexively. She relaxed after she realized who it was, her mouth twitching as if she were going to smile] I'm fine, Sven. What are you doing here?
[ She was walking by the room in silence, not quite wanting to look in, but didn’t fail to see the girl, and paused. ] Hey. You shouldn’t be in here, you know.
baby close your eyes, don't open them until the morning light.
“What are you even naming it?” The teen wondered aloud, breaking the air of silence in the bedroom the sisters were currently residing in. The two were exhausted, both not getting much sleep in a castle with tainted memories. Somehow they had ended up on Becca’s bed, both sets of light eyes fixated on her ceiling. “Will you stop calling it an ‘it’?” Wendy replied, swatting her sister playfully, a small smile on her lips. “Only if you tell me what you’re gonna name it.” Becca retorted, shifting over onto her stomach, her gaze moving to her sibling who was splayed out next to her. Though she had been hesitant at first about the baby situation, she had warmed up to the idea of a niece or nephew. “Maxwell,” She told her after a few moments, her head rolling to the side so she could look at the younger girl. “Or Aoife if it’s a girl.” Wendy added, giving her a small shrug. “Aoife sounds like a troll.” Becca responded, her nose wrinkling slightly at the thought. “Better hope it’s a boy then.” That got a laugh out of the youngest as she flopped over onto her back, returning to her original position.
“You’re going to be a good mum, Wendy. I promise.” Becca told her as the slipped back into a comfortable silence. She knew her sister didn’t believe so, that she would somehow screw up with all of this. But she knew better. Wendy would be a good mother, one that would make mistakes, yes but a good one nonetheless.
She wouldn't be. Wendy Callaghan would not be a mother, a sister, a daughter, she would be nothing. She was dead.
And it was if Becca Callaghan was too.
Her head rested back against the frigid door of the hospital wing, her fingers mindlessly playing with the necklace around her neck. She hadn't moved. Not since the doctors had explained what had happened to her sister. Hell, she hadn't even listened to half of what they said. She knew what the end result was - she was dead. And so was her nephew. Two for one.
An hour ago, the phrase would've brought her to tears but now it was just another passing thought.
She remembered this feeling, the pain of losing someone.
The funny thing was - you felt no pain.
It was if every emotion was sucked out of you, your body filled with what felt like lead. Heavy. Like it was filling your veins, spreading throughout your body.
A never-ending pain.
That was grief. A twisted way of healing. A wound that never scarred.
And in someway that was supposed to make you feel better - to mourn. Somehow you're supposed to let go of them, wake up one morning and be okay with the fact your sister was dead.
What was great was that she almost got to that point. She had almost reached the point where she could wake up in the mornings and not have Cadey on her mind. She could almost forget.
Now she was back at the start, her mind fresh with the sensation.
==
The youngest had subconsciously made her way to her sister's bedroom, her stormy eyes taking in the wreckage. A sob threatened to leave her at the sight. She wasn't sure if it was the tattered remains of the bedroom or the fact her sister would never be found here again.
All she did know was that she wanted to curl up in that bed, pretend like Wendy was just out for the night and wake up in the morning knowing this was all a bad dream.
"It's a bad dream, she'll come back." Becca repeated all the way into the bed, her tears staining her cheeks as she climbed under the sheets.
The girl curled up on her side, the blankets seeming scratchy against her skin, pillow uncomfortable beneath her head.
It all felt wrong.
And it was. It was wrong. Her sister should be lying here, asleep with her baby, at peace.
At that, the cry she had been drowning all night finally released, leaving her mouth involuntarily.
She couldn't stop it.
Every tear felt like a thousand, never ending. Every noise emitting from her resembling an infants scream.
It didn't stop.
The only way she fell asleep was because she had tired herself out. Her body weak from the fit, from the grief. However, she was glad she did.
At least now she had a shot at seeing her sister one last time. Even if it was only in her nightmares.
