Happy Halloween to all my peeps!
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Every night in the dark, she sits there, a single mushroom lamp providing a flickering light, a dull green that barely reaches beyond her. She sits under it, picking up the diary, putting it down, and stuck in a loop. She doesn’t want to read any more than she has to. She knows this is wrong, but she can’t help it.
When she reads it, she feels like she can hear Anne, sitting next to her, recounting all her adventures with an excited glint in her eyes. Her realising how much these frogs mean to her and rambling on and on about them. She talks about them too, about how much she misses them. It’s almost like she’s right here with her.
But the more she reads, the more she realises that she never really knew Anne. No, she did, but she chose to look at her with how she perceived her to be, not how she was.
Sometimes, reading her diary is all that can get her to sleep. She’s too paranoid to let her guard down; the diary calms her a bit, makes her feel like her girl is beside her, right there.
And somewhere in her head, she mourns Marcy, mourns her raven-haired friend for the fact that she’s alive, but there’s nothing she can do to help. But it never surfaces first.
The first face is always the brunette.
And as she stands before the monster that wears her face, she realises she’d never given her first place.
Sleep is a luxury she can’t seem to afford these days since most of them are spent researching a way to get back to Amphibia. She’s getting more desperate by the day.
Andrias’s invasion could begin any moment. The Plantars weren’t going to be able to survive in her world for much longer, and even if, by some miracle, they do, she doubts the authorities will let them roam free.
But there’s another reason, one she won’t let herself dwell on for too long.
Yet, it’s her first thought every time she sees a mall. Every time she looks into Marcy’s journal, she can practically hear the jet-haired girl’s voice. And the echoes of Marcy’s voice remind her how much she’s lost.
So, she puts on a brave face and faces every day with a glimmering, albeit dwindling, source of hope.
Every little clue matters.
Which is why she’s memorised Marcy’s journal. It’s why she knows every thought of Marcy’s, everything from what she thought about her and Sasha to drawings and sketches of them. From amphibia’s species based caste system to indigenous fauna. It’s why she still goes through it every night.
She doesn’t do it because she wants to know why Marcy wanted to stay in Amphibia so bad. She doesn’t do it because she wonders how badly she had to have messed up to miss it. She doesn’t do it because she misses her.
She watches, horrified, at the monster who wears her friend’s face slashing at Sasha’s eye. She realises that the person she prayed would come back to her died a long time ago.
Even though her body has healed, she can still feel the pain. It’s usually a dull ache, but it turns into a sharp pain if she used to refuse to comply. Or she could before it took over. Now, she’s just a voice, that tiny part in her head that wanted out at one point, but now just stands by and watches, no matter how much it hurts.
She doesn’t have a choice.
And she has no one to blame but herself. She’s the one who gave up control.
So, she watches as her body moves, a blur, fast in a way she never was. She knows the blonde and brunette are important to her, but she can’t place who they are. She can’t remember their names no matter how hard she tries.
Maybe it’s the horror that breaks its control. She opens her eyes, the pain back, her chest feeling as if she’d been stabbed. It isn’t gone, but at least it’s not in control for now.
She remembers their names as she stares at the blood, unable to move.
Blood flows down Sasha’s eye, and though the girl is still standing, she’s heaving as Anne covers her. She’s going to die like this.
She feels something slam against her head as she reaches forward to help. Anne draws her sword back, tears streaming down her face.
Darkness closes in as she falls, and she realises she’s lost them for good.
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