‘ never, ever, ever say die ‘
“ THEN WHAT SHOULD WE SAY ALICE ? “ Words cut through air like sharpened knives, her tongue forged into a weapon in which she couldn’t control. She’d watched houses burn, children cry as they’d been ripped from their mothers arms. Alice, even more so, she’d thought. How was it that this had become their life, how was it that they’d survived? That word alone leaving a sour taste within her mouth. They’d once praised her for it, called her a survivor for what she’d been through with Hades. However, was she truly a survivor, truly alive, if the insides of her had been rotting away slowly bur surely? “Everyone is dying.” Her vocals quiver, if only for a moment, a tenderness laces them as she shakes her head. Trauma wrought women who’d fought for a cause in which they’d believed, or in Mary’s sake, grown to believe. “Everyone is dying and there’s not a bloody damn thing we’ve done about it.” A lie, and yet one she’s begun to swallow whole. Had they not risked their lives? Every evening they’d stepped out of the boundaries and four walls that their sanctuary called home provided, they’d risked it being the last time in which they’d see one another. Alice, to Mary, was the only thing worth considering family, the only person she’d ever consider. Hands wring ‘round flannel shirt that flows between delicate digits. Faint stench of blood still apparent beneath her nose as she cranes her neck slightly to reach the gaze of the woman for the first time. “We’re all going to die, you know it as well as I.” Hope was futile, a fickle thing in which Mary had found she’d lived fine without. There was no hope, no retribution given to those who’d bruised and battle scarred them. “And I’ll be damned if you expect me to sit ‘round and watch it happen to you.” A once stiff upper lip now trembles as face falls, sadness radiating as sniffle breaks the silence. A cuff of her jacket wiping stray moisture away from her face. “I’m not going to watch you die. Not for this, not for them.” When the girls were younger, less battle worn and marred by scars inside as much as out, they’d been foolish enough to believe that they’d had a purpose. Now, however, those days seemed long ago enough that they’d belonged to someone else. Alice, as strong as she was tragic. Mary, a dull aching loneliness that swallowed her whole. They’d fallen so far, allowed themselves to be absorbed by shadows cast. Fingers outstretch behind her, searching for a solace in the warmth of the girls palm. Gently wrapping ‘round before she continues, unable to meet Alice’s glance any longer, she turns her head as if to mumble to herself. “I love you, Alice.”
