The news that truly shocks is the empty, empty page, while the final rattle rocks its empty, empty cage.

"If something happened to you..."

"I couldn't survive that."

I jolt awake, a moan escaping my lips. It's dark and I'm alone, my chest still throbbing dully from the healing wounds. Clenching the covers closer to my body, I ignore the pain and the hunger gnawing at my gut and attempt to fall back into unconsciousness. There's a sharp jab in my head, at my thoughts. The feeling of someone trying to reach me. Having barely enough energy to fight off the feeling, I turn my face into the pillow, crying out as I paw at my skull like a bee-stung dog. "Get out, please. Leave me alone." My words are quiet and muffled. I turn my ear to the door, hoping Tommy didn't hear me stirring from down the stairs. I squeeze my eyes shut and feel around on the mattress. There's nothing but rumpled sheets and a comforter. Growing panicked, I resist the urge to call out for help. I reach carefully over the side of the bed, hesitant, as if something from underneath could grab at my searching hand. My fingers scrabble at the wooden floor until they touch soft fabric. I sigh in relief as I bring the shirt up onto the bed with me, rubbing it against my cheek and breathing in the faint scent from the cloth. Smiling slightly, I turn to face the wall and squeeze my eyes shut against the flow of tears.

"You know, the more I love you, the more I grow terrified of when you actually leave me."

A phone rings in the dark room, unheard by the restless figure tangled in the sheets. Madelyn's hand stretches out to grasp at thin air, and she sobs aloud in her slumber. As the phone reaches its last ring, the bedroom door opens and a block of light illuminates the room. Thomas enters, his eyes showing concern in an otherwise stoic visage. He reaches down to carefully adjust the tangled blankets, disregarding the Malkavian's pained moan at his touch. Madelyn remains asleep, face pressed into a pillow already stained red with her tears. Thomas retrieves her cell phone from the nightstand, turning off the device and stowing it in his pocket. He leaves the room with one last pitying glance at his ward.

"I will always be here for you, for as long as I am in existence...please always know that, Madelyn. I will never willingly leave you forever. Death is the only thing that's going to keep me away.."

For the fourth, fifth, or possibly only the first time this week, I'm awoken by the sound of my own shrieks. I feel a slight sting as a bullet hole in my shoulder knits itself closed, and my mouth grows parched with hunger. Clawing at the sheets, I howl Alex's name, over and over. I hear the door open, and Tommy speaking in a calming tone, even over my own screams. I swipe at the priest, pushing him away as he draws near my bed. Tommy holds his stance, even as I fight him like a wild animal. With a long suffering expression, he pulls out a small pocket knife and slices a gash into his own flesh. Desperate and starved, I grab at his arm and latch onto the wound, drawing his sustenance into myself. As I drink, he seats himself on the mattress and I crawl into his lap. Refusing to look into his eyes, I sate my hunger, curling against him and staring blankly at the wall. Alex's face stares back at me, everywhere I look.

"I wish so badly that we could be normal...somewhat normal. Normal for us...like, if I thought we wouldn't burn the white pickets down, I'd love to live that stupid suburb life with you."

The lights twinkle in the trees and laughter trails over from one of the tables. Alex and I spin under the stars, and I can't help but giggle as he trips on the train of my dress. I kiss him lightly, "Just let me lead, k?" He scowls at me, "Ugh. Dancing, suits...can't we just spend the wedding reception playing Sonic?" My giggle turns into a full laugh, and his returned smile spreads warmth throughout my chest. 

Another night, and my chest is on fire, even after Tommy pulls my hand away. My claws are dripping with gore, the color matching the furrows in my flesh. He alerts me that it's time for another bath, ignoring my steady weeping and half-hearted struggles as he lifts me into his arms. He takes me to the bathroom, setting me on the toilet as he fills the tub, just like the night he called me home. Removing my dirty and torn clothing, Tommy places me in the water, retrieving a washcloth and cleaning me as I cry. The routine brings me little comfort. My fingers creep back up to my chest, scratching at the flesh, attempting to reach the root of my pain. He swats my hand away, almost absently, and I stare up him with begging eyes.

"Tommy. You can bring him back, right? Like you did with me? You can bring Alex back like you brought me back...."

Pressing my hands against my temples, I don't hear his answer, the agony from speaking of Alex's demise aloud forcing my thoughts far away, to a quieter place.

https://youtu.be/gYJwYjanCRQ