a violent yet flammable world ( closed )

[schnapp]

Who| beth greene + jane shepard +daryl dixon + nill + luke + nick, not necessarily at the same time
What| beth's MURDER CATCHALL. it's a clusterfuck.
Where| somewhere in the space port....
When| week 2
Warnings/Notes| death, gore, mentions of suicide/self-harm

Comments

[schnapp]

The pain fades, and that's almost frightening in itself. Pain is something she expected, the existence of pain simply makes sense, looking down at the horror show of her body right now. But it fades, and there's a sigh of relief that accompanies the odd fear. She thinks that the numbness means that she's dying faster. That she's running out of time.

She is running out of time.

"You have to promise me you'll take care of yourself. Promise."

[reassures]

"You're okay. I'm making it hurt less. Don't worry."

She doesn't want to make this any worse for Beth, but it's not like she can honestly make it all that much easier. She's still dying.

Nill's breath catches in her throat, and she squeezes her eyes together more tightly, drops her forehead onto her knees. Don't ask her that, Beth, please don't ask her to do that. Not you and Linden. She doesn't want to lie more than she has to, and she's gonna try her best but how can anyone ask her to take care of herself in a place like this? Please, please don't...

"I promise," she says, and the voice in Beth's head gives no indications of the tears on Nill's cheeks.

"What happened?"

tw: suicide, self-injury.

[schnapp]

"Thank you," she tells her, and every word is punctuated with gratitude. She's dying and it means that her thoughts are everywhere, dwelling on things that she normally would do her best to shut out, thoughts she'd never outwardly reveal if she had a choice. But she doesn't. Not when her mind is so open like this, the floodgates unrestrained since she's too weak to hold them back.

She's remembering herself in her bathroom with the shattered pieces of mirror around her, the momentary bite of pain as she stood there clutching her bleeding wrist. Cutting so deep that she'd need stitches, deep enough to leave thick scars on the expanse of her skin. Maggie pounding on the door, pleading with her to come out - I'm not mad, please just open the door, please-- and the old dull sensation of watching her mother shamble out of that barn, rotting and nearly unrecognizable. The overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that had followed. I don't want to be gutted. I want go, in my bed, tonight.

But she remembers other things, too. The tiny ladybug that had perched on her finger in the woods. Judith's happy gurgles. Daryl carrying her into the kitchen of that funeral home. Spending time out in the garden with her father - all of these tiny bright spots amongst all the terrible memories that make enduring what she had worth it.

Beth thinks,

I don't wanna die, I don't.

That had been a revelation to her, once. But it isn't any more.

[reassures]

It kills Nill that she can't get up and go find her. That she can't actually hold her hand and be there, instead of just some voice in Beth's head that later she might not even think was real. But if she were to get up and try to find her, Beth might die while she was trying to find her. This was better.

Even so, Nill is in her head now. She can do a lot, and though most of those things she would never, ever do, especially not to Beth, there was one tiny thing she might be able to do.

If Beth opens her eyes to actually look she won't see anyone there, but it should feel like someone's holding her hand.

"I know," Nill tells her, and she tries to make it sound reassuring, to sound like anything except what she actually feels right now. "It's okay. We'll see each other again. I might just get there a little late."

[schnapp]

It's enough. Just having someone here is enough. Not dying alone -- she's grateful for that. Nill holds her hand, and while Beth understands that it can't possibly be real, she's grateful anyway. Maybe it's just something conjured up by a desperate mind, or it's something the other girl is making her believe, but she grips that hand with all of her willpower. Trying to hold on - though for what, she's not sure.

"I know. I'm not scared. I'm -- we don't get to be upset. That's what my daddy told me, a while ago. We don't get to be upset." It's been her constant mantra over the past few months. It's what she repeats to herself in the dark, every night. Whenever she needs it.

"Thank you."

[reassures]

"We don't," Nill agrees gently, and she tries to make it feel like her fingers tighten on Beth's hand, making sure that the presence hasn't faded if nothing else, that Beth will feel like someone was with her until the last moment. That maybe she won't think it's just a figment of a dying mind. "We don't, but sometimes it's very hard not to be upset."

"Take care of yourself too, alright? I'll see you soon."

[schnapp]

"Bye, Nill."

There's a lot more that she wants to say. And she wonders, if maybe this was what her dad had felt, or if it had been too quick for him to have any last regrets. She really hopes that was the cast. She hopes he didn't have any regrets.

She can see the exact moment in her mind. The sword flashing in the midday sun. The red gash in her father's neck that had appeared so suddenly. But she also remembers the faintest hint of a smile on his face, too. It's easier, to focus on that instead of anything else.

Her father's smile is the last thing she concentrates on when the last breath is forced out of her body.

[reassures]

She makes it as easy as possible. There shouldn't be any pain for Beth. She doesn't try to make it so that there's no sadness, or room to reminisce, because at least for the time these are Beth's final moments, and they should be spent the way she wants to spend them. If that means remembering the way her father died then that was up to her.

"Bye, Beth," She responds quietly, and there are tears on her face before Beth even breathes her last.