GAME OVER ━━ Lip Gallagher

EPILOGUE

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Game Over
epilogue

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SUNLIGHT, BURNING HER EYES. The smell of blood stinging the hairs in her nose. The sick feeling of his blood sticking to her, leeching onto her, absorbing into her skin like a birthmark. Her lungs would cave in as she tried to scream, clawing at the residue on her skin furiously, fear trapping her in a fog so thick that she had no idea where she was. Though it always ended up with her awakening in a sweat, a hand pressed to her mouth, and fearful sets of eyes locked on her. This was one of those times. She woke to Lip's hand against her mouth once more, her eyes stinging with tears, arms angry and red from her incessant scratching. "It's okay," he whispered tiredly, eyes half lidded, a yawn breaking apart his assurance. "It was just a dream."

No, she thought. She grabbed his wrist in her trembling grip, eyes pleading with him. No, she thought once more. It wasn't a dream. He sighed, warm breath hitting her face. The bed behind them creaked and small footsteps could be heard exiting the room. The light in the hall flashed inside of the room for a moment before the door creaked shut once more. "Carl's awake," the duo heard Ian say from his own bed, voice groggy. She tried to blink away her tears, only to realize that it was useless. The faucet had been turned on and she was unsure of how to switch it off. "Shit," Lip cursed. It has been this way for a week now. She would wake them all up with her petrified screams, only to be told that it was nothing, that they understood why it was happening.

However, this night was different. The door pulled open once more and the top of Fiona's wild hair became visible to the two on the top bunk. "Lip," her stern voice whispered. The door opened further and the familiar footfalls made it known that Carl had reentered and his body fell back onto his mattress. "I'm sorry," Phoebe whispered, her voice muffled by his palm. He shook his head at her. It's not your fault, he thought. Slowly, he retracted his hand from her face and stretched his arm over his head. "Now, please." The urgency in Fiona's voice made Phoebe shudder.

He slid off of the bed with ease. Phoebe sat up a bit, wild eyes staring back at the boy. "Wait," she whispered after him, reaching across the bed to grab his wrist. His head snapped back toward her in surprise. "I'll be right back," he told her. With his free hand, he made an X shape over his heart. "You have my word. Okay?" Her grip faltered slightly. She knew that she was probably overreacting. What was going to happen? It wasn't like Fiona was going to stab him in the face, or shoot him. She gulped, teary eyes unfocused in front of her. "Pheebs," he called out softly, taking her chin between his fingers. The action was enough to have her shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she repeated, pulling her hand back. She opted on tugging his pillow into her chest to put pressure on the gaping wound in her chest cavity.

Lip hesitated. There was a thick tension that hovered over them ever since that night. It was thick, suffocating. It followed them everywhere they went. It pounced at inopportune times. Deciding that stalling was probably the worst thing he could do, Lip approached Fiona tiredly and joined her out into the hall. The door was left cracked so a sliver of light was still illuminating the room. Phoebe held the pillow tighter to her chest as she tried to eavesdrop on their conversation. "I'm sorry," Fiona sighed, her voice hushed. "She has to go. She's scaring the kids. No one can sleep." Lip was silent, blue eyes staring intently at his older sister. "And go where?" he asked, voice tight. "Back to the house? Back to the place where it happened?"