Lost Love

Short Story by @feline5

(Play A Thousand Years by Christina Perry)

Claire stared up at the clouds like they would answer all her questions. A lone tear slid down her pale wet cheeks. "Why?" She whispered, ducking her head, she snuggled into his lifeless arms. A strangles sob escaped, her small form shakes from each and every sob that leaves her throat. "Please, please, please..." She begged the lifeless body. "Say something, just open your eyes, please?" Tears flowed down her cheeks one after the other. "Please." Her hoarse whispers fell on deaf ears, she stroked his soft black/brown hair, cooing to him, like gentle words would bring him back. Large hands gently grabbed her around the shoulders, and began to drag her away from the dead lifeless form of Myrnin. She screamed and scratched at Oliver's , begging him to take her back to him. "No! Stop! He needs me, let go!" She shrieked at him, hysterical.

Frustrated, Oliver scooped Claire into his arms and threw her over his shoulder, ignoring her cries of protest. He vamp sped to founders square, and over to his apartment, unlocking the door with his free hand, he takes the crying girl over to a spare guest room and dumps her onto the large king sized bed. Claire curled into herself and continued to sob softly to herself, crying herself to sleep. Oliver slipped out unnoticed, locking the guest room door behind him, her soft breathing tingling his sensitive ears. He walked right out of the small apartment and locked up after him.

Claire woke up hours later, alone, with a small headache, her surroundings were unfamiliar to her, she panicked until she remembered what had happened the night before, tears escaped without her consent, he was gone, and now, he'll never know how much she loved him. Meanwhile, Oliver was at the local hospital, in the morgue, getting Myrnin ready for his funeral, unaware of the suicidal thoughts running through his guests' mind. Claire walked around the guest room aimlessly after discovering she was locked up like a prisoner. Her tears had dried long ago, she had come across a small fruit knife moments ago and now she couldn't stop thinking about the shiny inviting metal. It called to her; she picked it up gently, turning it round and round in her small hands.

It was beautiful, it had some kind of Victorian decoration on the handle, the silverware glinted in the fluorescent lighting, speaking to her, "just slide me across your wrists, watch the beautiful crimson blood drip," it whispered. Dazed Claire held the knife up to the light, swaying as if to silent music, she hummed lightly to herself, she flipped it over, the embossed print was almost identical to the other side. Carefully, she brought the entrancing cutlery down on her left wrist, with a swift motion from her right wrist, red droplets appeared along the small cut on her wrist, it stung a bit but she couldn't focus on the pain when such a beautiful moment was happening to her. She swapped the knife from her right to her left and quickly ran the small knife across her right wrist.

The cut was deeper and hurt a little more than the first, but it was all worth it for the waterfall of crimson that greeted her... Wasn't it? Suddenly an idea came to her. If such a small and shallow cut could be so beautiful, then a deeper cut would surely be magical, she thought. She gripped the handle of the knife tightly in both hands, and brought it down, into her stomache. Unprepared for the pain, she gasped, unable to handle the pain she stumbled back, falling onto the bed behind her, she gasped for breathe and held a hand to the wound, what had she done? Black dots appeared in her vision, she sucked in one last breathe, "I'm coming, Myrnin," she whispered, and breathed out one last time, her eyes fluttered shut, her heart stopped beating, she lay lifeless in her pool of blood. "Goodbye." She whispered her last words to the cruel world.

Three hours later, Oliver returns to inform his guest of her boss' funeral the following weekend. "Claire, are you awake, child? Come, we must.." He cut himself off as he entered the guest room he had locked the mourning girl, his chocolate brown eyes widened as he took in the site before him. Danvers lay on the once fluffy sheets in a puddle of her own plasma, her dull lifeless brown eyes stared up at the tiles on the ceiling, a small frail hand lay over the life-ending wound on her stomach, her pale cracked lips slightly parted with a trace of red liquid from the corner of her mouth. Her complexion pale and deathly; she was dead. He gasped, unable to comprehend what had happened. In her left hand, loosely held was a shiny metal object that was covered in fragments of her fair flesh and soaked in Claire's stale, dried blood.

The following weekend, Morganville hosted a double funeral, Claire and Myrnin were buried beside each other, words of praise and respect were spoken by friends and acquaintances alike. Finally, the founder herself uttered some parting words for her lost friends. "...and today we part with Claire Danvers and Myrnin, they were both good friends of Morganville, and have helped in our times of need, what say people of Morganville, we not mourn the deaths of our friends, but, instead, celebrate their lives." With those words, Amelie placed a single silver rose upon each of their caskets, and whispered her last goodbyes softly so even the closest vampires hadn't heard her words, "Even in death, you two will not part, I promise you that."