Untitled Part 1

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Tippie-toes sashay across the wooden floor with all the grace and stealth of her mother. Soft skirts dance and sway to the growing toddler's movements. Lips of pure peach turn upwards as Halley approaches her Daddy's desk, still strewn with unfinished reports and cut remnants of Edmund's apple as well as the rest of his lunch.

The young girl clambers up onto her daddy's chair. Dark-eyes grow wide as she attentively studies the desk. Five tiny and rather curious fingers reach out and clutch a crisp slice. Halley was at the age where everything she picked up usually ended up in her mouth, to Anna's dismay.

"No..." Anna cries, with a low whimper as she watches helplessly on. "No...Halley, don't..." she cries again, this time more fiercely, but her pleas fall upon deaf ears. She lunges for her young wide-eyed daughter. It is too late, the damage is done. White frothy foam spills from Halley's lips and the young girl falls to the floor in a fit of violent tremors; just like Bucephalus had.

Anna quickly draws her suffering child close to her chest. "Halley..." she murmurs between heavy sobs. Fumbling fingers drift through equally dark curls in an effort to soothe her only child.

A shadowy figure catches her eyes. One she'd know anywhere even without his jacket of forest-green, Captain Simcoe. His words send a chill shooting through her entire figure. "Collateral damage, Misses Strong. Surely, you must understand," comes his excuse. A wicked alligator smile appears upon his thin lips accompanied by the playful mirth in his Arctic hues.

Her heart plummets into the very pit of her stomach from whence, it refuses to rise. How could the death of her beloved daughter be treated so callously? Halley was beautiful. Her parent's little angel of mercy. How could she ever deserve this?! If only her hands were free, she'd kill this demon. "HHHH....EEELLLPPP!!!!" She cries loudly as if she herself were being tormented with a branding iron.

Anna twists, tangles, and thrashes within the sheets as if, physically fighting off the Angel of Death. "Help!" She cries again. However, the frantic chord escapes as nothing more than a strangled scream from the very depths of her burning lungs. A cold sweat trickles down her pale face and she shoots upright, breathing frantic and jagged.
When she sees notices Edmund stirring, she tearfully rasps..."the...the apple. Halley got it." The icy cold fingers of death seem wrapped like barbed-wire around her throbbing heart. She feels incredibly sick and she can not stop the terrible heaving of her chest.

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