• FADE OUT •

1: Graveyards

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It was a dark night in December, and the air was so cold that any human that wasn't dressed in warm winter apparel would die in a matter of minutes. The trees in the nearby forest were rustling tamely in the wind and the animals were eerily quiet, as if they'd been scared into silence. It was desolate, that night—and lonely.

Most people were fast asleep in their homes, all cozy beneath warm quilts and on top of soft mattresses. But one of them was awake, lingering in the local cemetery, and mourning a death for the sixth time that year.

She was a teenage girl, small of stature, standing silent before an old headstone. Her short, auburn hair appeared more black than anything else in the darkness, and her eyes were dark, fathomless pits. She was crying, distant streetlights catching on the drops of water as they slid down her cheeks and fell, soaking into her shirt.

She wore thin, ripped jeans and an aged green shirt, and her feet were bare and sunken into the freshly fallen snow. The clothing she wore was far from appropriate for this time of year, but the girl didn't seem to care.

She should've been feeling her toes go numb, or shivering, at the very least, from the chilly wind that brushes through the graveyard. But she was still and noiseless, and felt nothing but a deep well of grief.

In one of her hands she clutched a bouquet of white flowers, picked from the nearest greenhouse. She picked at them a bit, ridding it of any thorns or leaves. Would Maria have liked them? Would she have given her that same smile that she always gave if she saw them?

She knelt before the gravestone, setting the flowers on snow in front of her. "Hey sweetheart. How are things where you are?" A lump was building in her throat, and tears were blurring her eyes, but she said the words perfectly, warmth radiating from her voice as she did so. Her Maria deserved that much.

"Things aren't looking too good where I am," she whispered, before continuing in a louder tone. "Annie's missing...Caleb is dead and his brother has to live with it..." Whatever invisible strings that had been holding her together were cut, and her shoulders slumped, her hair spilling over them to fall in front of her eyes.

"I don't know what I'm doing, amica mea. You always knew what to do and what to say—and look at me! I'm a complete mess..." She had long since ceased her crying, but her eyes were still puffy and red in evidence of her misery. She was more tired, now, than sad.

She was so absorbed in her emotions—so wrapped up in her own thoughts—that she nearly didn't notice as a hand landed on her shoulder and she startled, nearly jumping out of her skin at the cold touch.

She turned her head quickly and her searching gaze was met with a soft brown eye and hair the color of bone. His skin was pale and unscarred and where his left eye should have been was a white medical eyepatch. The girl knew him instantly, and allowed herself to relax, a frown still heavy on her lips.

The boy looked to be about thirteen. His face was one of concern, his brows knit close together and his nose scrunched up. She reached out to pat his cheek, a familial love that she was no stranger to coursing through her. She should've known he would come looking for her. After what had happened at Dolcaedis, he was bound to worry just a bit more about all of them.

"You shouldn't have come out here, soror mea," he insisted, his eye wide and full of innocence. "She's dead and gone, and she wouldn't want you to follow her." The girl flinched back a bit, the words hitting her like a slap in the face.

She supposed that was fair. This wasn't their land and she was already risking a lot by just being here. Derwent street belonged to a rather extensive territory that was, at the moment, decidedly not hers. She could only imagine how furious the local mutts would be if they found out she had been trespassing.