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“I could let it take me.”
Laudna’s throat seemed to close. The heartbeat that slowly thumped — a reminder she was still alive in some capacity — froze.
There was a resignation in Imogen’s tone. One that Laudna tried to help fend off for so long, but she knew it festered inside Imogen like a parasite eating away at her will to survive. Laudna knew that Imogen was tired. So tired. The scars that now curled up to her jaw were angry, threatening to turn the same red hue the skin of her arms were. It was no way to live, to be in constant fear of the unknown, of the changes that were assailing your own body. Was it selfish of Laudna to do everything in her power to make Imogen stay? To continue that perpetual suffering?
The question lingered on Laudna’s mind throughout their conversation with the Tempest. And after, when the group split and Imogen and Laudna headed off together, the weight of the implications bore down so heavily that it began to pound against her skull.
“Do you want to give in?” It left Laudna’s lips before she could stop it, the filthy taste of her words clinging to her tongue. Part of her wished that Imogen didn’t hear, or wouldn’t answer. The other listened intently for Imogen’s response as she stopped in her tracks, eyes downcast.
“I don’t know,” Imogen whispered. “I think.. I’m really tired.”
Laudna’s arm curled around her waist, willing her protective grip to rid of the trembles that started to overcome Imogen’s suddenly frail form.
“It’s inevitable, isn’t it?” The sound was muffled against her shoulder. “It’s already happening. I’m becoming one of them.”
A pause lingered in the air, letting the words fester in Laudna’s mind further. She tried to shake them away with some optimistic take, but truly, there was no combatting this.
“That pull’s jus’ gonna get stronger.” Laudna’s shoulder was wet with the tears that expressed fearful acceptance.
Laudna swallowed, bubbling sobs thick against her larynx. “You’re still here, Imogen.”
“For how long?”
Laudna hadn’t wanted to think about that, but now that she did, the image seared like flames against the walls of her mind. Imogen ripped out of her arms in the dead of night, while her body still lay dormant against Laudna’s front. The realization as morning came, that she hadn’t been there with her when it happened. It made Laudna never want to shut her eyes again.
Speech had always come easy to Laudna. It filled the quiet, prevented unwanted thoughts or voices from slipping through the cracks. Became second nature, to stop that silence from festering. Even her subconscious had overwritten that static that always meant quiet, music flowing through as if it were wind. To not be able to fall back on noise was terrifying. The negativity ( no, reality ) she tried so hard to push away eagerly seeped into her.
She was going to lose Imogen.
She didn’t know when, or how, but it was coming. Imogen could delay it all she wanted, resisting the call of her dreams, denying the urgency of her ever-changing scars and skin. Laudna knew, deep down in the depths she refused to let see the light of day. But the sun eventually reaches every part of the sky, as time climbs.
She held onto Imogen tighter as her eyes flitted up to the sky.
Please don’t take her from me yet.