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    Summary

    Ilya’s hand found Shane’s shoulder just as it had found hers. It turned over Shane’s limp body just as it had turned hers over, tears of fear building up in his eyes as the body flopped over onto its back. He wanted to see Shane, but all he could see was her. All he could see were her open eyes, rolled so far up into the back of her head that he couldn’t even see the blue of her irises anymore. All he could see was haunting white, sunken in cheeks, deathly gray skin. And the vomit. Oh, the fucking vomit. It was leaking out of his mother’s mouth and down the side of her face, causing a chunk of golden blonde hair to be plastered to her cheek. It was pink and frothy, running down her neck and soaking into her nightgown and the mattress below her, and it was speckled with red. With blood. With her blood. That’s when the scream had escaped him. 

    (AKA: Ilya relives his mother's death when he finds Shane unresponsive. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK).

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