Work Text:
“1,2,3,4,5,6,7-”
He heard the sound of a bullet tearing the air. He heard a scream, or was it a whisper?
He remembers lying in a bed, clutching his side as his fingers came bloodied. He gasped for air, pain bringing darkness to his eyes before he remembered the flames in the eyes of his parents, and he opened his own eyes again.
Tears began to fall freely from his eyes as he began to see a strange light ahead of him. Was he going to die without his parent’s by his side? What about Angie and all his little brother, he couldn't leave them alone, especially with everything going on between his dad and mom.
If he leaves, will they continue fighting, ignoring each other, or forgive?
Will he die all alone? God, he was so scared. The light seemed to call to him, bringing him closer and closer to oblivion. He heard a voice, a voice that he knew.
“Philip!”
His Pa was here. He was here. He wasn’t alone.
Then, his mom came. His beautiful mom. She was here.
They were together. He smiled.
But he had to apologize, he forgot how to count in that moment. He was sorry for everything. He told her.
She sang the melody with him again, reminding him how to count.
One, two, three…
Un, deux, trois…
Four, five, six…
Quatre, cinq, six…
Seven, eight, nine.
Sept..
He remembered.
But why did she scream?