(From The Book of Bridgeticus chapter eleventy billion, verse four hundred thousand and five: And on the ninth day, when he saw Bridget, God created Ativan. And he saw her on it and said that it was good. Or at least, better than the alternative.)
(With apologies to Sam for liberties taken with the Bible verses, but honey, I'm so high right now.)
In the warm dark early this morning he turned me toward him and ripped out my heart, pinning it to my sleeve, nodding as he worked.
I love you, Bridget. And I hate every second that I have to be away from you.
He looked at me fiercely as he checked his work and then he was gone before the sun could wake up and see him off even.
And then I woke up and Lochlan was there. I looked down expecting to see the gaping hole in me where my heart had been wedged tightly in place for so long and found it dripping all over the sheets, making a mess. Making my arm ache, for it's heavy. Dense with feeling, rich with blood, laced through with repairs done over the years.
He doesn't see it. Fuck. I am crazy.
What is it, Peanut?
I had a dream about Cole.
But he doesn't want to know what it was about (because duh, Cole) and gets up to get ready for work, asking Ben if he can keep care today when Ben probably (always) has other plans. Whenever my brain starts opening doors that are better off locked, imagining violence or finding trouble to make for itself he worries even more than usual, if that were even possible.
Yeah, Ben confirms to Loch as I stand there holding my elbow up in front of my nose to watch the blood drip off the end, watching as the puddle grows around my feet. Soon I will be Alice in the drowning pool and Loch will wished he stayed home and saved me instead of leaving me with someone equally distractible. Someone with their own ghosts can't fight yours off too. No one's strong enough for that. Not even the guy who eats amplifiers for breakfast and then says he's hungry.
Or the one who eats souls.
(Or anyone, for that matter.)
I stare at him as my feet leave the ground, treading water easily as I was taught in the other pool, back in sunnier times. He's looking at his phone. I call out to him as my head goes under but he's not listening. I open my mouth and blood rushes in, filling my lungs. When they find me they'll say somberly,
It appears she murdered herself. Case closed.
And then I'll be a ghost for someone else to fight off.
(That isn't fair, now, is it?)
I start to try and dig my way out but it's thick like quicksand now and I really fucked up. Shit. I thrash and fight and get nowhere and then the surface breaks. Two hands thrust down into the heavy liquid, pulling me up by the hands roughly. I surface in slow motion. I cough and cough, leaving a spray of red across the front of his formerly white shirt. Lochlan pounds me on the back, pushing my head against his chest.
Couldn't you SEE this? He yells at Ben, who has faded into the background. I can hardly see him between deep heaving breaths.
She was fine a second ago. I'm right here! For fucks sakes.
Why didn't you see it, Ben?
I won't let him, I say thickly. I feel drunk. I told you. I need to save him too.
Even if it kills you?
Jake won't let that happen.
I saved you, Bridget. ME! Stop giving him all the credit. He's the one who finished you off!
I just look at him until his words sink down into my flesh and then they begin to sting and it makes me cry. Good. I can join the rest of them and no one has to be alone in their misery.
