Chapter 12
Warning: This chapter contains negative content that is not suitable for all audiences.
Jane
12•20•8993. 8:07.
I hear Magnuson yell, "Jane!"
I twist around and see him with Arcadia on his back. I jog toward them, wondering what happened to her and why she's on his back, half-conscious.
He grabs my arm, trying to get me to run, but I feel hot fire go through my veins.
I scream and yank my arm away, caressing the already blistering skin and watery eyes.
I then hear her, Arcadia, scream as I did, but in a half-awake way that comes out as a groan of pain.
She whispers something in his ear and panic floods through his face as she falls unconscious.
"Jane, give me your hand," says Magnuson, panicked.
"Why would I do that?" I ask, gripping my burn.
"Because I can heal you," he says. His tone is nonchalant but his eyes are filled with guilt.
I reach out my arm hesitantly.
He twitches his hand and it turns blue, leaving little flakes of ice on the surface of his skin. He touches my burn and relief floods into me.
"We need to run,"
"Okay," I say.
He looks confused. "You're just going to trust me?"
"Of cour-"
"Wait!"
I turn and see the woman who was selling apples.
"I have somewhere for you to hide."
She was thirty feet away. How could she know about this?
•••••••••••
P.O.V.- Kellen
6-10-8990. 16:08.
Holding hands has always been something special between us. An unbreakable barrier. A tie to reality. A way to never let go.
At least that's what Magnuson told me.
It's bearable, but uncomfortable, like a pair of sneakers that are a bit too big or rain on an already dreary day.
Bearable, yet uncomfortable.
Magnuson holds my hand as we ride the train to Tyraniumel, the city where his father and older brother live. Usually, the older brother is the protective one. It's different for the Cormac family.
Magnuson has always been protective.
The train slows and Magnuson grips my hand a bit too hard.
I caress the back of his hand with my fingers, trying to get him to loosen. "It'll be okay," I tell him. He's always feared trains. I'm not sure why. He's never wanted to speak of it.
"How do you know that, Kellen?" he asks, looking into my eyes worriedly.
I don't know.
"I just know."
I give him that crooked smile he always loved and he smiles back bashfully.
"I love you," he says, his voice shaking.
"Right back at 'cha," I joke, kissing his cheek.
He hesitates.
"Can you say it, please, Kellen?" He looks down at his feet.
"What's wrong, Mag?"
"Don't worry about it," he whispers, "I've just got a bad feeling," he kisses the back of my hand lovingly.
"Okay..."
The train stops, and we get off into a crowd of bustling people. Magnuson visibly calms, releasing the tension in his shoulders.
Then I hear gunshots.
Magnuson throws me to the ground, making sure that I'm neither hurt from the gunshots nor from him.
The crowd around us is in full panic, parents getting their children, wives getting their husbands, and Magnus getting me.
"Crawl that way," he whispers, gesturing to a tall building's foundation.
I think of the words he said on the train.
"I love you, Magnuson, I lov-"
My shirt is stained in crimson red.
Magnuson rolls me on my back.
"Fu-"
He rips the long sleeve of his shirt and begins applying pressure to me.
The world starts to fade.
•••••••••••
Magnus always thought death was kind.
He always believed in these things.
He was right.
Death is before he, shadows curling around its black limbs. Its glowing eyes are welcoming.
I take Death's hand, and stand behind him.
Jane
12•20•8993. 8:07.
I hear Magnuson yell, "Jane!"
I twist around and see him with Arcadia on his back. I jog toward them, wondering what happened to her and why she's on his back, half-conscious.
He grabs my arm, trying to get me to run, but I feel hot fire go through my veins.
I scream and yank my arm away, caressing the already blistering skin and watery eyes.
I then hear her, Arcadia, scream as I did, but in a half-awake way that comes out as a groan of pain.
She whispers something in his ear and panic floods through his face as she falls unconscious.
"Jane, give me your hand," says Magnuson, panicked.
"Why would I do that?" I ask, gripping my burn.
"Because I can heal you," he says. His tone is nonchalant but his eyes are filled with guilt.
I reach out my arm hesitantly.
He twitches his hand and it turns blue, leaving little flakes of ice on the surface of his skin. He touches my burn and relief floods into me.
"We need to run,"
"Okay," I say.
He looks confused. "You're just going to trust me?"
"Of cour-"
"Wait!"
I turn and see the woman who was selling apples.
"I have somewhere for you to hide."
She was thirty feet away. How could she know about this?
•••••••••••
P.O.V.- Kellen
6-10-8990. 16:08.
Holding hands has always been something special between us. An unbreakable barrier. A tie to reality. A way to never let go.
At least that's what Magnuson told me.
It's bearable, but uncomfortable, like a pair of sneakers that are a bit too big or rain on an already dreary day.
Bearable, yet uncomfortable.
Magnuson holds my hand as we ride the train to Tyraniumel, the city where his father and older brother live. Usually, the older brother is the protective one. It's different for the Cormac family.
Magnuson has always been protective.
The train slows and Magnuson grips my hand a bit too hard.
I caress the back of his hand with my fingers, trying to get him to loosen. "It'll be okay," I tell him. He's always feared trains. I'm not sure why. He's never wanted to speak of it.
"How do you know that, Kellen?" he asks, looking into my eyes worriedly.
I don't know.
"I just know."
I give him that crooked smile he always loved and he smiles back bashfully.
"I love you," he says, his voice shaking.
"Right back at 'cha," I joke, kissing his cheek.
He hesitates.
"Can you say it, please, Kellen?" He looks down at his feet.
"What's wrong, Mag?"
"Don't worry about it," he whispers, "I've just got a bad feeling," he kisses the back of my hand lovingly.
"Okay..."
The train stops, and we get off into a crowd of bustling people. Magnuson visibly calms, releasing the tension in his shoulders.
Then I hear gunshots.
Magnuson throws me to the ground, making sure that I'm neither hurt from the gunshots nor from him.
The crowd around us is in full panic, parents getting their children, wives getting their husbands, and Magnus getting me.
"Crawl that way," he whispers, gesturing to a tall building's foundation.
I think of the words he said on the train.
"I love you, Magnuson, I lov-"
My shirt is stained in crimson red.
Magnuson rolls me on my back.
"Fu-"
He rips the long sleeve of his shirt and begins applying pressure to me.
The world starts to fade.
•••••••••••
Magnus always thought death was kind.
He always believed in these things.
He was right.
Death is before he, shadows curling around its black limbs. Its glowing eyes are welcoming.
I take Death's hand, and stand behind him.
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