Post by MICHAEL SHEPARD on Sept 30, 2022 22:28:48 GMT
The wind cut through the trees, sharp and cold as a blade against his throat. Michael pulled his coat closer around himself, frowning against the sensation. He shouldn’t have been cold, hadn’t really been since the night his bones had snapped and reformed themselves beneath his skin for the first time. Superior healing and speed, some kinda of inner heating, no protection against all the emotional baggage that came with being a shifter. Like he had needed that on top of what he was already carrying, what Abi now carried.
As he headed down the path towards the newly filled graves – far too many for a small town – he pulled his phone from his pocket. Nothing from Abi, although there shouldn’t have been since she was in school. He’d already been on edge for her, the constant worry about her mom, about losing her again, continuing to bleed into his mind on a constant basis. Being magically convinced that a decade had passed since your daughter had been returned to you didn’t erase what you really felt, it just wrapped it in a coat of cotton wool that had been hard to fight through.
Had it been Abi triggering the curse in her DNA he’d warned her about that had finally left things sharpening around the edges? Maybe. If it was then it was just another reason he’d never wanted his little girl to go through that. She’d seen enough blood shed, had felt enough pain, Abi didn’t need more.
Green eyes that seemed to be bracketed with more lines than they had been just months before flitted along the line of wooden markers. Eventually stones would be placed, names and dates memorialised in marble, for now it was just the crosses, the basics of a person’s life boiled down to a couple of words on a little brass plaque. Somewhere here the man his daughter had killed on the first night of the carnival had been laid to rest. Someone else undeserving of the pain the universe had put upon them.
He’d missed the funeral. Had kept Abi home from school that day, trying to distract her with movies and popcorn, anything to stop her from focusing on the horrific facts of what had happened that night. Michael was pretty sure Hazel’s parents would’ve done the same with her, shielding their daughter any way possible from the tragedy that had hurt both girls. It was a parent’s natural instinct, one that he’d failed on too many times for him to count.
Michael lifted his hand, knuckled at a nose that was faintly pink from the wind. Those failures weighed on his shoulders like a yoke, leaving him fighting against the guilt on a constant basis. He couldn’t let Abi see it, couldn’t let her start to feel it or he’d have entirely failed at keeping his daughter safe. He’d already failed Sara and wouldn’t do the same with this second chance he had with Abi now.
There.
Stopping in front of the cross, Michael said a silent prayer in his head. All he’d seen in that murky world that existed beneath the one most folks clung onto and still he didn’t know for sure what waited for people after. Abi hadn’t told him much about where she’d been and maybe that was for the best. The way his daughter had been taken from him was brutal, he didn’t want her plagued with it. It’d be alright with him if the full memories of what had happened never came back to her, it would give her some protection at least. ”I’m sorry,” Michael managed hoarsely, staring directly at the cross as he spoke. ”They were just kids, they lost focus for just a second … it wasn’t neglect, it wasn’t on purpose, I hope you get that.” He hoped the family understood it, that Abi and Hazel did too. An accident was an accident and no child deserved to believe otherwise, especially when they were already carrying around the weight of having taken a life.
The crunch of another set of footsteps had him freezing for a moment before he glanced over his shoulder to see someone else approaching the section of fresh graves. Michael shifted uneasily, tucking himself closer to the edge between the raw earth and the grass. ”Sorry, I’m in the way.” He wasn’t, not in the physical sense at least. Lifting his chin towards the man’s grave, Michael cleared his throat. ”Is … he yours?” If this was the family then maybe he’d have the chance to apologise on his daughter’s behalf, even if it put him in a more difficult spot than he’d wanted to be in with this little visit to the graveside.
As he headed down the path towards the newly filled graves – far too many for a small town – he pulled his phone from his pocket. Nothing from Abi, although there shouldn’t have been since she was in school. He’d already been on edge for her, the constant worry about her mom, about losing her again, continuing to bleed into his mind on a constant basis. Being magically convinced that a decade had passed since your daughter had been returned to you didn’t erase what you really felt, it just wrapped it in a coat of cotton wool that had been hard to fight through.
Had it been Abi triggering the curse in her DNA he’d warned her about that had finally left things sharpening around the edges? Maybe. If it was then it was just another reason he’d never wanted his little girl to go through that. She’d seen enough blood shed, had felt enough pain, Abi didn’t need more.
Green eyes that seemed to be bracketed with more lines than they had been just months before flitted along the line of wooden markers. Eventually stones would be placed, names and dates memorialised in marble, for now it was just the crosses, the basics of a person’s life boiled down to a couple of words on a little brass plaque. Somewhere here the man his daughter had killed on the first night of the carnival had been laid to rest. Someone else undeserving of the pain the universe had put upon them.
He’d missed the funeral. Had kept Abi home from school that day, trying to distract her with movies and popcorn, anything to stop her from focusing on the horrific facts of what had happened that night. Michael was pretty sure Hazel’s parents would’ve done the same with her, shielding their daughter any way possible from the tragedy that had hurt both girls. It was a parent’s natural instinct, one that he’d failed on too many times for him to count.
Michael lifted his hand, knuckled at a nose that was faintly pink from the wind. Those failures weighed on his shoulders like a yoke, leaving him fighting against the guilt on a constant basis. He couldn’t let Abi see it, couldn’t let her start to feel it or he’d have entirely failed at keeping his daughter safe. He’d already failed Sara and wouldn’t do the same with this second chance he had with Abi now.
There.
Stopping in front of the cross, Michael said a silent prayer in his head. All he’d seen in that murky world that existed beneath the one most folks clung onto and still he didn’t know for sure what waited for people after. Abi hadn’t told him much about where she’d been and maybe that was for the best. The way his daughter had been taken from him was brutal, he didn’t want her plagued with it. It’d be alright with him if the full memories of what had happened never came back to her, it would give her some protection at least. ”I’m sorry,” Michael managed hoarsely, staring directly at the cross as he spoke. ”They were just kids, they lost focus for just a second … it wasn’t neglect, it wasn’t on purpose, I hope you get that.” He hoped the family understood it, that Abi and Hazel did too. An accident was an accident and no child deserved to believe otherwise, especially when they were already carrying around the weight of having taken a life.
The crunch of another set of footsteps had him freezing for a moment before he glanced over his shoulder to see someone else approaching the section of fresh graves. Michael shifted uneasily, tucking himself closer to the edge between the raw earth and the grass. ”Sorry, I’m in the way.” He wasn’t, not in the physical sense at least. Lifting his chin towards the man’s grave, Michael cleared his throat. ”Is … he yours?” If this was the family then maybe he’d have the chance to apologise on his daughter’s behalf, even if it put him in a more difficult spot than he’d wanted to be in with this little visit to the graveside.
Tagged: Open * Word Count: 769
hope to see you in the discord! 
