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The girl who dreams on the back of a giant space turtle.
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Penelope waited again, for what, she didn't know.

Her friends had left her. She had spent basically her entire life with Raina, they had truly been the best of friends, and Raina had left her alone to die.

"Why this... why me? Why did this... have to happen... to me..."

Her body grew weaker, the last vestiges of life leaving her. Breathing was agonizingly difficult, each and every breath taking longer to inhale than the last.

She wanted to scream, vomit, hit something. She had never felt more hopeless in her life.

This just had to be a bad dream. It was too perfectly terrible, it had to be her subconscious mocking her. All she had to do was wait it out and she would wake up, Raina and Johnny would be there, they would continue their journey. There was no way this wasn't all a bad dream.

She was so afraid.

"I want my mom... I want my dad... I want my sisters... please, anyone..."

She was never going to be able to think, or feel, or laugh, or cry ever again. Her life was already over, stolen away from her by monsters masquerading as human beings.

"Please... please... I don't... want... to die."

A rare little light in the cold, dark universe, snuffed out just like so many others. She was about to enter the long dark, alone, and there was nothing she could do about it.

What would happen to the others, what would happen to everyone she left behind? She would never know, she would never remember them. She didn't want to forget them. She didn't want to forget all the times she shared with all of them, and she didn't want to die and become only a memory for them.

"Someone... please... hold my hand..."

The silence that threatened to drown her faded away, only to be replaced by what sounded like a constant, ringing shriek.

She didn't want this, she couldn't take this. Why did dying have to be like this? Why couldn't she fade peacefully into her eternal dreamless sleep? Why did it have to be like this? Why did her entire body have to betray her, make her hurt before she died?

"I'm... so... tired..."

Her thoughts became scattered, impossible to parse, entirely random.


Why was she speaking, again? She wanted someone to hold her hand, right?


Why couldn't she see anything, or hear anything, or feel anything?


She needed someone to hold her hand, she didn't know why, but she knew she needed it. That was all she knew anymore.


She closed her eyes, tension leaving nearly every muscle in her body.


A faint light painted itself on her retinas. She didn't quite know why.


G013: Penelope Fitzgerald: Deceased
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Anemia · The Asylum Library