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Anemia; Noun. A condition marked by a deficiency of red blood cells in the blood, resulting in pallor and weariness.
Topic Started: Jun 4 2017, 06:04 PM (1,067 Views)
VoltTurtle
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The girl who dreams on the back of a giant space turtle.
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Penelope nodded along to what Raina was saying, despite her friend's voice sounding oddly distant.

She didn't realize dying would be like this. She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't this. She held in the urge to hyperventilate, to sob more loudly. She was so, so very afraid.

"O-Okay." She said, her voice trembling and weak, shivers overtaking her body. She closed her eyes, just like Raina told her to. "L-Like I said, w-who was your f-favorite c-character?"

She breathed in, her breathing painful, her whole body hurting. Why did everything have to hurt so much?

"R-Raina?"
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"Oh, um..." Raina wracked her brain to try and remember who the characters of Fullmetal Alchemist even were. It had been so long since she watched the show. It was hard to concentrate.

"I guess Winry was cool..."

Penelope tugged at her hand and Raina squeezed back. "I'm here. Let's go with Winry, yeah?" She tried to laugh and couldn't. "I can't... I can't really think of anyone else right now."

She reached up to brush Penelope's bang's back from her forehead, a gesture of meaningless comfort. "I guess that's kind of a predictable answer, huh?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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VoltTurtle
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A crushing wall of silence and a gentle ringing noise were the only answers Penelope received to her question.

She began to open her mouth to call out again, only to stop when she felt her hand be squeezed. Raina was still there, right next to her.

But if Raina was still there, then why wasn't she answering?

"R-Raina?" She spoke, moving her vocal cords, forcing air out of her lungs, but no sound came out.

She continued trying to speak, her words slurring themselves because she could no longer hear them. "R-Raina? Are y-you saying things? Am I s-saying things?"

She heard nothing but silence, the silence threatening to overwhelm and crush the life out of her. She began hyperventilating, only to stop herself as her breathing grew even more painful. She wanted to cry, to let panic take over her completely, but no more tears would come out.

"Raina h-have I–have I g-gone deaf too? P-Please say something, or s-squeeze my hand again. P-Please let me know y-you're still there."
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Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh-

Penelope was dying.

It all crashed into Raina all at once. Her best friend was dying on the ground in front of her and there was nothing she could do.

Raina squeezed Penelope's hand helplessly, staring. She opened her mouth to say something, but would it do any good? Penelope couldn't hear her. Penelope was dying for no reason.

"Oh my God. Oh my God." Her voice came out weak and strained.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Penelope wasn't alone, Raina was still there, with her.

She was blind and deaf, but at least she wasn't going to die alone.

She tried to speak again, her voice weaker than before, her words more slurred. "I'm... sorry, Raina... I'm s-so s-sorry... I f-fucked up and n-now... now you have to c-clean up the m-mess."

She gasped for air, breathing more difficult than it had ever been in her life. "I-I tried to s-soften the blow, keep conversation g-going for as long as... as possible, but now I can't... a-all I can do is t-talk while... while you l-listen."

She was afraid, she was in full blown panic mode, if she had any strength left in her muscles she would be blindly thrashing and running around the room, trying to shake off the torrential, overwhelming emotions that were washing over her.

But she couldn't move, she could barely speak. She was locked in until she finally died, finally stopped thinking forever. Locked in until she returned to the oblivion that she had come from originally.

Just one final request, for her best friend in the whole world. "R-Raina... d-don't cry for me... I don't w-want you to cry. J-Just stay with me, so I d-don't have to die a-alone. If... if you can do that f-for me, maybe dying w-won't be that bad..."
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"Oh my God. Oh my God."

Raina heard Penelope but didn't really process her words. What did it matter? Penelope couldn't hear her anyway. Who the hell cared if she cried? She had been crying since she woke up in this godforsaken place, and now her best friend was dying.

"You're not going to die." Raina sobbed, knowing that Penelope couldn't hear her. She gripped Penelope's hand with both of hers. She wasn't sure if the bleeding had stopped completely. It didn't matter. Penelope was dying.

"J-just stop... stop, okay!? Stop it!"

Penelope didn't stop talking, and her voice was getting fainter and more slurred with each word.

"Stop it!" Raina shouted over her. She shoot a desperate look over at Johnny. "J-Johnny..."

Penelope's responding squeeze every time Raina squeezed her hand was getting weaker.

"Johnny, do something!"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Penelope laid there, opening her eyes briefly, only to continue to be greeted by darkness.

The pain was starting to fade away, which was nice.

She just needed to keep feeling Raina squeeze her hand, know her friend was still there. No more words needed to be spoken between them. She just had to wait for oblivion to take her. Panic was receding, a weird kind of serenity taking over her. In her life, she defined herself by the people that she kept as friends. There was really no better way for her to die than with her friends, pain slowly fading away.

Her body trembled, and tension left the muscles in her arm. She numbly felt her hand slip out of Raina's grasp, a light sensation presumably signalling that her hand hit the floor following shortly after.

She waited to feel her friend pick up her hand again, only to feel nothing.

"H-Hey... R-Raina... p-pick up my hand again... p-please."
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Raina did pick up Penelope's hand again quickly after it slipped out of her grasp. She squeezed tightly just like before. "I'm sorry, I'm right here, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." She was sobbing hard now, not caring who was watching or what Johnny was thinking or even if Dorothy came back to menace them once again.

She lifted Penelope's hand and cradled it close to her chest, her whole body shuddering as she cried.

Who cared if anyone else was there? Her best friend for basically her entire life was dying and the world was ending.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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The girl who dreams on the back of a giant space turtle.
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Penelope waited patiently, waited to feel the comfort of her friend's grasp once again.



She felt nothing.



Did they leave? They wouldn't have left her like this, would they? Right after she said that she didn't want to die alone? That wasn't like them, they had to still be there, they had to be...

"Raina... p-please... pick up my hand. Y-You're scaring me..."



Again, she felt nothing.

They were gone. She was alone. She was going to die alone.

"Please, p-please if you guys are s-still there, please hold m-my hand... Don't... don't do t-this to me, don't l-leave me alone like this... oh god p-please don't leave me alone... please, p-please don't leave me alone..."
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"Wh-what- I'm not..."

Penelope interrupted her, words slurring until they were almost incomprehensible.

"I didn't leave, I'm right here!" Raina shook Penelope's arm to punctuate her statement.

"I'm not leaving, just- just stop it!!" Her voice rose to a shriek and then cracked. Raina clutched at Penelope's arm with both hands, almost doubled over. "I'm right here! I didn't go anywhere, stop talking like that!"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Penelope waited, her lips trembling.

She saw nothing, she heard nothing, she felt nothing.

"No..."

They were gone, for some ineffable reason they had left her. Maybe they couldn't handle it, having to watch their friend die. Were the situation reversed, Penelope doubted that she would be able to handle it. But she wouldn't dare leave Raina, or Johnny, or anyone else if she had a choice. They all deserved to have someone with them when they died, they didn't deserve to die alone.

But why didn't she deserve to have someone there? Why did her friends decide to leave her, when she need them most?

"Oh god... I-I'm alone..."

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and Penelope let out a wail, tears finally returning to her eyes, presumably for the absolute final time. She wanted to bring her arms up to her face, but they would not move. She tried to roll over, but her chest lay still. She tried to breathe, and her lungs barely functioned.

She continued to speak, despite the fact that her words would only fall on her own deaf ears. Her voice was whiny, childlike, scared. Her voice rang out with more agony than it had ever expressed. Her stuttering was gone, her words given new strength from suffering as delirium slowly took over her brain. "I'm alone! Nobody's here, I'm going to die and nobody's here!"

"Why did they leave? Why did they leave me here? Anyone, please! Let me know you're there! Let me know you're there! I need... to know... someone is there!"

She stopped, shuddering, her second wind ending.

"Please... please... I don't... want to die... like this..."
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"St-stop it! Stop!!" Raina's begging fell on literal deaf ears, but she continued anyway, babbling on top of Penelope's own pleas.

"God, stop, I'm right here, I'm sorry, you know I wouldn't leave you, please-"

Her voice broke and she could only keep clinging to Penelope's hand, blinded by tears as Penelope's words muddled even further and eventually stopped.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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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.




"Wh..."





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






"Huh..."







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








"Anyone..."









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










"Please..."











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












"Hold..."













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














"My..."






















































G013: Penelope Fitzgerald: Deceased
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Man, he really wasn't up to any of this. The worst of it, though, was that he knew. Johnny knew that he didn't matter, not in this moment nor in any of the moments to come. All he could do, and all he was doing, was to crouch next to Penny, have his hands buried deep into his pockets and his eyes looking at everything in the room but her.

He still noticed it, of course. Damn he wished he didn't, but he could hear Penny dying in despair just 'cause she's also losing her mind. As for Raina, well she'd be getting worse and worse too and there was nothing Johnny could do. Honestly, he wasn't even daring to look into her eyes, or even at her. He wasn't deserving it.

He started crying. But he made sure he wouldn't be heard.

He tried, at least.
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"Ah... uh..."

Raina struggled to say something, anything. She knew that somewhere deep inside, just out of reach, there was something she could say to make all of this not real. Something she could do to prove it was all wrong, and then she could fix it.

The bleeding had stopped.

Penelope's eyes were closed but her jaw was slack, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She didn't look a damn thing like she was just sleeping, like people loved to say about the dead.

The dead. Penelope was dead.

In the end, no words came. Raina just turned to the side and threw up, sobbing between heaves.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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