all.
Air surged in and out of her mouth. Snot and tears mixed on her face but she didn't bother to reach up and wipe them off.
She had come here ….
Why? Why had she come?
Because she wanted to help, because she didn't want Kenneth Marks to win.
Because of Morena's children.
This, though … she hadn't agreed to it. The boy that every moment looked more like Frankenstein, he might be evil, might be Kenneth Marks. But Morena? No. She couldn't be.
Rigley's eyes went to the spot that she had lain on. It showed nothing of her, not even a drop of red, though blood covered her body in tiny red dots. Morena did that. Morena put her there and made her call Kenneth Marks.
It was for her kids.
No. It was for her.
She did it to save her children; she had to.
She didn't have to do that. She didn't have to have him pull you off the goddamn bed by your goddamn hair.
She had to do it.
Not like that.
Her mind went back and forth, wrestling with what just happened, not noticing the large chunk of hair that fell from her head to her shoulder, resting on her tattered shirt.
9
Present Day
M ichael opened his eyes and saw sand in front of his face.
He had fallen asleep. He didn't know why, but his mind still needed to rest—less than it had when he possessed a body of his own, yet sleep was still a necessity.
Michael searched for Bryan, briefly, finding that he was still asleep. Bryan slept a lot, more than he ever did before all this happened. No enigma there, though. He simply didn't want to be in this world anymore, and until he found his way to Thera, sleeping was the best way to avoid it.
Michael sat up, his head automatically moving to the last place he'd seen the creature.
His mouth dropped and muscles tensed. His hands dug into the sand at his side, trying to grab anything that might give him some sense of security. None of that existed here, though—perhaps security didn't exist in this life at all anymore.
She stood a hundred feet away from him.
No doubt that he was looking at a female.
Her white aura danced in the air without a single care, as if everything happening around it was natural. As if it didn't inhabit some kid's mind without his knowledge, while another mind witnessed it all.
She stood still, staring at him, not moving anymore; her hands hung at her sides. Michael couldn't pull away. The white haze glowed like phosphorescent jellyfish in the ocean, shining the most beautiful light he'd ever seen. All of it, though, stemmed from her, from the body beneath the aura. He looked it up and down, seeing the fine curvature of muscle, the perfect bone structure in her face, the elegance and strength underlying it all.
Michael closed his mouth, trying to ready himself to speak.
He opened his lips, wanting to say something, but no words came. He couldn't find them. They, like the rest of the desert around him, were lost in the creature's glory.
Minutes, or hours, passed with both of them staring at each other. Neither moving. Neither even glancing away.
Finally, Michael found a few words. "Are you God?"
Perhaps not the God of the Christian Bible, but God none-the-less. What else could look so beautiful, so powerful, and yet so incredibly kind? Her aura danced without care because when you loved everything, what could you worry about? The creature before him … hate didn't exist inside her.
She didn't answer, though, and a few more words came to Michael. "What are you here for?"
Again, only her white-eyed stare that said everything was fine and everything would be fine in the future.
But no, it said more. A sadness lurked behind the kind calm like the blackness that you know is beneath the beautiful blue of the ocean. Michael didn't— couldn't— know what caused such sadness; everything going on in his own life, everything happening outside of this small space he now inhabited—how could this creature be bothered with any of it? The problems of mortals?
Michael turned his head for the first time
Air surged in and out of her mouth. Snot and tears mixed on her face but she didn't bother to reach up and wipe them off.
She had come here ….
Why? Why had she come?
Because she wanted to help, because she didn't want Kenneth Marks to win.
Because of Morena's children.
This, though … she hadn't agreed to it. The boy that every moment looked more like Frankenstein, he might be evil, might be Kenneth Marks. But Morena? No. She couldn't be.
Rigley's eyes went to the spot that she had lain on. It showed nothing of her, not even a drop of red, though blood covered her body in tiny red dots. Morena did that. Morena put her there and made her call Kenneth Marks.
It was for her kids.
No. It was for her.
She did it to save her children; she had to.
She didn't have to do that. She didn't have to have him pull you off the goddamn bed by your goddamn hair.
She had to do it.
Not like that.
Her mind went back and forth, wrestling with what just happened, not noticing the large chunk of hair that fell from her head to her shoulder, resting on her tattered shirt.
9
Present Day
M ichael opened his eyes and saw sand in front of his face.
He had fallen asleep. He didn't know why, but his mind still needed to rest—less than it had when he possessed a body of his own, yet sleep was still a necessity.
Michael searched for Bryan, briefly, finding that he was still asleep. Bryan slept a lot, more than he ever did before all this happened. No enigma there, though. He simply didn't want to be in this world anymore, and until he found his way to Thera, sleeping was the best way to avoid it.
Michael sat up, his head automatically moving to the last place he'd seen the creature.
His mouth dropped and muscles tensed. His hands dug into the sand at his side, trying to grab anything that might give him some sense of security. None of that existed here, though—perhaps security didn't exist in this life at all anymore.
She stood a hundred feet away from him.
No doubt that he was looking at a female.
Her white aura danced in the air without a single care, as if everything happening around it was natural. As if it didn't inhabit some kid's mind without his knowledge, while another mind witnessed it all.
She stood still, staring at him, not moving anymore; her hands hung at her sides. Michael couldn't pull away. The white haze glowed like phosphorescent jellyfish in the ocean, shining the most beautiful light he'd ever seen. All of it, though, stemmed from her, from the body beneath the aura. He looked it up and down, seeing the fine curvature of muscle, the perfect bone structure in her face, the elegance and strength underlying it all.
Michael closed his mouth, trying to ready himself to speak.
He opened his lips, wanting to say something, but no words came. He couldn't find them. They, like the rest of the desert around him, were lost in the creature's glory.
Minutes, or hours, passed with both of them staring at each other. Neither moving. Neither even glancing away.
Finally, Michael found a few words. "Are you God?"
Perhaps not the God of the Christian Bible, but God none-the-less. What else could look so beautiful, so powerful, and yet so incredibly kind? Her aura danced without care because when you loved everything, what could you worry about? The creature before him … hate didn't exist inside her.
She didn't answer, though, and a few more words came to Michael. "What are you here for?"
Again, only her white-eyed stare that said everything was fine and everything would be fine in the future.
But no, it said more. A sadness lurked behind the kind calm like the blackness that you know is beneath the beautiful blue of the ocean. Michael didn't— couldn't— know what caused such sadness; everything going on in his own life, everything happening outside of this small space he now inhabited—how could this creature be bothered with any of it? The problems of mortals?
Michael turned his head for the first time
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