Page 179 of Wallflower
Chelsea moves out of the way, and Bucky takes her place. He mirrors my movements, sliding his hand beneath Rose’s knees, and one behind her back. Slowly, we shift across the slick floor.
Rose bucks in our hold, coming back to the present, howling in agony. My ears ring, chest caving in because there’s nothing I can do.
“Shhh, baby. You’re going to be okay.”
“It hurts,” she whines, a tear breaking from the corner of her eye.
“I know, just a bit longer. Chelsea patched you up, it’s all going to be okay.” Bucky and I lay her down on the cushions, a wince scrawling across her perfect face.
Gently, I brush the dark hair from her brow, placing a kiss to her temple.
Bucky slides back, allowing Chelsea to take his place next to her sister’s side. She takes Rose’s hand in hers.
Sirens ring in the distance. “I’m going to meet Phoebe when she gets here,” Bucky says, slipping from the room.
“Open the garage door,” I call out.
He doesn’t reply, but I hear the rattling of the heavy door rising.
Rose grips my hand. “What is it?”
She smiles through a hacking cough, “You’re my… highlight reel.”
“What?”
Chelsea cracks a sob, wiping her face with crimson stained hands. Her tears track through the blood, leaving white streaks down her cheeks. “I know, you’re mine too. I’m so sorry.”
“N-no,” Rose stammers, “you, Rip. It’s you.”
Pain and shock scrawl across Chelsea’s face, souring her sadness.
“What’s a fucking highlight reel?” I snap, not liking being out of the loop.
“It’s all of your best memories.” Chelsea replies, as the sirens wail louder, seconds counting down.
Her carefully crafted words slide like a key into a lock, and I look to my love lying before me. “Flower, don’t talk like that, you’re not fucking leaving me. You can’t. I just found you.”
Rose raises her other hand, and I catch it. Bringing it to my mouth, I place a long kiss. I work to hold back the emotions threatening to break through this flimsily constructed dam, it’s a battle I’m never going to win.
“I’ll find you again,” she whispers.
“You will, but not yet, we still have this life to live.”
The commotion outside peaks, vehicle doors slamming, Bucky shouting orders.
Looking to Rose, her head lolls, eyes falling shut. “You hear that, flower? They’re here. Help’s coming.”
Her lips barely move as she murmurs her response. “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
No one truly knows what happens when we die. Sure, there are claims from those that walked the line between life and death, even kids that claim to remember their previous lives before being born anew. I’ve heard the stories, even dug into the research behind it that science can’t totally explain. I didn’t know what to expect, but of all the things to experience, this is the worst.
Ripley breaks apart before my very eyes as I hang limp from his embrace. The paramedics force their way in, trying to pry him from my body. He relinquishes his hold as Bucky’s arms band around his chest, dragging him across the room while he wails a mournful cry. It shreds me apart as I watch from the sidelines, my soul separated from my body.
The paramedics place my body in the only area free of carnage, as Rip’s doctor friend strides into the room. The sight of her flickers some sort of recognition in my brain. I don’t know if it’s because I’m dying that I can’t remember her, or that I was an empty husk when she and I met after escaping Bleakcrest.
She drops to her knees opposite of the man performing CPR as another worker taps my vein for an IV. Holding her palm up, “Stop,” she instructs, and he ceases compressions. She presses her fingers to the side of my neck as her ear hovers above my lips. “Get the defibrillator,” she says to the man. He spins in place, taking the machine from the woman waiting patiently at his back.
The doctor preps the paddles while the paramedic cuts my shirt up the middle. The machine whirrs electronically as it charges up, a bright orange light flashing.
