|Death, Sex and New York
Author: lashlaruey PM
What would've happened if Samantha cancer returned and she died? Morbid but I thought it'd be interesting. Chapter 7 published.Rated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Friendship - Chapters: 6 - Words: 6,258 - Reviews: 26 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 5 - Updated: 12-12-11 - Published: 06-17-10 - id: 6060279
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
What would've happened if Samantha's cancer returned and she died? Morbid but I thought it'd be interesting. Set a couple of months after the Finale, the day after Samantha's death. (The movies don't exist in this universe, I don't like them lol.)
Carrie Bradshaw feels a hand stroke the left side of her face. It is is soft, comforting and she knows exactly who it belongs to. She opens her eyes to reveal Samantha's face, and she's never seen her look more beautiful; her eyes bright and warm, her skin glowing with radiance, her loose golden hair glistening in the morning sun. Samantha gives her a small wink, and Carrie smiles lovingly back.
Carrie's eyes open slowly, as though she's struggling with the weight of her eyelids. Big's face comes into view. It wasn't Samantha's hand that had been touching her face, it was his. Realization had come harshly into play. Her stomach churns as she feels herself crashing down to the truth, to reality, all without leaving her bed. Samantha was dead. This was the morning after.
"Hey," Big whispers to her, his face etched with sympathy. She'd never seen that expression on his face before, just as he'd never seen her face look so gaunt and emotionless. Even after seven and a half hours sleep her face displayed the remains of how horrifically white and grief stricken it had been the night before. It was an image that was forever dwell in Big's memory.
"Was it a dream?" She replies, knowing full well how much the events of last night were so raw in her memory it would be impossible to mistake it for one. However, it was the only way she could bring herself to address it.
Big shakes his head apologetically, "no kid." She turns herself away from him and stares at the ceiling, at the faint cracks she'd always meant to get fixed, and whispers into the air, "shit." She closes her eyes, immersing herself in the blackness underneath her eyelids, away from New York, away from reality, away from the truth; the only place she could bare being right now.
Sorry this is short, but if you like it please review so I know whether to continue ;)