. . .
. . .
It's getting harder to breathe.
Looking up, I can see light. It's gleaming through the cracks in the rubble. Lingering clouds of dust wash it out, turn it gray, but it's sunlight all the same. It spills through the ruins of the fallen tunnel, filling the cold underground with at least the impression of warmth. I can't feel it – but I know it's there.
I take it in for what I know will be the last time. One last long look at what little of the world I can still see. What a terrifying thought to take with you. Knowing that you will never see that sun again, feel its heat on your skin, watch it rise from behind the shadow of the dark cityscape. The last thing I ever saw. The sun. Ironic that it should be such a cold comfort.
I would have liked it to be him. It would've been more comfortable to die in his arms, where it's always been warm and safe. No tears. No melodrama. Just a whispered goodbye that only I would be able to hear and I'd take it with me just as quietly.
A part of me doesn't want to believe it, and John might have said that's the fighter in me talking – but the truth is always hard to swallow. Even if there was someone here to dig me out, I wouldn't let them. Not even John himself. I don't believe in letting people save me. It always has to be me – or no one at all.
I can feel the blood pouring out. I'm slipping away with it. It's hard to tell from where, or how much of me has gone already, but something tells me I don't want to know. Death is even harder to accept than the truth. I suppose it's natural to struggle, hold on tight to the only thing you ever had in this world that was constant and sure. I don't want to die. No one does.
There's still so much left to do. I suppose I'll take them down with me, those half-finished dreams of mine. If John were here, he'd understand. That I tried – tried to find my mother, tried to make it out of this city alive, find a piece of quiet country somewhere far away where I could finally settle down. I let out a cold, thin laugh at the thought – all the promises I'd made were to myself. All my life I'd protected my heart from the world, knowing it would only break it. Funny that I should be the one to let myself down in the end. Irony really is a cold son of a bitch.
My fingers loosen their grip on a jagged piece of broken concrete. The hand falls. I barely feel it as it collides with hard stone. Overhead, the daylight seems to darken. I slump over and let my insides fill with blood.
I'm not afraid.
I'm not bitter.
I did everything I could.
I just wish he were here…so I could say goodbye.
(I just saw TDKR today and oh my god...John Blake. Be still my dear heart! Anyway, this is different from my usual flowery style. I want this story to be about humanity. How fragile it is and how complex it can be. And so, this story is told by a human being. A girl who just wanted happiness. Who's life started out hard, and she had to fight for everything she had. Love can sometimes contradict everything we ever wanted and change our perspective. So, I hope I can demonstrate the deep feelings I am having for this character...how fragile and complex she is, no matter how hard her exterior. I do hope you enjoy this story. Please let me know if you'd be interested in reading it. :] )
disclaimer - i don't own john blake. only my character.