Elvis Moreau (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wasblindbefore) wrote2013-08-19 01:18 pm
wasblindbefore) wrote2013-08-19 01:18 pm
Entry tags:
you forget there's so much more
The first night, he dreams about her dying.
That in itself shouldn't be so unusual. When he dreams, in the rare instances that he remembers them, they're not often very cheerful, and it isn't like he hasn't imagined this before. Gwen told him once, in no uncertain terms, what was going to happen to her back home, and it isn't as if that's something he could have so easily shaken. The difference is that, now, in the wake of her disappearance, it no longer seems like something that could be avoided. She's gone back to that fate, and there isn't going to be a damn thing he can do to stop it, an entire universe away.
He sees it, though, her body floating down the river — except he's watching from the bridge back in Coward, Texas, and her body looks like his mother's did, recognizable only because of her blonde hair fanned out in the water. He hears Anabelle's voice in his head after that, though it's wrong, he knows, distorted; she's taunting him, saying only what he's thinking. "That's one more gone, Elvis," she says, and though he can't see her, he can hear the smirk in her voice, cruel in a way that Anabelle never would have been. "How many more miracles did you think you were going to get?"
After that, he jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest, and reaches for his phone, as if this might be some mistake and she'll have returned one of his calls. There's nothing, though, and it's the final straw, the last thing he needs to know that he's right. Gwen is gone, back to the death that awaits her, and he's lost someone else, just as was always going to have been inevitable.
When he makes his way over to her place, not for the first time, it's significantly later, after he's called out of work and had a drink. He needs one, if he's going to deal with this shit. He probably shouldn't be at all, he knows, but like hell is he just going to leave all her things for a coworker to come pick up or her landlord to get rid of or something like that. That in mind, he's expecting to have to talk his way in, that it won't be easy. What he isn't expecting is for someone else to be getting there when he is. Instinctively, he bristles, back and shoulders going tense, the look he shoots the kid a wary one. Ordinarily, he wouldn't mind this, knowing that Gwen has plenty of friends, but right now, it seems unfair, like an infringement on what ought to be his job to do. "Who're you?"
That in itself shouldn't be so unusual. When he dreams, in the rare instances that he remembers them, they're not often very cheerful, and it isn't like he hasn't imagined this before. Gwen told him once, in no uncertain terms, what was going to happen to her back home, and it isn't as if that's something he could have so easily shaken. The difference is that, now, in the wake of her disappearance, it no longer seems like something that could be avoided. She's gone back to that fate, and there isn't going to be a damn thing he can do to stop it, an entire universe away.
He sees it, though, her body floating down the river — except he's watching from the bridge back in Coward, Texas, and her body looks like his mother's did, recognizable only because of her blonde hair fanned out in the water. He hears Anabelle's voice in his head after that, though it's wrong, he knows, distorted; she's taunting him, saying only what he's thinking. "That's one more gone, Elvis," she says, and though he can't see her, he can hear the smirk in her voice, cruel in a way that Anabelle never would have been. "How many more miracles did you think you were going to get?"
After that, he jolts awake, heart pounding in his chest, and reaches for his phone, as if this might be some mistake and she'll have returned one of his calls. There's nothing, though, and it's the final straw, the last thing he needs to know that he's right. Gwen is gone, back to the death that awaits her, and he's lost someone else, just as was always going to have been inevitable.
When he makes his way over to her place, not for the first time, it's significantly later, after he's called out of work and had a drink. He needs one, if he's going to deal with this shit. He probably shouldn't be at all, he knows, but like hell is he just going to leave all her things for a coworker to come pick up or her landlord to get rid of or something like that. That in mind, he's expecting to have to talk his way in, that it won't be easy. What he isn't expecting is for someone else to be getting there when he is. Instinctively, he bristles, back and shoulders going tense, the look he shoots the kid a wary one. Ordinarily, he wouldn't mind this, knowing that Gwen has plenty of friends, but right now, it seems unfair, like an infringement on what ought to be his job to do. "Who're you?"
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"Do you have a key for her place?"
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