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Alice's vision warped at the edges. Greys and dull browns were all the colors to go around, a lifeless reflection of-
"Let's do this."
When the glass shattered, the dread growing in her gut pushed up and snatched at her throat. She choked on it.
This was all for nothing, wasn't it? They risked their lives, may never make it out of the mirror realm, and Eliot would still die.
She was aware of what she'd done. Alice knew the mistakes she made, but why did they have to suffer because of them? Quentin, Elliot; none of them deserved this.
Why is it that every single time she tried to fix something, she made it worse?
Quentin was a nerd, a dork, stuttered when he was excited, stuttered when he was nervous, but he was brave. He always had been, and it's what kept him alive this long. This time it killed him.
She killed him.
Penny's arms wrapped around her waist and held her tight, jostling the bile that had begun rising ever since Everett entered the room. He pulled her out, pulled her away, didn't let her finally fix what she had done , and it cost her. A million beautiful gold lights burst from the air, shooting through everything in the room. Quentin ran, but he wasn't fast enough. Time slowed down when she screamed, and he turned to look at her, his eyes wide in shock as those little lights shot through him. Black wisp exploded from inside his body high in the air, his outstretched arm the only thing she could see until the smoke and gold hid that away from her too.
And she fell apart.
Tears blurred her vision, and it felt like bees zipping towards her, stingers pinned to her eyes. All Alice could feel was pain, blooming from her chest and spreading to the rest of her body. Blood roared through her ears, ringing in her head like the echoes of her sobs.
Something clawed at her insides, tangled themselves around her lungs, and squeezed. Alice couldn't breathe, couldn't shield herself from it.
Quentin was dead.
Quentin was dead, and she wanted to die too.
Her fingertips tapped against each other, her hands shivering. She stood up straight, head held high, but after a few minutes, it was simply too tiring, and she moved to the back of the group to lean against a trunk.
The tree towered over her, and she felt pathetic standing by it. The sun was setting, but it was still bright out. Faintly, she recognized people moving towards the front, closer to him, and she followed, dazed.
As she turned, she saw Eliot and Margo nearby, walking towards the dug-up grave. She watched them throw their flowers on the casket, and after she did too, she almost reached her arm out to tap Margo's shoulder. To give condolences, say sorry, be a decent person. Then she just... didn't.
She hadn't been sleeping. Well, she didn't much before, but now she didn't eat either. Clothes were strewn all over the floor - her mother gave up on cleaning her room for her a few weeks ago. She hadn't moved from her bed in days.
She feels tired.
She could feel him when the walls turned to speak. Could hear his voice echo their words. Could see his fingerprints on coffee mugs she was too sad to use, could see him in places she never stayed long enough to- well.
Stephanie convinced her to go grab some coffee with her at a nearby café.
Alice decided to dress up for the occasion of going out for the first time in forever. She washed her hair and put on her most elegant coat. Her hands shook so badly she spent ages applying mascara and redoing her lip gloss.
She stepped inside, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. It was very mundane. Few people littered the area, standing by counters for their drinks, sitting in chairs with laptops, lounging on a couch stuffed in a corner. Stephanie walked further in line, murmuring about pastries, but Alice hesitated.
Fear suddenly washed over her. She became scared for the people here, for this place. Everything she thought and everything she was would infect these people as it did her. It'd crawl over everything like insects, like cockroaches on the wall. Like the lice hiding in Plover's hair, like the Chatwin family she couldn't help, the Chatwin children Alice thought she could save in the first place - what had she been thinking? Elliot was right all that time ago; who the fuck did she think she really was, besides some arrogant little twat-
She decided she'd wait for Stephanie to order outside. She'd try again later.
She never did.
Rain drips down her face and onto her shoes. She didn't bother bringing an umbrella, which was stupid of her because now she was soaked through her clothes.
Quentin's face eats at her soul. She drops to her knees in front of his empty grave. Her face scrunches up in aching pain, and she sobs, but there are no tears.
She'd been crushed into a million tiny pieces, a million golden lights pierced through her body - arms, legs, chest, chopping through her hair. Tears in Quentin's eyes as he was shoved back out of the mirror realm, stuck to dreams of the future they tried to build together. He probably would've been happier with Eliot anyway.
She almost chuckled at the thought. It should've been her.
She feels tired.
Alice stood over the well. Grief came back, crawling up her arms and to her head. It stayed there, a pressure clutching her shoulders, refusing to let her go.
Exhaustion draped over her body like a blanket, nothing more than another heavyweight on her shoulders. She couldn't wait to be set free.
She shivered, and her hands shook. Quentin's soul slipped out of her grasp, cut through the air, and down, down, until she couldn't see it anymore.
Alice looked to see Eliot's rosy tear-streaked cheeks, and her fingers twitched at the want to wipe them away. She wanted to sing him a lullaby, anything to make it better because he didn't deserve this - it should've been her.
Instead, she looked away from his pained expression. She's never been this... this empty before. She could feel everything and nothing at once. She felt the void in her, around her, the thin air cold and crisp as she took a breath. Her lungs were flooded - full of cigarette smoke, of Quentin, and it burned .
She wonders if Eliot feels the same way. If he feels tired like she does.
"He was pretty in love with you." Surprisingly, she didn't hate saying that. She had predicted she'd spit at the thought, at the idea it wasn't her, maybe never was, but she really doesn't mind. If anything, it took off some of the pressure, and she suddenly feels closer to Quentin, like she's in on a secret.
It was part of him. Alice accepted that.
Eliot's mouth twisted into a strange smile, his voice thick as he says he doesn't really believe her.
She wants to cradle him from the world like she failed to do before, but it's not really her place, so she just hopes he can see it in her eyes.
Alice and Eliot held the letter together and watched it fall into the darkness.
She feels lighter.