Chapter Ten

                                    

                                          



Jenna would be killed tomorrow. This fact hung heavy between her and Reagan. They'd been dancing around the topic all morning. But how did one broach the subject of one's pending death?
Reagan- by no intention of her own- had never been good at dealing with these emotional, depressing affairs. She'd been through too much shit. Her life had desensitised her.
Amidst Jenna's bouts of lucidity, Reagan watched her fear of the morning play out across her face.
"I'm scared," Jenna declared eventually. Letting it out was like shrugging a huge weight off her shoulders. The redhead seemed to relax a little, though not much.
Come on Reagan. There had to be some form of sympathy within her. What would she want someone to tell her if this were the other way around?
Nothing.
Reagan would rather dwell in misery and silence than face half-assed promises of everything being okay in the end.
"You'll be fine." A for effort, though her execution was poor. Execution. What a timely reminder.
"What if it hurts?" Jenna asked.
Reagan shrugged. "You've probably been through worse pain."
This kind of death would be fast. Much faster than what this disease would do to Jenna if it was left to live out its course. Really, her execution was a mercy. Though that didn't feel like the most comforting of things to say.
"What if there's nothing after all this?" Jenna fretted, fright still marring her tone.
"Hallelujah I say."
"What if there is somewhere and I go to the bad place?"
Reagan sighed. She liked Jenna, but this sappy shit didn't sit right with her. She wasn't good at it. "You're working yourself up into a state. Hang onto this. Nothing can be worse than what you've already been through."
"Is that what you'll tell yourself?"
Reagan didn't tell her she had no intention of dying. And thanks to her little agreement with the General- assuming he pulled through on his end- she wouldn't die. Though she was prepared to save herself if the General failed her.
Reagan had learnt to expect the worst already.
"I've been saying it my whole life," She answered. "Chin up buttercup. You can't look sad for your own funeral. At least you'll be going down with your marbles."
Or what was left of them.
Jenna would be lucky to lose sight of the present when they came down with the chop. Or whatever publicly humiliating way the vampire leaders decided to end her.
She'd be better off not knowing what was happening.
A weak sigh left Jenna's body. Almost like a cry. A lonely one at that. "I thought I'd live forever."
An easy trap for immortals to fall into- but death came for the undying eventually.
"Forever sounds lonely and exhausting," Reagan said, brushing the dreariness aside. "This is a good thing."
"Yeah. I guess so. I just wish I'd have had something, y'know. What do I have to count for my life?"
Reagan shuffled uncomfortably. She didn't want to think about this. She didn't want to apply that logic to herself.
What would I be leaving behind?
A dangerous question she didn't want the answer to.
"You have your stories," She offered, though she knew already Jenna's stories wouldn't circulate.