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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: It belongs to the creators of the Pretender and whoever else owns the Pretender. So don’t sue!
Authors Note: Like it, Hate it? Should I continue? Let me know!!! Also G&V and E&L will be continued this summer. G&V is almost completed. =) YAY!!!
Love, Death & Roses
2 - Too Late for Miracles
By Apollo’s Girl
Months have passed since her death. And I stand here at her tomb stone. A simple black piece of marble engraved with her name and her endearments. “Loving Daughter, Friend and Sister Miss Parker 1999” I place a single red rose on her stone like I did for our mother. I feel no remorse for killing her. She had asked for it. Now I know you must be looking at me in shock and wonder how I could say such a thing with such calm and flippancy. The only reason for it is that it’s the truth. The plain and simple truth.
She had asked for it, beseeched me to do it. What? Is probably the response you are forming. Fitting, since that seemed to be her favorite response. What? Honestly I think that was what should have been printed on her stone. But I digress.
Yes she came to me to help her end her suffering, her damnation in hell. After all, am I not the devil incarnate? Who else could free her soul from the place but the keeper of it?
In truth I did not want to help at first. Then I thought that perhaps there was something to this that I could use to my advantage, to wield her into my power and make her enslaved to me. Then I realized I was just kidding myself. My sister would never do anything to willing put herself into someone else’s power. She was already too far entrapped by her own heart to several different men. She would not add me to the list, so back to square one of not wanting to help.
Then she did it, the one thing that would make me her slave, to turn me from enemy to ally. She gave me our mother…
She would come to me unexpectedly at night and would tell me about her. Hours, upon hours of talk about our mother. What she was like, how she smelled, how she loved. And she would become her for me. Holding me, singing the same songs, telling the same stories as our mother told her.
It got to be where I would call her when I felt scared or worried. Yes, I do feel despite what it may seem. And she would come, no questions asked. I would just open the door and she would walk in and hold me. She would walk me to the bed and give that smile of hers. She’d start to sing a lullaby with my head in her lap as she smoothed my hair and once again I was a little boy.
I was Bobby.
I was Bobby with my true mother. The one who should have comforted me, the one who should have raised me. So my sister gave me our mother. Gave me the comfort and the security that I never felt.
So I gave my sister freedom. Freedom from the burden she felt. The heaviness and darkness that wouldn’t go away. I pulled that trigger that made her fall. I was the one who watched as the rose petals fell onto her like the feathers of a fallen angel. I feel no remorse for it. For a miracle happened.
A miracle that was too late for everyone else, but her and me. A miracle that we could only give each other.
Her rebirth.
Authors Note: Like it, Hate it? Should I continue? Let me know!!! Also G&V and E&L will be continued this summer. G&V is almost completed. =) YAY!!!
Love, Death & Roses
2 - Too Late for Miracles
By Apollo’s Girl
Months have passed since her death. And I stand here at her tomb stone. A simple black piece of marble engraved with her name and her endearments. “Loving Daughter, Friend and Sister Miss Parker 1999” I place a single red rose on her stone like I did for our mother. I feel no remorse for killing her. She had asked for it. Now I know you must be looking at me in shock and wonder how I could say such a thing with such calm and flippancy. The only reason for it is that it’s the truth. The plain and simple truth.
She had asked for it, beseeched me to do it. What? Is probably the response you are forming. Fitting, since that seemed to be her favorite response. What? Honestly I think that was what should have been printed on her stone. But I digress.
Yes she came to me to help her end her suffering, her damnation in hell. After all, am I not the devil incarnate? Who else could free her soul from the place but the keeper of it?
In truth I did not want to help at first. Then I thought that perhaps there was something to this that I could use to my advantage, to wield her into my power and make her enslaved to me. Then I realized I was just kidding myself. My sister would never do anything to willing put herself into someone else’s power. She was already too far entrapped by her own heart to several different men. She would not add me to the list, so back to square one of not wanting to help.
Then she did it, the one thing that would make me her slave, to turn me from enemy to ally. She gave me our mother…
She would come to me unexpectedly at night and would tell me about her. Hours, upon hours of talk about our mother. What she was like, how she smelled, how she loved. And she would become her for me. Holding me, singing the same songs, telling the same stories as our mother told her.
It got to be where I would call her when I felt scared or worried. Yes, I do feel despite what it may seem. And she would come, no questions asked. I would just open the door and she would walk in and hold me. She would walk me to the bed and give that smile of hers. She’d start to sing a lullaby with my head in her lap as she smoothed my hair and once again I was a little boy.
I was Bobby.
I was Bobby with my true mother. The one who should have comforted me, the one who should have raised me. So my sister gave me our mother. Gave me the comfort and the security that I never felt.
So I gave my sister freedom. Freedom from the burden she felt. The heaviness and darkness that wouldn’t go away. I pulled that trigger that made her fall. I was the one who watched as the rose petals fell onto her like the feathers of a fallen angel. I feel no remorse for it. For a miracle happened.
A miracle that was too late for everyone else, but her and me. A miracle that we could only give each other.
Her rebirth.
