| a broken-neck sense of mortality |
[04 Dec 2008|07:57pm] |
Seamus was shaking. There were a few stinging tears in his eyes, but he wasn't crying. He wasn't screaming in pain. He wasn't wandering up and down the aisles looking for his friends. He was sitting in a chair, elbows on his knees, and shaking as he waited for the body on the cot to wake up.
He knew it was Lavender, logically. He could see her and recognize her face, but between the pale color of her skin against sharp lumps of bruises, and the bandages slowly seeping red, it was hard to associate this body with Lavender, his Lavender.
He pressed his lips together tightly and shut his eyes and continued his mantra of lavender wake up lavender please wake up, willing it to happen.
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