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Trish- Burning Oxygen

Title: Burning Oxygen
Fandom: Harper's Island
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,168
Ship(s)/Character(s): Trish Wellington
Summary: These arms that I once adored hold no more comfort for me.
Notes: Minor sexual content and violence.





These arms that I once adored hold no more comfort for me. Instead of making me feel complete and like I’m floating on air they hold me down like cement blocks and leave me feeling empty and hollow. He whispers to me words I can no longer listen to, too upset and too blinded by it to see anything but the betrayal; too consumed by my own screams and my own tears to listen to what he’s saying. The truth has fallen down like a hammer shattering my heart like my mother’s china; the truth has pulled me asunder, has left my world in chaos and disarray.

It isn’t until I feel the blade, cool and somehow scorching as it enters my side that I even realize that he’s been speaking to me the entire time I tried to pull myself from his arms. Breathing becomes impossible, the oxygen burning my lungs as I try to take them in. and surprisingly the pain in my side is only momentary before my side burns and then just tingles and I can’t feel the blade anymore. I cannot breathe, I cannot cry. I can scarcely see the trees over his shoulder as they turn into blurs of green and brown.

“It’s not fair,” he whispers against my hair. Oh, it isn’t. I can’t even stop myself from agreeing to it because there’s nothing fair about all of this. Nothing fair about having to watch my father’s head get split in two; nothing fair about his father taking my niece hostage; nothing fair about the two of them killing everyone who has ever loved me- who has ever loved him. there’s nothing fair about having the man my heart would beat for shoving a knife into my side, letting me bleed all over it, probably warm against his skin when I can’t even feel it flowing out of me; nothing fair to be in his arms as he kills me in the dress I was set to marry him in.

Not too long ago we lie on the couch in our room at the inn, his arms around me, his mouth against my forehead and I felt content and safe in his embrace; I felt safe from the world outside and the reality that was the horror of this week. For a moment I could pretend that everything was alright; I could lose myself in his eyes and his mouth and the feeling of him inside of me as I made love to him on that couch, celebrating the fact that we were supposed to leave the island together. My dress had laid across out laps and his hands were on my hips and he had looked at me with such love that was all fake, all of it. every kiss, every touch, every whispered word had all been a lie and I had bought it so easily, had devoured it all like a spoiled little child and was so, so confident in the sincerity of it all.

We’re moving then and while I don’t feel it I only know we are because the blurs behind his shoulder start to move. We’re lowering towards the ground, moving slowly like he’s trying to cradle me, to take care of me. It was disgusting and sickeningly ironic and if I could feel anything more than my own thoughts I would probably vomit from the sheer knowledge that even now he’s pretending to care for me, acting so tender as he takes my life away.

And then his face comes into view, so much clearer than the trees had been due to the sheer closeness. He looks like he’s trying not to cry and I can’t help but wonder why he would cry while he kills; can’t help but think that if he didn’t want to he wouldn’t do it, that he wouldn’t have to. And I realize even more then that I never really knew anything real when it came to Henry, never really knew what was true and what he had lied about. I thought he was the only person in the world who I knew as well as I knew myself. Now I know I never really knew him at all.

My arms start to slide away from his shoulders, my limbs suddenly too heavy to stay up anymore. Breathing is becoming harder, the oxygen burning worse than before. I know, without even the tiniest bit of doubt that it’ll all be over soon. Soon he’ll pull that blade from my side and he’ll leave my lying in the dirt in my wedding dress, covered in blood and he’ll walk away.

I think of Shea and Madison; I think of Abby and Jimmy; I think of Danny and Sully and I hope beyond all rational that they make it off of the island. I wish they could hear my thoughts, that I could somehow let them know to run and not look back, that Henry isn’t someone they can trust but I know they can’t hear me and I know that they all trust him with their lives just as I had. Just as I had done so, so foolishly.

His eyes that once made my stomach flutter and made me want to grab onto him and never let go are gazing down at my face. My vision starts to darken around the edges and I wonder where you go when you die, what happens when it’s all over. Will my parents be waiting for me on the other side? Will Beth and Lucy and Chloe be waiting for me? Will my father forgive me for not trusting him when it came to Henry? Will he embrace me and take care of me? Will my friends forgive me for bringing them to this island? If I hadn’t then they wouldn’t have died; if it hadn’t been for my wedding none of them would have died.

I owe J.D. and Sheriff Mills an apology when I get to wherever you go; I have to apologize for thinking they had been the ones killing people. And I need to thank Shane for, despite his hatred for us people that weren’t locals, stepping up and trying to protect us. He knew he couldn’t win and had done so anyway. That deserved a ‘thank you’ at the very least. Not everyone will lay down their life to protect relative strangers.

My vision starts to fade as Henry continues to gaze down at me. Take a good long look, you bastard. I hope my face haunts you wherever you go from now on; I hope you see my eyes following you, that you hear my voice. I hope you dream of my cold, dead fingers wrapping around your throat and squeezing the life from you. You took my heart and now you’re taking my life. Wouldn’t it only be fair for me to take yours?

The world goes dark.

I hope I see everyone else soon.
Tags: trish wellington
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