@kingunwind technically he didn’t die but i wanted 2 write sad risa

   with piano keys beneath her fingers, it’s easier to breath. it feels as if some of the weight on her shoulders is lifted, some of the worry, some of the grief. it’s easier to ignore these things when she’s completely focused on another task. it’s easier to breath.

   she does her best to never look down at the red path below. it’s too great of a reminder of the only future she had in store, the only future any of these kids had in store. it was too cruel to think about, brought bile to her throat - so her eyes remain on the keys, and her thoughts trained on anything but the opening and closing of the heavy doors below.

   until, of course, one day it’s not something to be ignored. the doors to the chop shop demand her attention, the sound of yelling below. her stomach churns before she truly even realizes what she’s hearing.

             ❛ it’s the akron awol, ❜ one of the kids shouts, ❛ he’s being unwound ! ❜

                                                  it’s hard to breathe.

   her fingers slip, and the chord strikes into an ugly sound. the cry that leaves her is an even more ugly sound, something so terribly agonized as she lurches forward. because this couldn’t be, shouldn’t be happening. she shouldn’t see connor on the path to death, and yet she does. through hazy eyes, she can see how his step falters, a tiny slip in the bravado he was slinging around. the moment is gone so suddenly, replaced with a tiny moment of eye contact, just long enough for him to blow a kiss in her direction. her only response is a snarl, anger flashing on her face. this couldn’t be the last time she saw him, she refused. she refused, and refused, and continued to refuse ( though her sobs sounded more like an acceptance ). she refuses all through his journey right through those damned doors, and suddenly, she almost feels like she’s suffocating. now, someone else will have connor’s body. his hands will be on another person’s arms, his eyes in another person’s head. the realization is enough to cut one of her dwindling cries into a retch.