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<center><div class="lucreziagradient"><div class="lucrezialayout"><div class="lucreziaquote"><center>Here it comes with no warning; capsize, i'm first in the water</center></div><div class=lucreziapost>Nothing.
There had been nothing.
<I>Was there always nothing?</I> She wonders.
Nothing but the darkness surrounded her. Engulfed by the blackness, the dark void. She was numb, so very numb. Her heart felt so heavy, but it was empty. She could not feel anything—could not remember what it was like to feel.
But she always remembered.
She remembers the music. The song of magic and love that consumed her. The notes that orchestrated her ending from the devilish monster—the song of her death.
<I>No I am not dead,</i> she thinks.
There was screaming. The blood cries of death that deafened her. She was screaming—so loud but never heard. Her cries for help, her pleas to be heard, were never heard.
Her cries were only met with laughter. Her pleas were met with pain and bloodshed. There had been so much of it, so much pain and blood. It spread fast like wildfire across every inch of her body. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel the air in her lungs as she hit the ground. The air was knocked out of her with every hit and with every blow was followed with laughter.
<I>“You are not worthy,”</i> he told her.
He—the horned devil—never stopped laughing at her. Every part of him exploded with delight with every hit and blow on her. He loved the horror on her face and the screams that filled her lungs. The song of her death he played filled her with fear, sending her into a hysteria of terror.
<I>No I cannot die!</I> She would never allow it to happen.
Yet, the fear became her strength in those terrifying moments. She had to get away, to protect something. <I>Protect what?</i> She cannot remember but only knowing it was her strength, her reason to fight to live another day. She scrambled away, missing a blow as he lunged at her.
All she remembers then is running. Running through the dark shadowed forest. Forever she ran until she felt the sharp air fill her lungs. The cold breeze of the wind on her face. The salty ocean and death filling her nostrils.
She can feel the water against her limbs as the waves crash around her. The fear within her fades as she realizes what is to come. She remembers this part. It’s so vivid in her mind as if she has relived it a thousand times.
She accepts it—her death is to come as it always has.
As she turns from the ocean, she meets her god. The god that weighed the worth of her life. She accepts his answer with every touch and word spoken to her. Perhaps she was always meant to die like this. Then the finally blow comes hard and quick, and she lays on the bone-bleached beach.
<i>No, not like this,</i> she thinks.
She was dead.
But it was not the ending—only the beginning of something new.
She remembers lying there and the blackness returning. But it doesn't come. She doesn't remember this part.
The small cries of something new and beautiful—the birth of life. It hits her now as she realizes not what she was protecting but who—her beautiful little baby girl. <i>My sweet darling, Eva. My home.</i> She thinks as she looks at her daughter. It fills her with hope instantly (a feeling she never thought she would feel again).
The waves quickly come in onto the shore, overlapping and pulling her into the depths of the ocean. With one last look to the bone-bleached beach, her daughter disappears. The ocean current pulls her under more as the waves lap over her and she slowly floats down into the darkness.
She can feel her lungs being filled with saltwater.
Every part of her wants to fight it, but she doesn’t.
<I>Take me back to my daughter,</i> she pleads silently, <I>Take me home</i>.
To Ischia.
The darkness comes once more but it is different this time.</div><div class=lucreziaquote style="padding-top:0px;"><center>...too close to the bottom.</center></div><div class=lucreziapic></div></div></div></center>
<center><div class="lucreziagradient"><div class="lucrezialayout"><div class="lucreziaquote"><center>Here it comes with no warning; capsize, i'm first in the water</center></div><div class=lucreziapost>Nothing.
There had been nothing.
<I>Was there always nothing?</I> She wonders.
Nothing but the darkness surrounded her. Engulfed by the blackness, the dark void. She was numb, so very numb. Her heart felt so heavy, but it was empty. She could not feel anything—could not remember what it was like to feel.
But she always remembered.
She remembers the music. The song of magic and love that consumed her. The notes that orchestrated her ending from the devilish monster—the song of her death.
<I>No I am not dead,</i> she thinks.
There was screaming. The blood cries of death that deafened her. She was screaming—so loud but never heard. Her cries for help, her pleas to be heard, were never heard.
Her cries were only met with laughter. Her pleas were met with pain and bloodshed. There had been so much of it, so much pain and blood. It spread fast like wildfire across every inch of her body. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel the air in her lungs as she hit the ground. The air was knocked out of her with every hit and with every blow was followed with laughter.
<I>“You are not worthy,”</i> he told her.
He—the horned devil—never stopped laughing at her. Every part of him exploded with delight with every hit and blow on her. He loved the horror on her face and the screams that filled her lungs. The song of her death he played filled her with fear, sending her into a hysteria of terror.
<I>No I cannot die!</I> She would never allow it to happen.
Yet, the fear became her strength in those terrifying moments. She had to get away, to protect something. <I>Protect what?</i> She cannot remember but only knowing it was her strength, her reason to fight to live another day. She scrambled away, missing a blow as he lunged at her.
All she remembers then is running. Running through the dark shadowed forest. Forever she ran until she felt the sharp air fill her lungs. The cold breeze of the wind on her face. The salty ocean and death filling her nostrils.
She can feel the water against her limbs as the waves crash around her. The fear within her fades as she realizes what is to come. She remembers this part. It’s so vivid in her mind as if she has relived it a thousand times.
She accepts it—her death is to come as it always has.
As she turns from the ocean, she meets her god. The god that weighed the worth of her life. She accepts his answer with every touch and word spoken to her. Perhaps she was always meant to die like this. Then the finally blow comes hard and quick, and she lays on the bone-bleached beach.
<i>No, not like this,</i> she thinks.
She was dead.
But it was not the ending—only the beginning of something new.
She remembers lying there and the blackness returning. But it doesn't come. She doesn't remember this part.
The small cries of something new and beautiful—the birth of life. It hits her now as she realizes not what she was protecting but who—her beautiful little baby girl. <i>My sweet darling, Eva. My home.</i> She thinks as she looks at her daughter. It fills her with hope instantly (a feeling she never thought she would feel again).
The waves quickly come in onto the shore, overlapping and pulling her into the depths of the ocean. With one last look to the bone-bleached beach, her daughter disappears. The ocean current pulls her under more as the waves lap over her and she slowly floats down into the darkness.
She can feel her lungs being filled with saltwater.
Every part of her wants to fight it, but she doesn’t.
<I>Take me back to my daughter,</i> she pleads silently, <I>Take me home</i>.
To Ischia.
The darkness comes once more but it is different this time.</div><div class=lucreziaquote style="padding-top:0px;"><center>...too close to the bottom.</center></div><div class=lucreziapic></div></div></div></center>
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