Invisible string~ Matthew Fairchild {1}

Eighteen

Matthew turned to Amelia. "Sit down. Save your energy, Lia."

She went to sit down, but something—someone— caught her attention. Dark hair, big smile, hazel eyes the same as Amelia's. Her breath hitched. Could it be—?

"Amelia?"

"Matthew," she said, not moving her eyes for fear her sister would disappear. "Do you see?"

"What are you seeing?" Cordelia asked.

Amelia began to walk towards Barbara. "My sister—"

Matthew yelped and Amelia could hear a distant thud, but all she could see was Barbara. Her sister, with her pleasant smile and her arms open, as if she was inviting her to the other side.

But then she was gone, and black spots slowly creeped into Amelia's vision. Pain washed over her body, blocking her senses until it was all she felt. She allowed herself to silently drop to the floor, writhing in pain.

Matthew was at her side in an instant. "Amelia—"

"What about James? Is he back?"

"No. Cordelia went through the archway. She's with him now."

More of her vision was turning black. "Matthew, if I die, tell Thomas—"

She heard a scream. Lucie. She was by Amelia's side in an instant, frantically drawing iratzes on her cousin. "Amelia, can you hear me?"

"Lucie, is this it? W-will I see her again?" Amelia's voice, despite the circumstances, was full of hope. If she got to see Barbara again, dying was worth it.

"What is she talking about?" Lucie asked, turning towards Matthew.

"She said she saw her sister."

"What happened?"

"Christopher must have scratched her—"
Matthew cut off as screams came from the sky. Everyone immediately left Amelia's side, forgetting about her completely.

Was this how she died? Alone, with no one to comfort her in her final moments? It certainly fit her life: years of struggling, never saying anything to anybody. Years of being someone other than herself. She never even mentioned her pain to her parabatai.

She would have done things differently if she knew she would die so young. She took everything for granted; she thought that her life would be a long one, and that she had plenty of time to accomplish her goals.

If she knew she were to die at seventeen, she would have lived. Truly lived. She would have shown her poems to her friends, maybe even the world. She would have followed her dreams, had she known they would be gone so soon.

She would have been completely honest—both with herself and those around her. She would have shared her pain with her brother, and hopefully he would share his pain with her.

Thomas. Surely he felt the pain she was in. She had heard stories from her Uncle Will about the agony of losing a parabatai. He had spoken of the pain, both physical and emotional, and how it racked through your body. The knowledge that your partner in battle was gone. Amelia had always secretly hoped Thomas would be the first to die so he would never have to go through that.

Her eyelids were growing heavier by the second. As she began to surrender to the darkness, the last thing she saw was a flash of gold, rushing in her direction. "Amelia!"

"Matthew?" She whispered.

He lifted her into his lap. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't be," Amelia said, nearly choking on her own words. "I get it. You had to help James. I would've done the same for Thomas. Tell him I'm sorry."