𝔻𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕀𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 [Oscar Diaz FF]

【ＰＲＯＬＯＧＵＥ】

| A female's body lay discarded within a double bedded room, seemingly void of any life. Her hair, as black as a raven's wing, spilled in waves across the floor. Blood seeped through the sheer cloth covering her body, her hand bruised and scratched as if she'd fought until her last breath. The door to the room swung open, a smaller female threw inside. Mostly fine, this young girl had only a few bruises dotting her skin. Tears blurred the young girl's vision as she slipped onto the floor beside the first's seemingly lifeless body. "Marisol," the girl spoke, her voice breaking as she scooped the first female into her arms, "I'm so sorry. Please. Please, please don't leave me." Although faint, it seemed as if the smaller female could sense the slow beating heart within Marisol's body. Silence flooded the room, the smaller female sobbing into Marisol's hair.

Minutes seemed to form an hour before the smaller female was able to move, her little body pulling Marisol onto the bed nearest her. She stripped the girl of the sheer gown she wore. She wasn't going to allow her best friend to slip through her fingertips, not without taking her at the very least. Her eyes took in the numerous cuts, bruised handprints, and teeth marks adorning the larger female's body. One could only imagine what Marisol had been through to end up in the state she currently rested in. The smaller female searched the room for anything she would be able to apply to the larger's wounds, eventually settling for a small bottle of honey. She cleaned Marisol's body: doing her best to staple closed what wounds were far too big to leave open. As gruesome as it may have been, the smaller female held hope that her best friend would be okay.

With her task finished, Marisol rested atop her bed bandaged and clothed. A single gown adorned her body, sleeveless straps resting loosely against her shoulders. Even if the young woman were to make it through the night, her body was far too undernourished to allow her to grow better. However, that thought did little in pulling the smaller female from Marisol's bedside. She carefully brushed the larger female's hair, a sad smile resting on her lips. "I know that you wouldn't leave me, Sol. I know that you'd fight, but," the smaller female paused, her eyes lifting to rest on the larger's sunken face. "You don't have to fight if it's too hard for you. I'll understand, I'll follow you anywhere. It's okay." Although talking to the young girl that she looked up to in many ways, it seemed as though the smaller female found solace in hearing her accent echo throughout the room. It made her remember the times she'd shared with the larger female, how Marisol would constantly call her yat cute.

A New Orleans accent, one as thick as blood, the smaller female possessed. However, Marisol had possessed a much more Spanish-like accent. The smaller female thought it was funny at first, but with her best friend clinging to life, she found the little things to be much more meaningful. Marisol was an orphan, parents killed in a raid within the deeper parts of New Orleans. She was a descendant of the Canary Islands, a place that she constantly talked about because of the beauty she said it possessed. Her outlook on life was beautiful until the godmother stepped down from her position at the orphanage the two resided within. If she survived, would she continue to live?