[Great heroes need great sorrows and burden or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It’s all part of the fairy tale—Peter S. Beagle]


Too Late
Too Late
Too Late

The words thundered in his head. They set the tempo for a heart that was racing too quickly and overrode the need to breath.

She was so still, so cold, his lips pressed against hers, fingers searching for a pulse that wasn’t there. “Please,” he murmured against her skin over and over again. God wouldn’t be so cruel. This couldn’t happen again, wouldn’t happen again.

“You’re too late, Peter. Again. Or maybe, you killed her. She’s not as strong as you. She’s just. Like. Me. “

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “Go away. Go away. Go away.”

“Is that any way to treat a girl you broke promises for?” There was a maliciousness in her voice that had never been there in life. “And to think, if you hadn’t broke that promise, I’d still be alive today.” There was a pause and Peter thought for a moment, she’d gone away. “But she wouldn’t.”

He opened his eyes, flinching at the words. He could see the blonde out of the corner of her eye, neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

“What sort of promises did you break for her, Peter? Maybe it was the one where you promised yourself you’d never fall in love again, the one you made the day of my funeral. Tsk, tsk, you knew she’d end up this way, Bug Boy. You knew and you did it anyway.” She drew a broken heart in the frost on the glass before continuing. “Don’t sweat it. One dead girl,” a shrug, “two. You might have a whole harem of us before you graduate from college.”

Her body burned cold against him as he hunched over it, protective against the blonde’s accusations. He knew they were justified. He’d killed her and now he’d killed Bethel.

The body in his arms pulled away to take her place next to Gwen, arms crossed over a chest that no longer fell and rose with breath. “I trusted you.”

“Your first mistake.”

“I thought you could keep me safe.”

“Me too.”

“Peter…Peter…Peter!”

It wasn’t her screaming that woke him up or the way she shook him. It was her hands, warm against his skin. His eyes flew open and for a moment, he scrambled backwards, the words of the dead girls still ringing in his head. Once the sleep cleared from his mind, he noticed her cheeks flushed with color, her eyes bright with life and he reached up to place his hand at the curve of her neck, her pulse jumping wilding against his fingertips.