she looks up at me and gasps. a sharp intake of breath. Fear. i can see it in her eyes. her lips tremble, the pale skin of her soft cheeks peppered with her own blood. “Gabriel,” she tries to whisper, but no sound escapes her throat. i cling tightly to her, willing her not to fall. willing her to smile and laugh like we used to, studying the snow globes she collected when I was a child. but her face is paling. her lips are turning an ashy blue. i tighten my grasp and she hisses in pain. i glance down at my hands, one on her shoulder, the other--- Oh, God! my fingers falter slightly, their grasp on the pair of scissors loosening. my gaze travels along the slender tool, over the curved hoops and down the body until it suddenly stops, the other end no longer visible, the sharpened blades buried in her chest. my heart beats faster, and i choke, my body rebelling against itself. i blink rapidly, shaking my head, the glasses perched on my nose slipping off my face as i attempt to make sense of things. i subconsciously release my hold on the polished utensil, and she staggers backwards, a hand reaching for the lethal blade. her eyes are drifting, vacant. i reach out to take her in my arms when she looks back up at me. my lips tremble and i swallow the bile that begins to form at the back of my throat. her gaze is one of betrayal and death. she stumbles, falling. i reach out to catch her, or at least i tell myself to, but my feet don’t obey. i am in an internal struggle with myself as she nears the ground, her body moving in slow motion. her right hip hits first, and the floor shudders as her head and shoulder follow close behind. i drop beside her, breathless. she doesn’t move, but her body continues to function, blood slipping from her wound and onto the floor. “Mother,” I whisper. but she’s already gone.
Part Time Lord, part Vulcan, I spend most of my time ogling men twice my age and trying to create a "wood" setting on my sonic screwdriver.
"When I was a kid, I used to wish some stranger would come and tell me my family wasn't really my family. They weren't bad people, they were just... insignificant. And I wanted to be different. Special. I wanted to change. A new name, a new life. The watchmaker's son became a watchmaker. It is so futile. And I wanted to be... important."