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irenebullocks · 2 months ago

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""Look, sweetheart, it's Fish. Bet he's missed you."" FISH, MY BELOVED!! Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!

"Something seemed to snap in you, and you swept a hand out, pushing him away. "Stop it, Fish."" Don't be alarmed by that sobbing you hear in the distance, it's just me.

"“Never,” he responded instantly, nudging his lips to your forehead. “You’re a part of me. Lettin’ go of you would be like lettin’ go of my heart.”" Oh there goes my heart again.

"But Fish curled around you like nothing had changed since the night before you were taken, the pleasant vibration of his purring filling the air." 😭

⋆౨ৎ𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓯 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: depression, animal abandonment pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: you aren't the same after you were kidnapped author’s note: I'm half dead, I hope this is good <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

The sky was dark, the grayness of it expanding as far as the eye could see with the promise of rain. It painted everything near in a melancholy shadow, like the world was a ghost of itself.

This was not the way Billy had hoped to bring you home.

As he ushered you through the open space between his horse and the house, standing like a figure in the distance, he noticed the door was ajar. The miniscule detail heightened the already-present guilt inside him, but he pushed it down deep, instead focusing on you.

Rubbing your shoulders comfortingly, Billy ensured your steps were steady as he guided you up the stairs, nudging at the gap in the door with his foot to open it without letting go of you. The deafening quiet of the house met his ears, and he nearly cringed at the emptiness of it. Billy had really only ever known these four walls to hold light and laughter and love, three things always associated with you. The girl under his arm was a mere notion of that, nothing more.

Images of you tied, gagged, and crying invaded Billy's vision, and he tried to shake them away as he shut the door behind you. The last day had been tumultuous, overflowing with worry. Memories didn't come forth, only brief images accompanied by emotion. He'd ridden like mad trying to find you, cursing the roots of the ones who'd taken his girl away from him.

He didn't want to think about that right now. About the bloodbath that had ensued, about the sight of your fear-stricken body taut in his arms. Blinking once, Billy re-twined his arm around you, rubbing your side and dropping a kiss to your silken hair. Still soft after your whole ordeal.

You turned to face him, and he went numb at the look in your eyes. Stolen joy, replaced with an awful replica, a renewed safety that didn't fill near the space of what had been taken. Billy squeezed your hip, lifting his hand to trace the apple of your cheek. "It's okay." They were the only words he could think to breathe into the tension of the air.

The gentle padding of little footsteps descended, and the next thing Billy knew, the body of your cat, fur dark as midnight, was rubbing against his legs, weaving in and around them like the path of a river. A smile crossed Billy as he realized, and he looked to you somewhat excitedly. "Look, sweetheart, it's Fish. Bet he's missed you."

Your body gave a jolt when the cat nudged his furry face into your calf, as if to ask where you'd been. Billy's face fell into worry when you didn't bend to scratch Fish's ears or pick him up as he'd thought you would. Instead, your face was pressed to his chest, fingers clenching the leather of one suspender in an attempt to pull him closer somehow.

Fish seemed put off, sitting on his hind legs and craning his neck up as he meowed. All Billy could do was look helplessly at the little creature over your shoulder, fingers caressing the length of your spine as he attempted to inject comfort into you through his touch. After such a spot of trauma, he'd thought, hoped that your beloved pet would bring you some semblance of normalcy.

The afternoon bled into night, darkening the corners of the earth and further leading you into dread for the sleep ahead. Billy managed to coax you into bed, your spot between his arms beckoning. He promised that you didn't have to sleep, but it'd do you some good to at least lie down. Holding you, he tried to ignore the angry welts where the ropes had stung at your wrists, the marks for which there was no balm except time.

Your eyes were open, hair spread across his chest like a splayed, outstretched wildflower. He sifted his fingers through it, letting the quiet linger. He wore no shirt, knowing how much you loved having his skin right against yours. Maybe it would inspire sleep; that feeling of being comfortable.

Billy hated feeling helpless, but there was hardly anything else to do. there were things floating in your mind that he couldn't fix. There was very little to resolve with his capabilities. For now all he could do was hold you, guarantee your safety.

There was a little mew, and then light pressure on the mattress as Fish sprang up onto the bed. Normally it was a routine- Billy would fix himself against your back, arms slung around your waist, and Fish would curl up on your other side. You'd been falling asleep with him like that for longer than Billy had known you, and so when he began to occupy the same bed he simply adjusted himself around it. It was a cozy thing; the image of you cuddling with both him and the cat.

Right now, your stomach was pressed to Billy's side, ear resting on his heart. Fish pushed his head against your back, wanting you to turn around. But you were still, seemingly immune to the cat's wishes.

After a few tries, Fish gave up, opting to pad over to Billy's side and slump defeatedly by his hip. He lifted a hand, trailing his fingers over Fish's head, trying to convey that you didn't mean it, that you just weren't feeling your best. The poor creature didn't even know what happened.

All he knew was that his favorite person in the world was refusing to even look at him.

Everything about healing is arduous. If it happens too quickly, it didn't happen right. Billy tried to keep this in mind as he marched through every day, holding your hand through some, but carrying you most.

The nightmares. Every time you drifted into sleep, Billy hoped it would be a longer stretch than the previous night before you were inevitably woken by strains of the subconscious. He'd hear the familiar strains of sniffling, feel teardrops rain on his chest, and just know.

"Shh, sweet girl," Billy murmured one night after a particularly harrowing dream, fitting his palm under your nightdress over your back and hoping the heat of it would bring you down. "'S okay. I've gotcha. You're safe, I'm here."

You gasped, letting out a little sob that broke his heart. Billy dressed you in his arms, fingers falling over you like the petals of a flower kissing the bud. He held you tight, his body a shelter to your internal storms. It was a strange thing to hide from something inside by gravitating outward.

What truly saddened Billy was the clear contrast between your former and current being. When he'd met you, it was as if you were the goddess of spring herself, a sunbeam fallen to earth with the sole intention of brightening it. He swore flowers sprung up in your path, everything you touched glittered.

Now you were somber, retreated into the oceans of your own feelings. How swiftly your demeanor had changed in the wake of the horrible event of your kidnapping. With every crystally pearl that slipped from your formerly bright eyes, every shudder that racked you when he extended a comforting hand to your arm, he wished he hadn't been so swift in ending the lives of those who'd persecuted you. They deserved something slower, a twisting knife so they knew exactly what they'd done.

He reached for your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap and lower your head to his shoulder. Stretching a palm across your back, Billy began to tilt his body back and forth, rocking you soothingly and whispering, "Was just a dream, baby. 's all over now. You're gonna be okay." You let out a shuddering gasp, burying your face in his chest as the aftershocks of your nightmare shook your body.

Fish sleepily lifted his head from where he was sleeping at Billy's side, seeming to notice your distress. He arched his back in a stretch that nearly made him vibrate, pressing his cheek to your elbow. The touch made you stiffen, and you burrowed further into Billy, avoiding the cat's touch. That same stab of secondhand guilt cut him, and he exhaled softly, digging his nose into your hair. He wasn't the only one saddened by your troubles as of late.

Days pooled themselves, saving up to become weeks, and Billy was worried by your state. The nightmares continued, disturbing your sleep sometimes multiple times after dark. Aside from that, you were nearly a ghost when the sun was up, hardly lucid, tethered to the rock of that horrible day when you'd been taken.

You were rapidly losing weight, your skin paling. He was diligent about feeding you, but you ate very little. The pillars of your light were burning out one by one, as much as he could see you didn't want them to.

Drawn and quiet, your days were filled with the sound of silence. You occupied yourself half-heartedly with light tasks, and it instilled an ache in him- how diligently you tried to resume normalcy. He watched you sew and read and prepare meals, trying to resume your life as it was before. But all it seemed to do was push you further adrift in your sorrow.

Even the simplest of tasks, like brushing your hair, could send you into a fit of tears. That time, he'd heard the hairbrush clatter to the floor and sprang to his feet, racing to your side and gathering you in his arms. You were falling and he was trying desperately to hold you up.

The situation with Fish only grew worse. You outright refused to interact with the poor cat at all. He meowed at you for love and you ignored him, not even turning your head.

The poor cat would come pitifully to Billy after each rejection, tail metaphorically between his legs. Fish was long used to being shown nothing but love by you, and this sudden turn must have been jarring for him. It was a strange thing for Billy to behold as well. The sight of you cuddling the cat, even giving him kisses, was as ordinary as the sky's color before the events of your kidnapping. Things had changed, and not for the better.

Every night, Fish reattempted to resume the routine with you, meowing and trying to lay against you. And every night you would turn away from him, your back a cold declination.

He would have thought you were being cruel. But he knew you were hurting, that the pain was creeping in and making a home in your bones. The woman he loved wouldn't hurt anything on purpose. And so he took up the duty of comforting your cat, holding you with one arm and scratching Fish behind the ears with his opposite hand.

One night as you were lying facing him on the pillows, head nestled in the crook of your arm, you murmured, "You don't need to supervise me all the time, you know. You could go back to work."

Billy lifted his head, his thumb stroking the inside of your elbow. "Not when you're not feelin' well," he whispered. "Sweetheart, I'm tryin' to take care of you."

"It must be exhausting." You shifted on your side. "Constantly watching me." Your words were spoken dully, with little tone and even less volume.

Letting out a breath, Billy propped himself up on an elbow, searching your eyes. He held your hand between you, running the pad of his finger over the bump of your knuckles. "Exhausting? No. Never. But I'm worried, darlin'. 'bout you."

You turned on your back, staring at the ceiling. "I'm fine."

The flat delivery of your words was almost worse than if you'd screamed them. He let out a humorless laugh. "Sweeheart, you ain't been fine in weeks. You won't eat or speak...you won't even pet your cat."

His words rendered you silent, and you searched the ceiling as if it held the answers to life's greatest questions. Fish chose this moment to leap onto the bed, pawing at your thigh. Something seemed to snap in you, and you swept a hand out, pushing him away. "Stop it, Fish."

Billy frowned, sitting up and letting the covers fall to his thighs. "Baby, don't take it out on the cat. He ain't done nothin', just tryna give you love." Fish approached you again, and you huffed, turning away. Billy shook his head, his heart clenching. "Honey, c'mon now."

You sat up and drew your legs to your chest, like two spindly branches folding in the wind. Burying your face in your knees, you took in a shaky staccato breath, nails digging into your skin. Billy reached out a hand, rubbing it up and down your back. Your behavior had long since crossed over into the territory of being out of character. It was as if a ghost had inhabited the space you once took up.

He was well aware of what you were doing, even if it wasn't purposeful. Shutting out the world, pushing him away. You were a spectre lying in the bed where his sweetheart used to sleep. Billy sat there in silence, recalling how many times he'd attempted to maneuver you out of yourself again. And he wondered if that version of you was even still there.

Then you sniffled, lifting your head and reaching out for him. He could read the early signs of tears, sense the ache that resided within you. And in an instant, all doubts ceased. His girl was still in there. She had to be.

Billy's arms encircled you, pulling you tight into his body and tucking your head under his chin. When your face was buried in his chest, your body began to shake, little tremors cutting through your being. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I love you." Your voice was edged with sobs the way curtains were with lace.

The words tore right through him as if he were the page of a book, and he pressed his lips into your hair. "Shhh...don't apologize. I love you too, I love you so much. I just wish you'd let me in, my love. Let me help you."

"I don't wanna hurt you..." you choked, trembling under his gentle touch. "I can't get better..."

"Hey...that ain't true, baby," Billy whispered, his brow furrowing. "You can-"

"I don't deserve to get better," you sniffled. That sentence broke his heart worse than anything that had happened thus far.

Billy drew you close, nuzzling his cheek against your head. "My love, you deserve every good thing in the world." He pulled back for a moment, tilting your tearstained face up so he could see your eyes. "'n gettin' better's a damn good thing."

Your lower lip trembled just slightly, and Billy stroked your hair. It was devastatingly clear how badly you were hurting. So he gave you the only thing he truly knew how to do. Love.

He swaddled you in his arms, and you clung to him, nudging yourself close. Stroking your waist, Billy eased gentle kisses into your hair. "I'm here," he murmured. "I ain't goin' anywhere, sweet girl. 'm here."

Fish didn't even try to go to you that night. He just went straight to Billy.

Like a flower, you had been withering, petals stiffening and crinkling, floating down to the ground at your feet. He could see how frozen you were in your sad metamorphosis, clawing desperately at your own skin to get out of it.

He saw it in the way you looked at Fish, curled up against his leg. It was obvious how awful you felt about your maltreatment of the cat, but you were too lost in the waves of your depression to pull out and fix it. Billy grasped at the shreds of you left behind, tried to piece them together and show you the beauty of them.

He saw it in the way you clung to him, the love you felt a facet of yourself you'd never let go of. And he was glad for that, more than anything. It gave him hope. Love could solve anything with time and patience, he knew.

And so, he gave it tenfold, covering you in kisses and in cuddles. He made sure to hold you tight in the morning, especially after a rough night, whispering his love for you over and over again. Though he tried to hide it, his affections held a desperate edge. With every touch he seemed to whisper, please come back to me.

Over time, little signs seemed to reveal themselves, signs you were getting better. It was like seeing the first sparkle of a lake at sunrise, like witnessing a flower open its petals. You began to come to life again. He didn't comment on it, worried it would cause you to retreat back into yourself or tease out any worries. Instead, he continued to love on you.

He noticed you standing on the porch at sunset one evening, looking out into the cloudy sky streaked with orange. There was a light sheen of rain drizzling over the earth, and you seemed transfixed by it. Billy leaned against the doorway, silently watching you extend a hand, tentatively letting the rain kiss your fingers.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, a tiny smile twitched at your lips.

It was like seeing the sun after a storm, like the first sign of hope in a crisis. Billy felt it hit him like a bolt of lightning, bubbling in his chest and threatening to spill over. His eyes stayed glued to you, sure it was a trick of the light, a flicker that would fade into black.

But then you turned to him, corners of your mouth turning up more by the minute. And he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Billy moved forward, bridging the gap and pulling you into his arms, crushing you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, emotion welling up in his being and overflowing into his actions.

You slid your arms around him, seeming confused. “Billy? What is it?” The rain was pouring harder, beating against the roof of the porch in the same rhythm as his heart.

Hope was coursing through him in a river. He was too overwhelmed to speak for a moment. When he finally found his words, all he could manage was “You’re…you’re smilin’.”

Your features softened. “Oh, Billy.”

His fingers tangled in your hair, heel of his palm on your cheek. You tilted your head up, nudging your nose against him. He saw daylight in your eyes, something golden and bright on the horizon. Billy felt like it was the first time he’d ever seen you, like he was a younger man dizzy under the spell of new love. And he let himself get hit over and over again.

“My sweet girl,” he breathed, searching your eyes. “My baby…”

You lifted yourself on your tiptoes, brushing your lips gently against his. Billy pressed his body to yours, holding you close as you smiled into the kiss. He caressed you like your body was built from gold, breathed into life by angels.

The sight of you smiling, kissing him, the beginnings of light brightening your entire being, spurred his actions, and his mouth dragged against yours, holding you in a kiss that stopped time. He pressed little pecks to your parted lips. “My sweet girl…my beautiful girl…”

You held to him, body practically melting against his. Arms encircling your waist, Billy breathed easy. Tilting your head up, you murmured, “You never gave up on me.”

“Never,” he responded instantly, nudging his lips to your forehead. “You’re a part of me. Lettin’ go of you would be like lettin’ go of my heart.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did,” you whispered, cheek on his shoulder. “I’ve been exhausting. And difficult. And unresponsive.”

“You were hurtin’,” Billy shook his head, lavishing another kiss to the border of your hairline. "You went through a bad thing. Anybody woulda reacted the same way."

"But I hurt you," you whispered, horror outlining your words. "And I hurt Fish..." Saying it out loud seemed to weaken you, and Billy held fast to your figure. "I pushed him..."

"Hey...hey, sweetheart, it's okay," Billy said softly, caressing your cheek. "It's okay. Me 'n Fish knew it wasn't personal. We knew our girl was in there somewhere." His hand traced the line of your jaw, reveling in the sight of the beginnings of healing. "We knew you'd come back to us. And even if you didn't, we'd love you anyways."

Every word that poured from his lips was knotted with sincerity, painting an idyllic picture that seemed to wash over you. The rain was slowing down, and you were breathing steady, and Billy swore he could see your soul glowing from the inside out, as if you were stardust. He wouldn't have been surprised if you were.

Between the sheets, your phantoms were stilled for the night, and you laid peacefully in his arms, like the space between them had been carved to fit you. Your name was the title of his story, your handwriting in the margins, your pen underlining his captivation. A week ago he would have thought this an illusion. His girl, happy beginning to seep back into her veins where it belonged.

The familiar thump on the mattress signaled Fish's nightly arrival, and he padded over to you, meowing curiously and half-heartedly rubbing his cheek to your shoulder. Billy exhaled softly, preparing to comfort the cat from your actions borne of grief.

But you reached out a hand, tracing a finger under Fish's cheek and smiling when he began to purr, stretching his neck so your nail would scratch the sweet spot on his neck. You shifted in Billy's arms, so your back was to his chest and his arms were folded over your belly.

Your movements were careful, almost as if you were waiting for the cat's forgiveness. But Fish curled around you like nothing had changed since the night before you were taken, the pleasant vibration of his purring filling the air. Breathing a laugh of delight, you held the cat close to your chest, stroking his head as you eased back into your place.

Billy felt his heart swell at the sight, and he squeezed you to his chest, kissing your temple and taking in the picture he'd have burned into his eyes for eternity if he could. The rough terrain was smoothing out, the seas ahead were tranquil. Spring was resting its soft hand upon the earth and you were healing bit by bit, washed anew by the rain.

All was right with the world.

#no thoughts head empty only fish #fanfiction: billy the kid

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irenebullocks · 2 months ago

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nonononononnononononononon- PLEASE NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASPELPSALSLEPLAPSLEPALPPLEASPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

PLEASE NO NOT NOW NOT LIKE THIS, BELOVED PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS I'M NOTHING WITHOUT YOU

#oh thank god it isn't just me #i was getting worried

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irenebullocks · 2 months ago

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Who needs "plot" when you have ✨vibes✨

#fanfic #wips #my wips

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irenebullocks · 3 months ago

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🫶🫶🫶🫶

⋆౨ৎ𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓐𝓬𝓽⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: copious amounts of angst, death, graphic description of blood pairing: billy the kid x fem reader author’s note: guys...what if I quit writing and delete my blog this hurt so bad Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

You lived in everything.

Billy saw your essence tangled in wildflowers, swimming amongst the glitter of the sun reflecting off the surface of water. All that was good in the world, everything that brought forth a smile was rooted in you, he was convinced.

The one object of his affections, the recipient of his love, you were an angel of the highest order. In Billy's life, he'd never expected a woman to find it in her to love a man like him, let alone one as kindhearted as you. Open armed, endlessly forgiving. At the start of this, he had resolved to humble himself before you, to give you what little he had. It would never be enough, he knew. Not for a woman so beautiful she turned heads, so lovely that people were drawn to her like a hummingbird to a wildflower.

Holding you was paradise, kissing you was a strange kind of rush that he'd never get used to. To love someone so purely hadn't been in the cards for him. No, his hand had been repeatedly unlucky, robbing him of any pleasure life had to offer. But the universe had been holding out on him for now he had the best thing in it.

Billy's guilt nearly ruined the whole thing. He knew he was a whole lot less than you deserved, knew he was on borrowed time with you. Sometimes he wondered if the act of having you was a buildup, some new kind of cruel torture where he'd get to taste bliss only for it to be ripped away. With the law on his tail at every turn, he feared the life he'd built would be ripped away at the seams.

Every night when he crawled into bed, weary from the day's work, uttering quiet apologies for making it back so late, you would roll over and burrow into his chest. No words exchanged; they didn't have to be. He'd press grateful kisses to your head and you'd smile sleepily with your eyes closed.

This was heaven. This was a haven. Life with you felt like a dream. He couldn't have imagined it in his wildest fantasies, not in the years he'd spent galloping aimlessly along the prairie with no end in sight. Until he'd stumbled upon an eternal sunbeam bound up in the skin of a beautiful woman.

Now, in the sacred hours of the morning, when waking was laced with dreams, Billy traced the contours of your face with a single finger. Newborn sunlight was seeping through the cracks of the thin curtains, outlining your halo in delicate lines. He held you carefully, as if with one wrong move you'd crack under his hands and disappear into dust.

Your eyelashes fluttered and lifted as the first breath of waking drew from your lips. He watched, transfixed by your every detail, as you began to stir, turning sleepily on your side to snuggle deeper into his arms. It was a routine, one that would never take its place on the shelf of the mundane. He treasured it. Safety, one of the few things in the world he possessed that was adequate to give to you.

Lifting his hand to your hair, he ran two fingers over where it met your forehead like the tide to the sand: tracing the expanse and tucking a strand behind your ear. Billy loved your hair, fingered it like strands of spun gold, twisted it around his fingers in leisurely moments. He leaned down, lips meeting your temple as a quiet good morning.

Outside, the birds were chattering, speaking amongst themselves about the course of the day. The earth was coming alive as you were, as if it had waited for sleep to lift its heavy head from your shoulder.

"Mm," you hummed, nudging your head against his chest. Billy rubbed a hand up your back, where your sleep shirt had ridden up- one of his shirts. He drew hearts into your skin, his fingers the pen.

"Sleepy?" he murmured, using one hand to pull the blanket up over you without letting go. You were always tossing and turning in the night, no matter how sound you slept. It wasn't an uncommon sight for the sheets to be tangled around your legs come morning.

Nodding hazily, you rested one hand flat on his chest. Your left hand, perfect and smooth, only void of one thing: his ring. Billy had it hidden in a special place, waiting for the absolute perfect moment to ask the most important question he ever would. Maybe it was silly, maybe it was old-fashioned, but he wanted it to be special. His mama hadn't raised a gentleman for nothing.

For now he resolved to hold you tight, relishing the angel in his arms. The needs of the day were creeping close, and he didn't want to lose a single second he could be with you. Life gave and it took away-for every task he did reluctantly, he received another day with you.

When it was finally time to relent and drag himself out of bed, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, squeezing you one last time and rising. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Billy drearily donned his work clothes, buttoning his shirt and pulling each suspender up over a shoulder. He sat at the edge of the bed to tug his boots on one by one.

From where he was sitting, Billy rolled over onto his stomach, crawling back to you without letting his boots touch the bed. Positioned half on top of you, he folded his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks. "You'll be okay, hm?"

"I'll be okay," you promised, one hand dragging up to his hair, fingers combing through it. Your smile was still lined with exhaustion, and his own lips turned up at the sight.

"Sleepy girl," he muttered, eliciting a breathy laugh from you. Billy leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Rest your eyes a little longer. I'll be back in a couple hours, mkay?"

"Mkay," you echoed, and he smiled, thumbing the side of your face once before crawling off the bed and getting to his feet.

With one final lingering look at the pretty girl nestled all cozy in his bed, Billy plucked his hat from the hook on the wall and crammed it on his head, opening and shutting the door gently. His boots clunked a comforting rhythm on the wooden floor, and already he was looking forward to coming back home.

The windows were broken.

That was the first thing Billy noticed when he returned. Gaping holes in the glass, the clear substance scattered across the surrounding grass.

His foot nearly caught in the stirrup as he struggled to get down, paling when he noticed the door was ajar, swinging lazily from previous motion.

In an instant, he was scurrying up the steps, only one thing on his mind. You were still home...he'd left his girl all alone... Flinging the door open, he shouted your name hurriedly, eyes blown wide open as he searched for you. You weren't in the kitchen, nor the bedroom, though the sheets were messy, bed still unmade from this morning. From the paradise he'd separated himself from.

The house was empty, that much was clear. Void of any sign of you. It was both relieving and terrifying. A raw, biting feeling gnawed at his gut. Something's not right. Had you gone for a walk in the nearby forest as you often did, narrowly avoiding the break in? Or had you heard the commotion and managed to escape? He found himself praying, a pleading in his heart to whatever higher power was kind enough to listen. Please let her be okay. Please let her be safe.

Billy tossed his hat aside and rested a hand against the doorframe, any previous energy sapped from him like syrup from a maple tree. His heart pounded an echoing beat into his ribcage, mind overwrought with worries. Where were you?

His prayers began to change. I'll leave her behind so she's safe forever if that's what it takes. All this time he'd thought his presence was protecting you, but if it wasn't he would disappear without a backwards glance, no matter how much it would pain him and you to do so. Maybe you would be better off, without the ever present threats hanging over your heads.

He had been careless to show you off the way he did, to put a target on your back like that. Yet another reason you didn't deserve him. You were a treasure of the highest value, one that shouldn't be kept locked away. It was an impossible situation that he nearly brought himself to tears over. Where was a solution where he could love you and have you and keep you safe at the same time?

Billy wandered over to the kitchen window, despondent and fraught with anxiety. He lifted his eyes wearily to the garden, before something he spotted made his body freeze.

Time went motionless, the seconds seeming to tick backwards and forwards all at once. Billy could have sworn he felt his heart stop for just a moment as the realization carved him open from the inside, bones on display, vulnerable to the attack of emotion beating at them like hail.

His body reacted before he did, feet carrying him out of the house, down the porch steps and into the garden, where your broken body lay like a fallen bird in your beloved patch of flowers, the ones you'd planted early spring. They had begun to wilt at the end of the summer, and now they were your deathbed.

Blood spilt from the gaping wound in your chest, spattering the surrounding petals with crimson. Your white dress, the one you'd always giggled about marrying him in someday, was ruined by the sticky substance, like your heart was bleeding out.

In an instant he was kneeling before you, sliding his arms under your body and lowering himself to you, resting sideways in the flowers like he had this morning in bed. Your eyes were wide open, breathing no more than a whisper, but still there. Achingly, you choked, "Billy...Billy..."

Every portion of his body was drawn taut, the pure shock of the sight before him rendering him useless for anything except holding you. He stroked your hair, trying to soothe you despite the circumstances wearing away at time. "Baby..."

Now you were practically choking on air, brows drawn together, lips parted as you trembled, reaching for him. "I don't wanna die...Billy..."

He could feel tears stinging at his eyes, but held back for your sake, calling on every slight of resistance he possessed. "It's okay, sweet girl," he breathed, bringing you up to his chest with no more than a whimper from you. "Shh, I've got you. You're not alone. I'm here 'n I ain't leavin' you ever again."

"I'm sorry," you managed, chest trembling as tears soaked your cheeks. "I don't wanna...leave you...alone..."

He bowed his head, burying his nose in your hair, body rocking back and forth to soothe you. The last thing Billy wanted was for your final moments to be in distress. Not when the way in which you had lived had so clearly been the opposite. "Shh, sweet girl. You just rest. You were so tired before-" Tears pricked the back of his eyes and he cut himself off, swallowing thickly. Unable to keep the emotion from his voice, he continued. "Everything's okay, my love. I've got you."

Even his love had to be tainted by violence, from beginning to end. Billy smoothed your hair, dried your tears with his fingers, did anything to distract himself from the fact that he'd have to love you longer than he had you. He slid his hand under your jaw, all the while cradling you against him, ignoring your blood seeping through his clothes. Though his chest was heaving and his voice was broken, he found a melody on his tongue, the only thing he could think of to comfort you now.

"As Kathleen fair beyond compare, asleep upon a bank I spied." Tears seeped into each word as he tried to carry the tune. "All upon tiptoe I sought her side, and kissed her down in the daisies." Your breathing grew steadier, and he tried to smile for you, assure you in some way. "But up she starts and on me darts, the shafts of scorn from lip and eye."

Sometimes when you had trouble falling asleep, he'd gather you in his arms and hum quietly, relaxing your body and slipping you into your dreams. This song had been your favorite of the folk tunes in his repertoire, the ones his mother taught him.

Indeed now, it was working its magic, and you looked up at him, your lips turning up just slightly, tears like crystal pearls sliding down your cheeks like rain on a windowpane. He continued to rock you back and forth, grasping you tight as life drained from you quickly as your blood had. "Then in a storm goes sweeping by, and leaves me alone with the daisies."

Your body grew heavy, eyes hazy in a way that made him want to beg, plead, scream at the sky for some kind of answer. You were all he had in the world, his purpose, his love. Desperately, he grasped at you, leaning his forehead down to press a single kiss to your lips. It was the last kiss that mattered. But he hadn't thought it would come so soon.

Now the tears on your cheeks were not only your own. His salt mingled with yours, and he reached his thumb up to brush them away, finishing the song in a cracked whisper.

"But when next day I chanced that way, there Kathleen blushed in all her charms, with sighs she sank into my arms, and we told our love to the daisies."

Billy didn't open his eyes, but the moment you took your final breath he felt it. For a moment he pretended you were only sleeping, that his singing had done the trick and eased you into a dream from which you would wake in the morning. You would snuggle into his side like you always did, ask him for five more minutes before he left. And he would give it to you, never deprive you of anything ever again. "My girl," he breathed raggedly. "Please-"

If you were smiling at him, heart beating steadfastly under his hand when he opened his eyes, he'd give up the gun forever and marry you and relocate somewhere secret and never go another day without showing you how absolutely you consumed him. He'd do all the things he should have done before, everything he'd been putting off. He'd forget about the bastards who'd ended your life simply because you loved him and just be grateful you were still here.

But when he finally lifted his lids, yours were shut, already deep into an eternal rest from which he could never wake you. Not even with his softest kisses, his gentlest of touches. Billy didn't know that he would ever be able to accept what would never be. He would never get to slide his ring on your finger, never see your belly round with his child. He would never see the first strands of grey in your hair or hear your laugh or see your smile directed at him like sunshine in this life.

Still, he grasped at you, held you tightly to his chest, supporting your head when it lulled backward limply. Still, he rocked you back and forth, comforting you when you were long gone. His girl, his baby, his love and light. Right now he clung to every memory in fear that he would lose it. Billy knew how the aftermath of death went. He knew someday he would forget how you smelled, what your voice sounded like, how it felt to hold you. Even though he'd spend whatever time he had left missing it.

There was nothing stopping him from digging your grave and flinging himself in it beside you, no outside force preventing him from finding who'd killed you and begging them to take him too. Your last words: I don't wanna leave you alone.

At that, his tears began to fall, pouring torrentially down his cheeks and silencing any logic. Destiny was cruel, mistaking you for star-crossed when you were meant to be written in the stars. Billy wept into your hair, hoping your spirit wasn't watching. The crush of emotion cracked his being open and let forth everything he'd tried to keep underneath. His strength was fraying, its heart silenced.

You made a mistake, he wanted to shout. You were never supposed to take her. Suddenly the rest of his life stretched out before him like a woeful march, highlighting everything he would have to do without you. What was a soul without its mate, a lover without his love? Loss consumed him like a wildfire, flames licking at his chin. He let himself burn.

Your body was growing icy, and he squeezed you tight to him, rubbing his arms over your body. You hated being cold. His darling sweetheart would cuddle up to him no matter the weather if you felt so much as a goosebump. Billy sheathed you into him, passing you his body heat fruitlessly.

He had to let go. The thought probed Billy unwillingly, and he shook his head, feeling like a child. He didn't want to. He didn't want to dig you a crude grave and lay your broken body down, letting the earth hold you instead of him. He didn't want to say goodbye. He didn't want to wash his hands and body of your blood and burn the clothes it had stained. It felt like tossing aside a piece of you, when there were scarcely any left. Soon, the only thing remaining would be memory.

Billy set that dreadful idea adrift, letting it float out to sea. The waves would lap at it and bring it back to the shores of his mind eventually, but for now it was far away. He breathed in a shuddering way, lips finding your temple and pressing there.

"I've got you, sweetheart," he breathed, caressing your stiffening body. At the very least, he was glad you hadn't been alone. "Just rest."

No longer in an ocean, it drifted around him like coyotes circling a lonely traveler, baring its teeth and poising to strike, launching itself at him and consuming all that he held dear. He squeezed his eyes shut, having hoped shoving it down would erase its fruition. But it bloomed in his broken soul like the flowers you'd died atop.

The final act of love is letting go.

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irenebullocks · 3 months ago

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Really?! After I just finished taping my heart back together?! Come on!