when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
It isn't often that something knocks Isla hard enough to rattle her resolve. She's no damsel in distress and she's seen the horrors of war, both here and in another life. But gods if the hits don't keep on coming lately. There are a few folded scraps of paper on the beside table where she's attempted to make banal decorations for her next letter to Remi, abandoned in lieu of hiding under the covers.
Indeed, there's little more than an Isla shaped lump in the middle of the bed, the Remedy curled up into a stubborn little ball as if she might hide from everything coming to pass. Sam, Bastien, Adam, seemingly one after another. The stakes get higher and they just keep losing. When would it end? When they were all dead at last?
Indeed, there's little more than an Isla shaped lump in the middle of the bed, the Remedy curled up into a stubborn little ball as if she might hide from everything coming to pass. Sam, Bastien, Adam, seemingly one after another. The stakes get higher and they just keep losing. When would it end? When they were all dead at last?
i could die
Isla
