Blaise curled up against the cold stone floor of the tower, looking at the top of her knees as through there was something terribly interesting about the blue denim. The rain pitter-pattered against the walls, sometimes even flying in through the window and dampening the desolate room a little more. She shivered and wrapped her long black sweater closer around her.
Winter was the most depressing time of the year, whether there was snow or the traditional English rain. Traditionally, winter was the time when the world repainted itself – by magic, it would seem – in the most morose shades of grey it could muster. She wrapped one arm around her stomach and rubbed her eyes with the other. Her fingers linger for a moment, then slid down to her, neck, where the raw skin of not-so-old scars tainted her. It was almost like a tattoo – it screamed “stay away, I have problems!” or “you don’t want to be here – I’m different”. But she wasn’t different. Not any more than she had been. The only thing that ever changed was the way people saw her.
Blaise would be the first to admit that chasing after Danny had been daft. She loved him like a brother and couldn’t bear to see him die, even if it meant her own life. Granted, she had never really believe it would come to that, but even when it did, she embraced it. Why, then, had she agreed to return when Kevin came for her? His actions had been stupid, that was certain. But she did not believe that she went for his sake. When she came back to this world, it had been the most painful thing she experienced, like a rebirth. The confusion and hopelessness would have overwhelmed her were it not for a couple people who invested in her. But it had ruined both she and Kevin. Kevin… who was long gone, and now she, the accursed Queen of the Damned.
Queen. Of the Damned. Sometimes it sounded funny in her ears. When Val and Jo and Tyne were around, the whole “queen of the zombies” bit was a joke, a title she wore and was proud of because it was the easier of two tasks. But no good thing lasts forever, and all were gone in time.
Which left here here. Here in the North Tower, listening to the rain fall. She used to enjoy the rain. Blaise used to slip off her shoes, roll up her pants, and run around on the soggy wet grass and let the rain drown her. Now? She sighed and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Now she was afraid to go out in the rain. Would she rot? She never really knew if her body was rotting or not anyway… but rain and moisture made things worse. It was scary, being brought back to life but not knowing if your own body even really wanted you here.
She never used to be afraid of anything.
Then? Blaise stretched out her legs and ran her fingers through her hair again. Her emerald eyes were closed, imagining what was and never would be.
She was afraid now. Because everything had changed.