➔ if you die on me , i'm going to be pissed off. (said while holding back tears) (and failing)
❥ Injury Prompts // Accepting
"Oh, well, if that's tha' case--" Molly would be interrupted by the need of her lungs desperately clinging for any sort of oxygen they can get. Which in turn just hurt her chest more.
Her ribs definitely were broke and had punctured one of her lungs. That in addition to the bleeding coming from her stomach, too, was causing her heart to be working over time. She's surprised it hasn't just failed yet, truthfully.
Maybe because Angel is holding her. Her body knows that, even still, we have to stay strong for him.
Further evident with the fact she was still trying to joke at a time like this. If Angel wasn't here? Molly was sure her body would have given up much sooner. He was practically her life support right now -- well, actually, he kind of always, wasn't he?
It's cruel of him to have been here, to hold her in his arms like he was ... Making her have to try and stay conscious, to smile with blood still laced upon her lips.
At least when she died the first time, he wasn't there to see it. To find her.
Guess this was to make up for that, huh?
A hand tried to reach up to wipe the tears off his face, but ... Molly couldn't really feel her arms. They were heavy, cold. Like lead. She thinks maybe her fingers at least might've twitched, she's unsure.
"Please... Don't hate me," she murmured, words fumbling over themselves. Now Molly felt her own tears rolling down her cheeks as her eyes burned. "Everythin' I do ... Is for you. I love you, so ... so much."
Her heart, that was somehow still pushing, would break entirely if she believed Angel didn't know that. How Molly tried for so long, doing nearly anything and everything, for him to know that. That no matter what, no matter what anyone would say, including himself, he was always loved. He always will be loved.
Not as much as he deserved, no ... But Molly did what she could, though it was no where near enough. She knew that.
She had hoped, though, Angel knew how hard she tried. That he deserved it and more.
Molly tried to open her mouth, to speak again, but the words were entirely caught within her throat. She was worried she was about to throw up her heart, even though that isn't possible. It's what it felt like.
Her body must be weighing so heavily in his arms right now ... Last thing she ever wanted was to bring him down.
The tears pouring from her eyes weren't from the pain, not entirely, but for how Angel was looking upon her. That he was here.
Molly wouldn't die alone, but, for what cost? This?
It was a mercy that she was alone that night with Castello. How selfish was she to wonder, to wish, that there was someone there for her? This was her price to pay for such terrible thoughts.
And she had to drag Angel with her. The last thing she wanted.
Her baby. Her life. Her pride and joy. Her brother.
Molly couldn't speak anymore, nor move her arms, but she at least could still smile. Smile up at him like she always did. The smile that was the foundation for so many walls, the smile that she always hoped, at least, was a band-aid fix.
Even though no band aid would be big enough to fix this.
She always, always tried, didn't she?
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