{{❀}};; the grass beneath her cushioned her aching body that became number by the second. her blood flowed and bubbled from the stab wound that blossomed and burned in her chest. she’d just had enough energy to stare at the cloudy, gray sky above her. it rumbled and cracked with thunder, and rain very shortly followed after. it soaked her hair and ran red into her dress and the grass. she was dying. there was no doubt in her mind that this was the end. her body was slowly losing feeling, and every breath became harder to take. she didn’t even have enough energy to turn her head and look at the person who dropped by her side. they frantically called out her name, and pulled her tiny frame into their arms. her icy hand clutched onto the material of their shirt, weakly, but just enough so she felt grounded. they were her tether to this world, and her side of the rope was wearing down. “will flowers grow?” she asked them, without any context whatsoever. she felt their arms stiffen around her, probably unsure of how to respond. her head was swimming, rational thought leaving her. “wh-what?” the scrambled through the question, clearly bewildered. “can flowers grow here? s-so people know…that i died h-here. i’d like…something nice here, instead of sadness. something pretty, i-instead of death….” she rasped. her hands were beginning to go numb, and her vision beginning to blur. she was seeing double, no, triple…quadruple? she couldn’t tell anymore as black began to seep in from the edges of her line of sight. “y-yes,” they assured, choking on tears, “i’ll make sure of it. i’ll m-make sure that your flowers grow.” a smile played at rima’s lips. warmth flooded her, and her grip on the person beside her’s shirt began to loosen. music filled her ears, the sound of an all-too familiar voice humming a tune happily. she knew that song. rima’s eyes slowly fluttered shut as she released two final words that could easily be mistaken for sighs, they were so soft. “mother’s here.”
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