#reposted.

elizabeth  march  had  always  been  an  empath.  she  felt  everything,  she  didn’t  even  know  fezco,  but  her  hands  got  clammy  because  of  the  way  jules’  eyes  kept  moving  around  anxiously.  her  stomach  ached  when  she  saw  the  state  of  rue.  her  whole  body  never  felt  like  her  own  when  others  were  hurt,  her  body  would  react  like  those  around.  but  she  never  complained.  she  liked  knowing  so  she  could  at  least  have  an  idea  on  how  to  help.

she  gently  moves  her  hands  through  rue’s  hair,  eyes  moving  around  the  waiting  room,  eyes  always  capturing  someone  new  entering  the  place.  then  it’s  betty  who  is  rushing  in.  she  doesn’t  think  about  it  at  first.  half  the  town  probably  knew  fez,  by  the  way  jules  and  rue  talk,  he  was  a  very  likeable  person.

then  their  eyes  connect  and  there  is  fear  that  rushes  through  beth’s  body.  her  whole  body  goes  numb.  she  almost  knows  before  she  does,  her  chest  trying  to  cave  in  as  she  slowly  gets  up,  moving  -  floating  -  towards  the  blonde.

amy.

that’s  all  beth  needed  to  hear  to  feel  as  though  she  hit  a  brick  wall.  she  stands  there,  everyone  becoming  background  as  she  can  feel  the  tingling  sensation  take  over  her  hands  and  begin  working  its  way  up  her  arms,  inching  closer  and  closer  to  her  chest,  desperate  to  get  to  her  lungs.

it  had  been  exactly  three  weeks  and  five  days  since  beth  had  her  last  panic  attack.

she  doesn’t  make  eye  contact  as  she  thanks  betty.  the  words  car  accident  echoing  in  her  mind  as  she  takes  a  step  back.  she  doesn’t  even  talk  as  she  moves  around  rue  and  jules,  making  her  way  towards  the  bathroom.  locking  the  door  behind  her  as  her  petite  body  sinks  to  the  floor.

amy.  the  artist.  the  one  who  is  so  particular  about  her  nose  despite  being  beautiful  so  effortlessly.  the  actual  light  of  beth’s  life.  the  one  that  would  giggle  into  the  night  with  beth  when  the  other  march  sisters  were  trying  to  get  rest.  amy,  the  one  she  helped  homeschool  and  taught  how  to  plant  accordingly.  who  she  held  during  reading  letters  from  father.

eyes  close  tightly  as  the  tears  fall.  chest  heaving  as  her  hands  shake  in  her  lap.  count  to  ten.  well  she  damn  well  tried,  but  she  can’t  stop  the  hitched  breath,  one  hand  raising  to  her  chest,  clenching  tightly  to  her  top  as  she  lets  out  the  sobs,  the  fears  of  losing  her  baby  sister.

beth  had  always  been  okay  with  her  own  passing.  she  had  accepted  it  and  prayed  until  her  last  breath  that  her  sisters  would  be  okay  after  she  went  to  sleep  forever.  but  amy.  amy  didn’t  deserve  this.  she  had  such  a  happy  life  ahead  of  her.