Chapter Text
Before your concious mind is aware of what's happening, your dagger is in your hand. You feel a familiar cold slice at your throat, followed by a blooming warmth. Spurting, dripping. Right on cue, a scream rips itself from Mirabelle's throat. She rushes to your side. This is always the hardest part. At least it won't last very–
Fuck.
A wet spluttering cough escapes you as you realize what you've done. You're not looping anymore. You idiot, you idiot, you blinding idiot!!! You frantically shove your hands to your throat, trying to stop the bleeding to no avail.
"Siffrin, what happened? Why did you- Why-"
Mirabelle chokes on her words. She always does. You try to form a response, but only a thick wheeze escapes your throat. Your head is spinning. You're not exactly sure which way is up. Why did you do this, why, why? Loop warned you, they warned you and you didn't listen! They just wanted to help, and you threw it away, just like you throw away everything!
Mirabelle's arms wrap around you and you feel her ease you to the ground. The embrace would be enough to make you dizzy if you weren't already holding back vomit.
It's cold, you idly think. Your cloak is supposed to keep you warm, but you're so, so cold. You weakly hold Mirabelle's hand on your chest, as if her touch alone could keep you alive as your heart pumps its contents onto the floor around you. Your breaths come shallow and fast. You wonder if this is how Loop felt fading away underneath you. You hope they felt less sick than you do.
You wish this hurt more.
Mirabelle's hand trembles, sticky with your blood, firm on your chest. She's screaming something, but you can't quite understand the words. You wonder why she's so upset. She should know who you are by now, what you do to everything you touch. Use it up and throw it away. This family was never any different than anything else you've touched, you've broken, you've forgotten. The only difference is that you let yourself hope it was.
Static creeps into the edges of your vision and a high pitched ringing grows in your ears. Mirabelle's voice is muffled and ragged at the edges as she begs you to come back, come back, come back. Her voice fades behind the shrill ring in your ears. A small kindness from The Universe in your final moments, you think. You're too much of a coward to listen to what you've done to her.
You watch your perfect moment slip from your grasp as Mirabelle fades into the static. You listen idly to the desperate clapping of Mirabelle's hands and the muted hiss of Craft as you slip away, the static in your vision fading into blackness.
You hope you'll see the stars.