epilogue

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HIS EYES SHOT OPEN. Tim panted loudly, tears welling up in his eyes. He raised a palm onto his face, touching the salty tears that trickled down the side of his face. Reality slowly hitting him like a truck.

Thoughts filled his head, memories rushed in. One tear turned into two, two turned to ten. Pained sobs now filled his once quiet room, tears were like rivers as it stained the pillow beneath him.

His dream - no, memory, was as clear as day, repeating constantly over and over again. The 10 months flashed by so quickly. And he hated it, so very much. He despised it.

Ciara died. She never made it to the gala. The car Tim had spent hundreds to make sure it was the best ride she ever had was totaled by a drunk driver.

The white, dress she wore was tainted in her dark, red blood, almost to the point of brown. Her hair she had up neatly was out of place, strands falling over as soot covered her hair. Her once pink lips were sickly pale white.

Tim spent hours and hours, waiting for the girl he loved to burst through the ballroom's doors. Dealing with fake laughter and gifts of all kind, he didn't have a single clue that Ciara was bleeding out as her heart couldn't keep up, people attempting to help her battered body. Tim simply pondered, where was she? was she lost? did she decided not to come? was she alright?

She wasn't supposed to die like this. She wasn't. Tim would happily have Ciara in her hospital bed, hearing that familiar heart monitor beeping as she was still living and breathing till this day than this.

It was his fault, Tim thought. If he hadn't pushed her to come, she may very well still be with him. But she isn't.

It's been months, yet he could still feel the way her cold fingers would brush against his pale skin, like cold silk. He longed for her sweet bubblegum scent that he can never get sick of, almost to the point of intoxication. Her giggles still filled the air like she was there, ever so faint.

She reigned over his mind, like a puppeteer with a puppet; tugging at its strings almost mercilessly. And like a puppet, a simple pull on its strings and he'd fall for her ever so easily -

- and he did.

He had so much to tell her. That he was the vigilante that she met almost every single night the stars lit up Gotham skies instead of the harsh billboards. That he was the one paying her hospital bills, funding every single medicine and supplies without her knowing. That, he loved her. He really did.

But now, he couldn't. Ciara's far away, her body 6 feet underground in the Gotham cemetery as her soul rested peacefully among the stars, watching over him like the story she spoke of.












SAUDADE. - (n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; "the love that remains."














[ final note ]

so how are you guys !!! im sorry if i broke your hearts but suck it up losers

i loved writing this book and i loved every single one of my readers who read this, thank you all so so much for helping me with this as this simply started as a project i did sleep deprived. im so glad and happy i came into this community and for all my friends that helped me throughout, you know who you are <3

anyways, again thank you so much for reading!!

p.s ciara said "rip to jason but im exactly like him"

SAUDADE,     tim drakeWhere stories live. Discover now