He draws back, one blood-spattered hand wiping at his mouth, and at least the world has stopped spinning for a second— or if it hasn’t entirely, at least he’s already gotten through the worst part of it.
What the hell happened? For a second it had been the war all over again, a deafening explosion and a horrific impact.
There is a car, another one, just an inch to his left, the hood crumpled nearly flat against the narrow back seat of the Mustang.
"—Mom," he says thickly, turning back around to her; it was just a fucking ride, a trip to Edge to pick up something, and yeah, maybe to show off what he’d put hours and weeks and months of labor into. “Mom— oh, fuck—”
Take me for a ride, his mother had requested, half joking as he went on and on about the car. For as little as Edea cared about automobiles, she knew how much pride and effort had gone into the Mustang, and she had wanted him to know that what was important to him, naturally was important to her.
There was no harm in admitting, that for a car, it was a very nice looking one, as well. The thought of spending an afternoon out and about in it with Seifer had humored her to some degree.
There is an unbearable searing to her right, and she hisses, the sensation sudden. When she finally looks, there is a metal pole sticking right through her, beneath her right arm.
She looks back to Seifer, and isn’t sure what to say.
"I would like to see you try and make me, foolish little worm.”
“I will tear your throat out.”
It’s such a simple request, and he isn’t entirely sure he can oblige. Everything is shifting, right and left, the whole world bobbing like a ship at sea.
He is angry, against the nausea and blood flowing freely down his temple, because his car’s hood is crumpled in and it took him weeks to get it right…
Oh, christ, he’s gonna puke. Seifer forces open the door of the battered Mustang, and adds to the litter on New Bodhum’s streets.
It had happened so fast, there is a vision of spinning and lights burned into her sight. She thinks that she’s ok, everything is sore and she’s shaken up, but she thinks that she’s ok. Edea reaches for her phone; she isn’t going to wait around for someone else in the vicinity to call for assistance.
There is blood all over Seifer, and it is a mother’s instinct to push any and all self concern aside, her attention even so compromised that she stops in mid-dial. He could have a concussion, he shouldn’t move too fast, he is going to topple right out of the car when he opens that door—-
She’s pinned to the seat, and from what she can tell, Seifer isn’t the only one with blood all over himself.
The growling gets closer, and he scrambles to his feet, looking for it in the scrubby forest that grows right up to the shoreline, that he has come so very close to on his little adventure.
He isn’t afraid.
Nothing scares him.
It’s probably just a dog or something, and he’s a pretty good swimmer— at least that’s what his dad keeps telling him. He’s got a gift. If it’s a dog, he’ll just run into the water and wait for it to go away.
Seifer’s eyes settle on movement a hundred feet away, and it is definitely, positively not a dog.
It’s huge, and it’s got big claws, and maybe he fell asleep while sitting on the beach, because he’s never seen anything like it before.
And little Seifer Almasy, who shows no fear, picks up the biggest rock he can find in the sand and throws it in proactive defense.
It doesn’t go very far.
It does, however, send the thing moving in his direction.
She doesn’t like to think of herself as a bad mother, but when Seifer in particular doesn’t listen, she doesn’t feel like a good one, either.
Maybe it isn’t fair—-that he doesn’t have his own room, that he has to share everything, including the affection of his mother and father with half a dozen other children—-but how exactly do you explain to a little boy just under five how unfair life really is? How unfair it will be to him one day?
If only she knew then what she would eventually know.
He will never again have it as good as he does now.
But for the years that he lacks, Seifer knows better than to just go off like that—-it’s dangerous, and that has been drilled into each and every one of the children’s heads—-and the act of defiance is no end of frustration for his mother, worried and irritated all at once as she makes her way down the beach to find him and coerce him to return to the stone house with her.
There is a child’s scream, and Edea’s heart is trapped in her throat, her jet black hair streaming behind her—-an unnecessary weight. holding her back—-as she takes off, running as fast as her legs will allow through the sand.
Oh, you’re not going to die. Oh, no. I’m not going to make it that easy.