Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

the girl that remains of penny lamb stands in the middle of his room. it feels hollow, the heavy air of something that used to be there but is missing now. there is so much that she'd lost.

she has avoided reading the news or answering questions, hating every single person who tried to talk to her about what happened that night. the reports had made her into a miracle, a poster child of god's great blessings. no one spoke of the others except for in unit. no one ever spoke of him.

she looks around at his bedroom and all of his things. her eyes fall over posters, and pictures, and so much more, all of the things he had cared about so much. he was the smartest boy she had ever known. that was one of the things she was most in awe of about him- his mind was always so much greater than his seventeen years, constantly running, so full of thoughts and ideas and life.

he wanted to be a writer. he had so many dreams.

the girl that remains of penny lamb is hesitant to touch anything in this room, afraid that her hands will stain his memory, that she'll erase anything that's left. her fingers hover over the wood of his desk, stacked with soda cans and sticky notes. there is so much left unfinished. an incomplete page of scribbled writings still waits in an open notebook, his desk chair halfway pulled out, pencils and papers strewn over the floor. he was not ready to die.

so she holds herself in silence, waiting for something that'll never come. it's cold. the air is still. the only sound is her shaky breaths as she wanders slowly around his room, searching for something she didn't know, desperate to feel him again. her fingers tremble as she reaches his bed. it's been made since he'd passed, that much was clear- it's unnaturally perfect next to the mess around the rest of the room.

she runs a hand over the sheets, blankets neatly folded at the foot of the bed, set there with so much care from a mother. her only son, her baby taken from her just days before. what had she done when she'd learned what had happened? had she cried over his body? had she screamed at the paramedics? had she broken her vow of silence, no reason to fufill it any longer, begging for another chance? he was still just a child, his shelves were full of action figures. he was the youngest one to die.

the girl that remains of penny lamb had woken on september 14, at exactly 6:21 pm. she had been pulled away from the cart by the calculated hands of paramedics who had rehearsed this so many times before. a blanket had been thrown over her shoulders in an attempt to seem caring, but no one cared about her- they were all focused on the ones who hadn't made it out of the accident.

she sat shivering, fingers digging into the itchy fabric, doing anything she could not to look at the mangled bodies being taken out onto stretchers. you could barely tell who was who. they had all been twisted beyond recognition, arms and limbs hanging lifelessly like marionettes forgotten by time. it made her sick. but the thought of the alternative, averting her gaze down into her lap, only drove her eyes straight ahead once more.

'shell-shocked', that's what they called her. a girl with the wide eyes of a war victim, sitting silently, covered in blood. the sole survivor. 'poor, poor penny. what a brave young girl, how strong she must be to stay alive. '

but what onlookers didn't know, and the girl that remains of penny lamb did, is that the only one left had not been injured that night. she had come out of the disaster unharmed, left without even bruises on her knees to prove what she had been through. the only thing that brutally reminded her every time she looked down at herself was the blood- blood that was not hers.

since the moment of the accident, the only thing that she could see was red. stinging her eyes, staining her clothes, sticky and sickening and wrong; it clung to every last inch of her skin like he was still holding onto her, begging her not to leave him there. to take him with her beyond the crash. she squeezed her eyes shut as they carried him off, too afraid at what she might've seen if she'd opened them. she couldn't even imagine him like that. if she didn't think about it, it couldn't be true- because in some horrible, awful way, he was still with her; he was all around her, he was everything.

that night she had stood frozen in the shower, hands trembling as she gripped a bloodstained cloth. it was nothing like in the movies where you could stand under the water until it ran red and it would all be over. this was worse, so much worse, since the time spent at the scene had gave it long enough to dry. she couldn't just look away and let it wash down the drain. she had to fight against the tears pricking at her eyes, scrubbing until her skin was raw, every moment forced to watch what was left of him be washed away. there was a sick part of her that didn't want to. a part that wanted to stay there, lingering in memories forever, never letting go of him and of what they could've had. but when she looked down at herself once more her skin was clean and he was gone.

standing in his room for what is probably the final time makes her feel the same.

the girl that remains of penny lamb lets herself cry- she has put it off until this moment, as if pretending could keep him with her. the emptiness hangs in the air, it suffocates her, resting heavy on her chest until her shoulders are racking with sobs. she sinks onto the floor and stays there, crumpled over as if she had been one of the bodies they'd found that night. her face presses into the side of his bed like the shoulder she wishes she could cry on. her hands curl into his sheets until her knuckles go white. she will never understand what it is that let her be the one to live, and maybe that is for the better.

Chapter Text

ricky potts had died holding her hand.

she had been so afraid when the ride had started moving. almost as a reflex, she had grabbed onto him, and he had let her. as they started to climb he had kept completely still, holding his breath and trying not to remember how long itd been since the last time he had felt human contact. trying not to like it so much.

he didn't think she realized she had let herself so close to him. she was always so distant.

a pit formed in his stomach as they reached higher- that awful, sick feeling when something bad is about to happen. he told himself he was just overwhelmed, this is how he always gets when everything is too much, even if he knew it wasn't really true. it had been a long, awful day, full of noise and lights and colors that made his head ache and his stomach churn. in the line, he was so clearly fidgety with anxiety, trying and failing to show anyone how badly he wanted to leave, but no one ever paid him any fucking mind.
he didn't want to be here. he didn't want to be part of this. no one ever listened when he tried to show them that he hated this, all the sounds and the sickness and the going going going that they all seemed to be such fans of.

they were reaching the top of the peak. he wanted to throw up, he wanted off, to be anywhere but here; something was wrong, something had to have been. the wind pricked at his eyes but he couldn't tell if they were already watering.

he let out a long, quivering breath and leaned his head back onto the seat, trying to supress his uneasiness. if he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could focus on her touch. maybe she was only steadying herself, but it was something, the last tangible sense of comfort he had- like the ice cold of her skin was the only thing keeping him awake. they were both shaking.

and all of a sudden they were falling and rising and her nails were digging into his skin and it hurt and he didn't care. even if it hurt it was human it was something it was anything he never had, and everything hurt, everything was moving too fast. he couldn't think.
he could hear her, she was screaming, crying out for something; her voice was high and lilting even when he could barely make it out over the whirlwind of sounds. he wanted to throw up.

he squeezed his eyes shut as they were jerked side to side, biting his lip so hard it drew blood. her nails were gripping marks into his skin but he hardly even noticed anymore. it thrashed them around uncaringly, relentless, so cruel and without mercy. his ears were ringing. his head pounded in his skull. he was so used to pain but this was something different, something unnatural and so much worse.

and they were rising again, everything was spinning, he was sick, he wanted off. everyone was screaming and shouting and laughing, a haunting cacophony almost like the songs of the choir. something was so wrong. they were climbing, almost tauntingly slow, as metal screeched and tracks clacked in his ears. everything hurt.

something was wrong. maybe she had stopped screaming beside him, but it seemed like she felt it too. she let out a strangled, shaky breath, trying to calm herself, pulling her hand away from him without a word. against his better judgement, he felt a pang in his chest- he wanted to be close to someone. he needed it so badly right now. even if she didn't care, even if she didn't even know what it did for him, he needed her.

they were rising, rising, rising. he tried but he couldn't hold his eyes open. it was all too much.

and all of a sudden, the ride exploded into sound as they were thrown down the tracks. it felt even faster than the first time, even more jarring. and she was screaming again- not out of surprise, or enjoyment, but pure shrieks of terror, ringing out over everything. they were twisting, hurling over the sparking rails at full speed.

he was doubling over in his seat. it all hurt so much. before his clouded mind could even think her hand was back next to his and he was taking it and he wasn't letting her go. their fingers entwining as they held each other, both trembling, but still squeezing with all the fight they had left in them. she was so, so scared, he could feel it- it was the only thing he could hear anymore.

blood rushed through his head. he was out of air, choking and gasping breathlessly to try and soothe his aching lungs, his knuckles white from how tightly his hand gripped hers. the world spun around him. the ground was below them and the sky was above. colors flashed and screams echoed louder, time seeming to freeze as they fell. everything hurt, everything was too much-

and then it was quiet. it was over.

save for the one surviving member of the choir, still grasping onto the dead body of the boy next to her.

Chapter Text

penny shoots up in bed, covered in sweat.

she's been dreaming again.

putting her face against her hands, she rubs her eyes to try and still her pounding head. she had gotten used to the migranes by now- the dizzy, screaming ache that never seemed to dull. it had reached the threshold of familiarity days before. she had chalked it up to a symptom of the crash itself, something inside her brain that had snapped, a punishment for her survival. as if not enough had been taken from her already.

it has to be at least two in the morning- everything is silent, everything is still. she shakily pushes herself out of bed, feet finding the cold wooden floor. feeling her way along the wall, penny tries to guide herself into the bathroom, praying that she can shake the droning in her ears. she knows she can't. she hasn't slept through the night since the accident.

she closes the door behind her, locking herself in and turning on the light. the glow of a single dim, flickering lightbulb illuminates her face in the mirror and she jumps. she still isn't used to seeing her own reflection. it makes her more nauseous than she was before.

her fingers grip onto the hem of her nightgown. she hasn't been the same since it happened.

something is wrong with her- she can feel it, the poison growing inside her, but she doesn't know just what it is. eyes a little too wide, skin a little too pale, limbs too long or thin or something else. strands of hair fall out of her braids, sticking every which way, tangled and ragged and torn. she doesn't know how to cut it right, doesn't care enough how she looks anymore. her knuckles go white, she can feel them aching, but can't get herself to let go. her insides are hollow. her whole body is sore.

through tears, she studies the mirror, touching her face, touching her braids, wiping the sweat from her cheeks with the back of her hand. how could she still be sweating? it's freezing, she's shivering, goosebumps cover her exposed arms. her fingers are so cold they hurt her skin. her face is ghost white- so pale and transluscent that her veins shine through, purple bags under her eyes nearly as dark and deep as the bruises that litter her arms. she is sick. she is never going to get better.

penny turns on the tap and lets it run, feeling the freezing cold water and the freezing cold tile and the freezing cold air. every time, it shocks her, stinging her skin and waking her up again. it's a vicious, cruel cycle. everything hurts.

she tries to drink from the tap, hoping it'll still her stomach, but the water is bitter and tastes like anger and makes her nauseous all over again. she gives up trying to fix herself. there is nothing she can do.

her knees give out and she lets herself slide to the floor, back to the bathroom door, curling into a fetal position against the tile. she doesn't care anymore. she lost her dignity when she lost everything else.

september 24th, 2009. ten days since the accident. penny lamb had died with the rest of them.

Chapter Text

penny crawls back into bed, wishing she could just sleep forever and soothe her aching bones.

she finds herself wondering if her brother is lying awake, too. he's always had a problem with sleeping. she knows that. she spent most of her younger years taking care of him. he's her baby brother- no matter how old he gets, even now that he's nearly fifteen, that's all she's ever known to do. the only thing she's ever made of herself.

if nothing else, penny lamb is a damn good big sister.

since the day they were off on their own, she had done everything she could to make his life better. it had been her fault, her idea that led to their parents' arrest- she had to make it up to him somehow. she'd spent days worth of digging through charity centers to try and find him wearable clothes, even though he's fourteen, growing fast, and she's always had to guess his sizes and almost always gets it wrong. he's nearly taller than she is by now.

she'd stood up for him every time he'd been made fun of by some horrible older student from their school, even if he didn't care and it was always worse for her afterwards. even if everyone at their school hated them no matter how hard she tried to be normal- even if he never even pretended to be normal at all. everybody laughed at the lambs. but out of some awful sort of unwavering love, she's spent her whole life standing with him.

she's done so much for her brother, given up so much of herself for him.

but ezra doesnt care. ezra doesnt get it. he couldn’t- little brothers never understand. no one ever understands.

she curls into herself. her shoulders shake. she wishes her mother was here.

a girl needs a mother. penny couldnt even have that much, not a single source of comfort, not a single person in this world to hold her and make it all better. she wraps her arms around herself, dreaming about what she could’ve had. dreaming is all she has left.

'its okay baby, mommys here. she has forgotten her mother’s voice. youre the bravest girl in the world. but you don’t have to be brave anymore, penny, i’ve got you.'

no one has ever been there for her. what had she done? what horrible thing had she caused to deserve this? every single thing she ever cared about taken from her, every person she loved, over and over and over until she’s alone. just her and her baby brother, the only thing she has left- but he cant listen, cant rock her in his arms the way she needs someone to.

she cries. she really, truly cries, ugly, snotty sobs that make her whole body tremble and ache. penny has lost so much that she cant even tell who shes crying for. maybe it's herself.

but what right does penny have to feel so horrible? she's the one who survived. she's the lucky one. she was given what none of the others could ever get back- more time. it isn't fair of her to act all sorry for herself. five kids had died last week. a selfish part of her wishes she had too. that would've made all of this so much easier. maybe then, at least, people would have missed her. then, she wouldn't have had to live like this- empty and lonely, without a single person there for her. none of this is fair.

she wraps herself in her blanket, trying to stifle the sounds of her bawling in the thin fabric. she cries until it's stained with her tears, her bangs sticking to her forehead and shoulders shaking with the force of it all. she cries until she slips into a restless sleep, tossing and turning with hazy nightmares that she doesn't remember in the morning.

when she wakes, her face is characterized by the usual dark circles and sickly-pale flush in her cheeks. she's grown accustomed to seeing herself this way. penny changes quickly into something other than her nightgown, not even bothering to fix her hair- there's no point of that anymore. she takes one final glance at what's left of her reflection before she leaves her room, going back to face the world that hates her.