Battlestar Galactica

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Jacob Clifton: A+ | Grade It Now!
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The Girl On The Cliffside

"I promise you from now on," it says, "I will be here for us. The three of us. Maybe the four of us. You know, maybe someday we, we'll have another baby. What do you think?" Its hands, touching her body. "Another baby? A brother, a sister for little Nick? What do you think, buddy? Hey?" It gets too close to her son, to the little creature with the fat cheeks and the happy eyes. It went into the locker with the rest of them, and revealed itself to her. "Would you like a little brother or sister?" And was that all it wanted? To put more of those inside her? She let it touch her once, a thousand times; she was grateful. She was a fool. She knows what she must do.

Cally grabs a wrench and beats the thing bloody. She'll only have one shot; she remembers the strength in those hands, remembers the unrelenting, hideous strength of his fists from inside the nightmare. It won't come true again, so she beats it, even as it crawls on its knees toward her, wordlessly begging. She grabs a launch key from its pocket, and its abomination from the crib, and leaves it for dead, lying on the floor of their home, covered in blood.

She carries the thing, the tiny abomination, through the corridors. Everybody can see how filthy she is, covered in sickness and destruction and hateful contagion. Nobody speaks to her, but they all look at her and the awful thing in her arms; they all look away.

Cally walks slowly across the hangar bay. Their world, the place she built a family and fell in love, after the world ended. Before the world ended. The launch tube bay opens slowly before her like horror, like a gaping dark mouth. She walks slowly, but with purpose. The thing in her arms isn't sure yet, whether to cry or reach out to her face. She stares into infinity.

Cally stands in the middle of the tube airlock, turning slowly in a circle, taking in the lines and angles of her tomb. She stares out the window, into space. All the stars, and her face written across the glass like a wound. Who knows how long she stands there? She walks slowly, the thing grumbling in her arms, and opens the lock panel. She turns the key, and the lights go from red to green.

As long as the ties that bind us together are stronger than those that would tear us apart, all will be well.

Tory speaks her name. It is dirty in that mouth. She tells the thing to stay away. "How could you?" she asks. How could you stand there and laugh at me behind your eyes? How could you end this world again?

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Battlestar Galactica

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