A FUTURE SCENE IN A FANFIC THAT WON'T BE WRITTEN FOR A LONG TIME.

Her eyes were fixated on the floor in front of her, no expression present at all. Her face was blank, void of emotion. She was a ghost version of herself. Not her at all. He could see nothing of the old her in this face. She was a completely different person. Her hair was darker in color, her eyes a vibrant orange rather than their old green. Even the way she held herself was complete opposite of how she used to.

“Esther…?” David asked slowly. His tone was soft, gentle, the way he always used to speak to her. He never rose his voice at her, even when he was angry, which was a vast difference from with anyone else.

A low laugh erupted from her lips as she rose her gaze to meet his. Her head tilted to one side as she stared at him, a grin curving her thin lips upward. “Esther is gone,” she told him simply, before examining her fingernails as if she were bored. “Consider her dead.” Her tone was so morbid, so satisfied, that it made David shudder as he watched her.

“But she’ll come back.” He shook his head, sitting across from her. “She’s not actually dead.”

Another laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong, little Roman boy. She won’t be coming back. She can’t hear you, see you, smell you--not that she’d want to. Man, you smell bad--none of that. She’s gone. Finished. It’s the end of her story, and it can’t be rewritten.”

“...She has kids. A wife. Family. You can’t take all that from her. You can’t!”

“Oh, honey. I already have. It’s killing poor little ‘Tasha. Literally.” Blaze laughed as David darted from the room. Literally? She didn’t mean…

“Natasha!”