Snippet #2173997

Volos, who hadn't slept at all, sat on the floor, staring at the door. It wasn't like he was waiting for them, oh no, he did not want to deal with them until he was actually rested. No, he hoped that this was a dream and that he would be in babushka's house again, waking to her warm cooking. But as the sun shone on him, he knew it was final. Another person, the second person that he had truly loved like family was dead. He wanted to laugh, cry, scream, do something to prove to himself that he was actually hurting. That he was missing her. He pulled the small bag he was given and pulled out Lucifer, flopping over and laying half under the bed. He stared at the floor then, one hand petting the soft ox, the other gripping it against his chest. Maybe they would forget him, or give him back up. It was what he wanted anyways. He never understood why people wanted to keep him.