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70. The monster in your arms.

Lazarus pov

I have no idea how much time has passed and while I sit here, with a baby in my arms, I can’t help but feel completely fucking useless.

My son is in a place I don’t trust. The baby I’m holding keeps sleeping as if she’s in a coma - no signs of life other than the obvious raising and falling of her tiny chest. My wife is locked away, parents do whatever the fuck they do and my brothers - I don’t even have any idea what is up with them both.

How the fuck did we get stuck in this loop of madness?

Another roar of thunder echoes around me, so I look up at the sky. Perhaps Alister is right - it really looks like the sky is raging because it demands something to be returned. Or, more precisely - someone.

I pry my eyes off the sky and look back at the calmly sleeping baby. She’s a thing of beauty - perfection, no matter how long I look at her. Ophelia looks like a mix of Sarah and Lenox, in a way, as if mother nature gifted her the best parts from each parent.

At one point, I
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