Page 172 of Remnants: Disruption
Like watching my own soul shrivel up and die.
“You can’t,” I say, voice louder, “you can’t go.”
The tether weakens. Her eyes flutter and her face pales. It’s a real-time desiccation of her fucking body and I can’t stop it.
“What the fuck is the point,” my throat is raw from the useless raging. I press my face into her chest. Feeling her against me one last time.
Her heart thuds slower. It gives a few quick, successive beats then skips. It happens again. And again. Each interval further apart.
“Reach into her and grab it,” a voice whispers. I don’t see them.
I turn to look around the room, but there’s no one.
There’s no other soul. I can’t feel anyone but Cass.
“Fine,” I say, my voice thin. “Just reach in and pull it out.”
Nothing happens, of course. My shadows can’t just “reach in” and pull the fucking bullet out.
And then it happens—the tether disappears.
Darkness erupts. Like a violent torrent of power that I can’t control. Things shatter around me. The tornado of suffering that I can’t seem to stop. That I don’t want to stop. There’s screaming, but I can’t tell if it’s me or the other side.
The tether. Where is the fucking tether?
It’s the void landscape, except Cass isn’t here. Where the fuck is she?
The inky darkness ripples but it’s just me. She’s dead. I know she is. I just fucking felt her die.
So why is it only me?
Has it always just been me?
Am I the only one?
What am I?
I stare out into the nothingness. Anger and shame pressing cold claws against my heart.
I failed. I failed her.
Something glints in the void. It’s hard to make out but it’s—
It’s a string. The tether. It’s rising further and further into the air, but I don’t wait to figure out what to do.
I leap for it and grab it with hands that don’t exist. I can feel her in it. Feel her resonating.
But it’s still pulling. It’s still trying to leave and go wherever the fuck death takes beautiful people.
“No.”
A single word.
A single command.
The force of the eruption sends me flying. I collide with the other wall of the room. Her room. In Romania.
I can see everything now. I can see the wood flooring. The bed that looks a little worse for wear. The drawers and knickknacks shredded by my outburst.
