Page 34 of Remnants: Disruption
Chapter 19
Inhuman
Two A.M., October 24th, 1030 A.D.
The population of Nye Verden steadily multiplied after the Second Disruption in 900 A.D. It’s a good thing, too, because the Disappearance in 700 A.D. took nearly half of those who remained after the First Disruption.
Dr. Blair Andrews, MD, PhD, A Lecture of Remnant History, 1025 A.D.
Pain flares between my shoulder blades. The stabbing, scraping feeling works its way down my spine, landing in the small of my back.
“Fuck!” I scream out, darkness exploding around me as the pain intensifies.
“Arya, please,” the voice comes from somewhere nearby. It sounds choked, afraid even. Wrong. “Stay still.”
Fire burns into my abdomen, swirling and cutting. It rages in intensity as something jabs deeply into my ribs. The shadows weave and dip as a soft light blends into the otherwise overwhelming nothingness.
The shadows that used to cradle and comfort me at night now flare and fight back with a feral intensity. Shadows that had once been my only respite against the spirits now retaliate in violent revolution.
“Arya!” the voice cuts through again, this time sharper—but there’s fear still, too.
Percy’s fear.
With the realization, the shadows evaporate like falling mist. The room around me comes into sudden and intense clarity.
My living room—lit up from end to end. Not a single shadow in sight.
“Oh my god,” I yelp out, hissing as my back spasms and shocks.
A face appears over me. My mind screams with the desire to run. To fight.
“Percy?” I ask softly, my voice hoarse.
“You took three siphoning-class bullets to the back,” her voice sounds hollow as she hovers over me. Her eyes look tired, definitively red around the rims. “You should be dead.”
My feet shock with pain as my back twinges. Something isn’t exactly right in my spine. Probably the three rounds Triggerman dumped into me.
“Disappointed?” I choke out.
I should probably care about the hurt that flashes across Percy’s face, but I’m over it.
I’m done.
I’ve had enough.
Percy works her jaw like she might say something.
“Thank you for getting me home,” I say, staring back off down the hallway to my room. Percy sits on the coffee table, her back to my television. “I’ll heal in an hour or so.”
“That’s it?” she asks, sounding a little incredulous.
“What do you want from me Percy?” I ask, finally looking back at her. “You want me to beg for your forgiveness?”
“I want to understand why you never told me.” She sounds on the verge of tears as she clenches her jaw shut again.
I bathe the room in darkness, the twinge of pain a good reminder to take it slow—even with my accelerated healing.
“And say what?” I ask, knowing she can’t see me as I shadow-jump to the kitchen. My hand comes to rest on the countertop.
