Page 88 of Remnants: Disruption
The room is moderately decorated with a wardrobe to my left, a large chest across from the bed and the freak in the mask to my right.
The bed is comfortable, at least.
“The fuck do you want now?” I groan, trying to sit, but wincing as my ribs throb. “Holy shit that hurts.”
“You have managed to fracture not one, but seven important bones in your body in the last week.”
“Never the right bone, though,” I snort, feeling at where my ribs throb. There’s no discernible lump, but they fucking hurt.
“You also had moderate internal bleeding from your last escapade,” they say, voice never pitching.
“Oh, fuck you,” I spit. “Fuck you all and the high horses you rode in on. You know what I think?”
“Enlighten me.”
“I think you and Mary are just as awful as Darkrend. You all just use us as your little pawns while you galivant around as some bastions of righteousness.”
“Is that all?”
“Fuck you and your goddamned queen,” I hiss and nearly squeak as their hand wraps around my throat.
“I would watch your words about the God Queen,” they say, words measured.
“Be my fucking guest,” I grin up at them, and their hand closes tighter.
The first sensation of suffocation triggers alarms in my mind. Alarms turn to sirens of dire circumstance as my vision starts to darken.
Then the hand releases. I gasp out a few times before returning my eyes to the masked figure.
“Coward,” I cough out.
They’re silent for a few moments before the figure sighs heavily, marking the first emotion I’ve heard from them.
“Has anyone ever worried about your mental health?” they ask and I can’t help the pained laugh.
“As if you give a fuck,” I say, baring my teeth.
I move, but the figure holds up a gem. It’s red and hums with something that feels a lot like Mary.
“Just a precaution,” they say. “So, we can talk without things coming to blows.”
“Of course,” I say, feigning a serious nod, “for my safety, right?”
“You are angry and confused—”
“Oh, figured that out, did you? You with your serious little mask and cute magic.”
“You will not antagonize me into hurting you,” they respond, a calm assurance in their otherwise monotone voice.
“I can certainly try. The fuck do you want me for? You want information on that other bitch that Darkrend has? Her name is Alexa. That’s all I’ve got.”
That quiets them for a few moments longer.
“What else do you know?” they lean forward a little.
“Only that Mary fucking lied to me. And, you know what?” I feel the terribly familiar pang of heartache.
It was so stupid to let myself even harbor those thoughts.
