Page 26 of Remnants: Disruption
The decision made, I’m at the kitchen sink; the steak knife pressed against my neck. It could be so simple. So easy. So quick.
No one would miss me. Maybe Percy, but she’ll get over it.
The shadows fight back. The stupid, fucking shadows. Their damnable strength overmatching my own flesh. The knife is ripped from my hands by a tendril of darkness. It clatters uselessly on the floor, sliding to the leg of the small dining table.
“Fuck,” I spit out, stumbling forward.
I catch myself on the sink, head lowering over the basin. Nausea rises in my throat until I let out a rasping choke. Yesterday’s coffee and today’s water splatter against the stainless steel.
“—I gotta go,” Percy’s voice trills through the thin door of my apartment. “Yes, baby, I gotta go. I’m picking up my friend for dinner.”
Baby?
“No, I haven’t told her about you. We’ve had a busy couple weeks and she’s stressed. I’ll tell her tonight.”
Bile rises in my chest again.
“That’s my man,” her voice is softer than it ever is with me. “I love you.”
I expel more of what little I had left and wonder if maybe I can get to the knife in time.
But she knocks. And my time has run out.
Foolish idiot. That’s what my name should be. Not The Dark One, no “Fucking Moron” fits so much better.
“One second,” I rasp, running my face under the water. Fuck the makeup. Fuck the breath.
Honestly, fuck this.
My head thunders for a few moments as I regain my breath. The shadows are still there. Their whispers louder with each passing second I spend in the darkness.
“Fuck you, too,” I whisper and move to the door, righting my face so it looks less like I’d just puked up my guts.
“God,” Percy’s eyes widen as she takes me in. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I say, giving her a smile that is forced and fake. My heart hurts and my stomach coils at the sight of the dPhone in her hand. The man on the other end being given a prize I could never have anyways.
Probably for the best, if the lurking shadowy figure in the corner of my vision is anything to go by. Percy doesn't deserve a haunted lover.
Lover.Absolutely ridiculous.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I lock my door behind me and throw my peacoat around my thin figure.
“Thought we’d go to one of my favorite Italian places. The recipes survived the war, after all,” she grins at me, apparently deciding I look the normal level of fucked up now.
“Great,” I smile back, more hollow than ever before. “Lead the way.”
Chapter 15
Abomination
Nine P.M., October 23rd, 1030 A.D.
Secrets and lies—that is the Remnant way. To be free is to die. To die is to be immortalized as a terrorist or villain. Not a single Remnant dies a hero. Not one.
The Armorer before his execution in 1023 A.D.
The trip is quick. Evidently, her favorite Italian restaurant is in the same neighborhood as Arthur’s, which makes my heart hurt even more. To be this close to something so important to her, yet so very far.
