Page 206 of Seasons of War
She looked so pale.
So pale and so still.
Something was wrong.
His thoughts dulled.
He tried to make his mouth work and ask if she was okay.
Nothing felt right.
Fear ripped through him. He reached out to shake her awake, but his hands grabbed swollen ice instead of skin.
Zayne fell back from her, landing against his father's legs. Fists of fear squeezed his heart, his mind struggling to catch up.
Kneeling, his father wrapped his arm around Zayne's chest, holding him tight. “I've got you, son.”
Dad didn't hold them.
The embrace awakened horror inside him, contracting his muscles and flooding him with energy to fight, except no one was attacking him.
“Mom,” Zayne said, something warm and wet sliding down his face. Had he not washed off all the blood? Was he still stuck in that basement with Kira? Stuck in his nightmares?
“Your mother was at the church.” Tears choked his father’s voice. He’d never heard him cry. “No one knew… I didn’t know… I'm sorry…”
“No.” Zayne shoved his father away again and crawled to her bedside, gripping the blanket. “She’s here. She’s fine. She looks fine. Mom?”
“She’s dead, Zayne.”
He bowed forward. “She promised to stay home. She wasn't at the church.”
Zayne grabbed his mom's legs through the blankets. This was a mistake. A misunderstanding.
“Isn’t there something we can do? We haven’t tried anything yet.” Zayne closed his eyes.
Nothing he said made sense, did it? He was in shock.
His breath caught at the realization.
He was in shock because this was real. His mom was really dead. And dead was dead. It was too late to try anything.
“Am I awake?” Zayne whispered, gripping her leg harder. “She's really gone?”
He wasn't prepared to hear the answer. He never would be.
Sorrow gripped his father’s voice. “Your mom is dead, son.”
Zayne doubled over. “I need… I need to do something.”
“Do what? You need to sit down and take a minute to process this.” His father pulled out the chair from the small desk against the wall, his voice calm despite the grief on his expression. “Please, sit down. Get off the ground.”
Zayne groaned and ignored his father. His thoughts were clearing and, as they did, the pain filled his heart, first in spurts, and then in gushing streams that stole his breath away. PXI must have flowed through his veins, bursting against every capillary and artery, and setting every nerve on fire.
Nothing relieved a pain like this.
Nothing.
He'd die.
