who we are and all that we're trying to be
The world rattled against him, listening to the cries that sounded like her, listening to the void that rushed in between. He’d already lost Rexanna, and he couldn’t lose her, and a portion of him just wanted all of the torture to stop. To be released from this damned hell, this cursed flames, this bombardment of artifice and terror. For all his strength and might, for all the fortitude and violence, he couldn’t withstand this – the mind games, the monster’s wails beyond the door, beyond the vessels, beyond the eclipse. He would’ve preferred a thousand knives immersed into his frame, he would’ve preferred hordes of armies bearing down on him, than the tangible agony gripping his heart.
He shuddered and shook with each scratch, afraid he was wrong, terrified that she was out there and needing to be let in, that the world was rampaging and he couldn’t save her –
Worthless. Undeserving. Nothing.
You are nothing.
An echo of all the truths binding him – and how easy would it be, to open those doors and let the void take him? To make everything stop?
Which was better, to live in this horror, or to give into it?
One last plea, one last breath, one last bellow. “Go away.”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
