Page 92 of Inevitable Endings
I shake my head violently, my hands clutching at him, refusing to let go. The warmth of him, the scent of him, mint and smoke and something that has always felt like home, it’s fading.
‘‘No,’’ I choke out, my breath uneven. ‘‘No, where are you? Where are you?’’ My voice rises, trembling with panic. ‘‘What have they done to you?’’
But he doesn’t answer.
A sad smile that never reaches the green of his eyes comes andgoes.
His outline starts to blur, his edges dissolving like ink bleeding into water. His touch, once so firm, so grounding, begins to slip away, becoming weightless, ghostly. I can still feel the echo of his hands on my skin, but they’re no longer real.
‘‘No, no, no—’’
I reach for him, but my fingers pass through air.
His lips move, but I can’t hear him anymore. His voice, his deep, steady voice that could command and comfort all at once, fades into nothing. A whisper lost to the void.
I scream his name, but the dream twists, distorts. The warmth turns to cold, the light to darkness. The weight of my own fear crushes me as I watch him disappear.
And then—emptiness.
Aslanov
It’s a fitting punishment for a monster, to hold something in your arms while you know you will never truly deserve it.
We recognize that we can easily annihilate each other with the merest flicker. I could distinguish her, and she could burn me alive with those wild red locks. We are intertwined in red and loneliness.
Where once I craved vengeance, power, and submission. I crave rest, tenderness, and her.
But I don’t have any of that.
Life has always felt unnatural to me. A performance I was never meant to play, a song with no melody, no end.
I want to stay.
But the world is cruel, and so am I.
My fingers hover over her freckle stained cheek, aching to trace the tear that lingers there, a whisper of sorrow even in the depths of unconsciousness. I’ve wiped away too many of her tears lately, felt them stain my skin like ink, a love letter writtenin grief and longing.
She shifts, a whimper escaping her lips, and my name falls from her mouth like a prayer—broken, desperate, spoken into the dark as if the syllables alone could summon me back to her.
I wish they could.
‘‘Where are you?’’
Her voice trembles, her breath comes faster, panic curling around her like a vice. I feel it as if it were my own, the fear, the ache, the unbearable need.
I should go before she wakes, before she sees the last of me dissolve into nothing, before I have to watch recognition dawn in her eyes; the realization that I am nothing more than a shadow now, something she will chase but never catch.
But I can’t.
Because she is the only thing holding me together in this place.
‘‘Isabella, listen to me.’’ My voice is steady, quiet, but unrelenting. ‘‘I want you to keep going. You’re stronger than you think.’’
She shakes her head, her hands reaching, desperate, clawing at air as if she can pull me back, anchor me to this world.
‘‘No,’’ she gasps. ‘‘No, where are you? Where are you? What have they done to you?’’
I say nothing, I can’t. I have to protect her.
