You survive.
I stagger through the outskirts—half-fallen shanties, crumbling walls, scavenger nests.
The Spine looms in the distance, jagged and ugly against the sickly sky.
I’m not thinking about her.
I’m not.
But part of me—the part that still dreams when I’m too stupid to stay awake—wonders if she’s somewhere behind those black walls.
Still breathing.
Still fighting.
Still waiting.
No.
Don’t think.
Don’t hope.
Hope is a blade that carves you from the inside out.
Focus.
One step.
One breath.
Get clear.
Find a ship.
Get out.
That’s the plan.
Simple.
Clean.
But deep down, buried under all the grit and blood, I know better.
Nothing about this is gonna be clean.
Not this time.
Not with her still pulling at my soul like gravity itself.
And if I don’t get my head straight fast…
I’m gonna burn right alongside this wrecked world.
My side’s on fire.
I don't notice it right away.
