He’ll live. We’re in a hospital, after all, they’ll fix him up. Sort him right out.
Paitlyn is still limp over my shoulder, her breaths shallow and even.
She doesn’t struggle, doesn’t scream.
Truth be told, it’s almost disappointing. I want her to fight, to rail against the inevitable. But she just lies there like a dead weight.
The hallway is now chaos. Guards and patients alike are running in every direction. I walk calmly through it all, my eyes fixed on the exit.
No one tries to stop me. They’re too busy dealing with the aftermath of my arrival.
The night air is cold as I step outside, the sky above me is a blanket of stars. I adjust Paitlyn on my shoulder, feeling her body warm against mine.
This is just the beginning, the first step on a long road to redemption.
And I’ll drag her kicking and screaming down that road if I have to.
I’ll drag her right back to the very gates of hell.
Pailtyn
Icome to with a start.
The air is sterile, cold, and the silence is deafening. I try to lift my head, but it feels like it’s filled with cotton wool. Feels like it’s rammed to the very brim.
Where is the darkness? Where is my friend?
My thoughts are sluggish, but there’s a clarity underlying the haze, a clarity I haven’t felt in... I can’t remember how long.
I try to sit up, and a wave of nausea hits me like a truck, preventing any further movement. I retch, but nothing comes up. My stomach is empty, hollow, in a way that suggests I haven’t eaten in a long, long time.
As my head stops spinning, I realize something’s not right.
I’m not in Oblivion. I’m certain of that fact. But I’m also not in whatever the hell that place was I woken up in before. Where the fuck am I?
I can feel the flimsy gown I’m wearing, the kind you wear in hospitals, draped over me. My arms are stretched out to the sides, secured to some sort of board. I tug, but the restraints hold fast. Panic starts to rise, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.
I can hear a far-off drip, the sound of a tap that’s not been turned off properly.
This is not a hospital. Hospitals have machines, beeping sounds, charts at the foot of the bed. This place has none of that. A shiver runs down my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Something is wrong. Something is very very wrong.
The door swings open, and the sound of two figures walking in makes me freeze. They move towards me, their steps echoing ominously in the cold room. I shrink back as they reach for my restraints, but I can’t get away from them. They’ve ensured that by tying me to this damned board.
Before I can react, they undo the straps, grab my arms, and haul me up. My feet drag limply behind me as they pull me out of the room and into what I guess is a corridor. I try to struggle, but my body feels disconnected from my mind, my limbs heavy and unresponsive.
When we finally reach wherever they’re taking me, they push me hard enough that I stumble, falling to the cold floor.
One of them grabs my face, turning it. “Look.” He says, in a voice that is almost certainly distorted by some sort of tech. “See them, see all of us here, ready to witness justice?”
I don’t know what he’s talking about. I can’t see fuck all and they must know that. Clearly, they’re goading me, and yet I feel like an animal in a zoo, a spectacle for their entertainment.
Is this my new punishment?
Is this some new form of torture the Brethren have come up with now that Guthrie is dead?
Well hard luck to them. I’m beyond that shit now, beyond it all. The darkness is my friend. The darkness is my salvation.
