Post by Robin Engell on Nov 22, 2018 0:53:55 GMT -4
The tempo of her breath and heart crash along the floor with Hideaki. Adrenaline waning, conviction fading, she grinds along on shaking legs to the antidotes now spilled free – one vial rattles, vibrates in her hand for only a moment before she drinks, deep and heavy as if from a spring in a desert. Liquid spills from her lips, down her throat and down her chin, and just as life-giving blood empties from that flask, the boiling conviction in her heart falls and fades as well.
The demons she feels pressed at her back shrink but do not leave.
Their claws on her scalp lose grip but do not fall.
Trembling now – uncertain of when she fell to her knees, she climbs again, leaves shattered glass on the ground before grabbing three others. She wanders to Kutsu, drops one in his lap with a stubborn frown, does the same to Ryuusei caught up in restraining Hideaki.
“We need to get out before the death squad gets here.” Words she hears but doesn’t speak – her corpse pilots itself. Her soul lingers behind, wafts weary on open air in the trail behind her body, one that wanders back to the antidotes and crams as many into her shirt as possible.
“And we still need to get as much of this as we can to the others too. We don’t know if they hit their mark or not. We’re not done. We’re not done, okay?”
‘We’re still not done,’ she thinks, feels weak in those strides that strive forward on their own – they retrace her steps, confident and sure, a hard iron shell for hollow void within.
She’ll remember today as a catalyst – she stands strong in shock alone, lags behind in mind and soul while a stubborn body soldiers on.
“Let’s go,” she calls out, glances behind with lips falling in a scowl. “Hurry up.”
Bitter pills still lying on her tongue.
But the aftertaste is sweet.
WORD COUNT: 325
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