Too silent.
Only the monsters are left.
I’m missing something. Something important. I can feel it in my chest; an emptiness that seems to weigh me down.
I squeeze my eyes shut—block out the burning, crumbling world, and try to fit the pieces together.
A shrill sound akin to nails dragging down a plate almost splits me apart. Again and again it sings its spiteful tune, fraying my insides.
I bloody my throat with a scream
Wetness dribbles from my nose, and I bash my ears with balled fists that threaten to cave my skull.
The warring vista falls away, eroding on a brisk wind until I’m standing on a cliff, peering down into a gloomy chasm. There’s a peaceful silence that’s no less terrifying than the shrill sounds that tore at me, and liquid is no longer dripping from my nose ...
It’s gushing.
I stumble away from the jagged edge—
Lugged upright like a floppy doll, a sharp breath slices through my throat as my eyes pop open, a metallic taste heavy on my tongue. Steady hands hook around my upper arms but do nothing to quell the tremors.
My clammy skin is the only thing stopping my bones from scattering all over the bed.
A disheveled flop of auburn hair half shutters the frantic perusal of familiar brown eyes glazed by a flickering candle flame. Baze’s lips are moving in sync with the ball in his throat, yet I hear nothing over the roaring sound inside my skull.
I realize I’m clawing at his bare shoulders and pry my hands away, drag them down my face, andscream.That scream turns to a sob, then bleeds into a raspy plea while Baze’s lips keep shaping words.
You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.
I’m not.
My brain is a ball of sizzling, molten lava that’s going to explode.
I can’t escape.
Bracketing my temples, I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the world, rocking back and forth ...
A sulfuric odor smacks the air, and my eyes pop open.
Caspun.
I lean forward, lips parted, seeking that cooling balm for my insides.
Baze frowns and grips my chin, tilting my head. A splash of liquid hits my tongue, and I swallow.
Gag.
No matter how many times I punish myself with this bottle-bile, the taste never seems to grow on me. Yet I still reach for it, night after night, like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the world.
Numbness rushes down my throat, stemming the calamity in my head and easing my swollen brain. I moan, then open my mouth for more despite the fact that Baze no longer has my chin in a vice.
“Orlaith ...”
I snatch the vial, wetting my tongue with another healthy glug. It’s hard to ignore Baze’s icy tenor as I swallow the slur of blessed, quag-tasting crap with a wince.
He seizes the caspun, eyes slitted.
“What?” I croak, falling back to the bed. I roll sideways and curl into myself while I wait for the last of the pressure to abate.
