This feels… this feels like dying.
I’m going to die.
Nathaniel
29
Epilogue Continued
I WATCH AS LANDON’Sentire body betrays him; his skin flushed red yet paler than I’ve ever seen it. His eyes are clenched shut, and as each scream falls from his lips, I feel my own panic heightening.
“Ithurts,” he chokes out. “Nate, make it stop!”
He crumbles forward, the entirety of his muscular body collapsing against mine.
“Shh,” I coo, “Just breathe, babydoll. Just breathe.”
I’ve learned that if I show my own fear, Landon only panics further. I have to be the strong one this time.
But inside my chest, guilt claws at my heart.
I put him here. I am the reason he is writhing in pain. And in truth, Idon’tknow what that liquid is doing to him. I know what I read, how it’s supposed to pull that dissolved repression chip from his body, but I haven’tseenit. There’s no documentation.
I’ve spent the past six months digging into it, trying to find someone to test it out. But no one was willing to risk nevergetting their gift back, and we haven’t come across any more criminals to repress.
I debated doing it myself, but if I had died, Landon would be alone. He would have never forgiven me.
But ifLandondies? Shit. Maybe I should have tried it first anyway.
Another particularly agonizing scream leaves Landon’s lips, and I push him until he’s sitting on his heels, eyes firmly shut, and his hands gripping me so tightly I believe he’ll draw blood with his nails.
“Hey, look at me,” I demand, taking a firm hold of his shoulders. “Little Lanny,look.”
Vibrant green clashes with the brown of my own eyes, and he looks so fucking terrified that I’m immediately transported back to that warehouse, watching as the realization that he’s been repressed racks his body.
“Nate,” he sobs, tears soaking his cheeks and falling onto the carpet below.
“I know, I hear you. Just focus on me, breathe through it.”
Other than that, I’m not sure how to help him here. I can’t pull the liquid from his stomach; I can’t go back in time.
All I can—
Landon’s eyes widen to the point of concern, his mouth falling open as he coughs, pouring blood all over his pants, his chin, and the floor between us.
Oh fuck.What do I do?!
“Shit,” I hiss, furiously wiping at his chin.
And between several bouts of blood, he cries, saying, “Help… please… I don’t… I don’t want to die.”
He’s losing too much blood. There is a puddle now, soaking into my jeans and scaring my psyche. Have I killed him? Was my desperate attempt to fix him all in vain?
If I lose Landon, nothing else remains for me. He is the center of my entire universe, the single most important thing to me. I can admit it now.
“Fight through it, Landon,” I command, gripping his face as his blood trails up my forearms in thin lines. “Focus on me andfight. You will make it through this. You will live.”
He has to. There is no other choice.
