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The spark between us was missing.
The hum and thrum and everlasting connection was non-existent as I wiped his blood-drenched bronzed hair off his ruby-wet forehead.
“Aslan...please.” My heart hammered with an agony I’d never felt before, muted but excruciating, quiet but as loud as thunder. “Please, Aslan...open your eyes.”
I didn’t know what came over me.
All my life, I’d been strong and brave.
I’d fought for those less fortunate, championed for animals, and never shied away from those in pain, but this?
Him?
I couldn’t cope.
Parts of me shut down. My eyes refused to compute that Aslan—the love of my life and my absolutely everything—was unmoving, unbreathing, unblinking in the middle of the road. My mind rejected the images as if this was a horror movie I could turn off and forget. My body refused to accept that the conduit of electricity that always flowed between us was now dull and dead.
Piece by piece, my body folded in on itself as well as my heart and soul.
I hovered in a space of disbelief, distrust, and rejection.
This can’t be real.
It just can’t be.
It’s not.
I rested my palm against his cheek.
He’s fine.
See?
He’s fine.
On the coattails of denial came the violent need to bargain.
To haggle with angels, negotiate with the devil, and offer up any contract with any entity that somehow had the power to make this all a silly mistake.
Please...
“Aslan...” I ran my fingertips over his closed eyes, smearing blood like a death mask. “Darling, dearest Aslan...please. You’re okay. I know you are.”
He didn’t move.
Didn’t do anything.
Just lay there.
Like a corpse.
Like a body that’d lost its soul.
No.
Wrongness flooded my fingers where I touched him.
Hope ruptured inside me.
