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Reach out…through the air,I ask between shooting and dodging the swipes of a monster that’s trying to drip hot wax onto my head.We need to throw him out the window. Or into the other monsters. Something drastic.I’m wasting ammo.
Fucking hell, I knew I’d have to do it all. You keep us neutral,he grumbles.
Fine.
Fine.
But before he can take over my gun hand and we can switch places—before he can even start to summon his magic—a stream of magma cuts through the air. Waxy’s face puckers and melts, his body sizzling as he drips into a puddle at my feet.
I turn to Tesq and raise my chin in thanks.
He returns the bro nod before turning back to one of the clones and punching a fist through its stomach. Straight through.
I inhale deeply, forcing oxygen into my lungs and turning, lifting my good hand and taking careful aim to avoid Uni. He’s broken a window out and is summoning rain inside, creating a column of water. I leave him to it.
Together, Em and I move farther into the room, and I'm lost again to fighting. Shooting. Punching. Ducking. The spray of green blood through the air above me, beside me. A glancing blow that leaves my cheek stinging in pain. Blood fills my mouth, and adrenaline irradiates my veins, making me nearly glow with savagery.
Rain and wind funnel into the space from the broken window, and everyone’s hair grows damp, eyelashes splattered withdroplets barreling sideways. Thunder cracks and lightning illuminates us all in eerie, unnatural colors.
A monster with double-sided battle ax arms comes at me, and I have to duck and dodge the fucker like I've never had to do before. The slice of his arms creates a whizzing sound that makes my asshole pucker so hard I can feel it all the way up my spine.
There's an edge of death that starts to hover over me, this strange sensation that I've had a few times before. Most recently, when Em and I were tortured. When I was certain we wouldn’t make it out.
Don't go there. Don't fucking go there!Em shouts inside my head as a chop from the blades rings true and skims off a bit of my left arm.
Misery splatters through me—from the pain but also from the direction of my thoughts.Bullets didn’t matter against a wax monster. They won’t do jack shit against a blade-armed monster either. I’m useless.
Think of ponies. Number two pencils. Chewing gum on the sidewalk!
I thought neutral thoughts were to counter greed.
They're for that shit too. Now, stop with the negative thoughts,Em scolds.
If I die, you'll be free,I tell him, my mind diving into morose acceptance.
He yanks away control from me, forces my limbs to dive to the ground, and do a painful summersault to escape the blades.
If you die, I'll be fucking alone again! Don't leave me alone.
Em's truth rings inside my ears. Inside my soul.
It makes me swallow hard because it drags up an entire set of soft vulnerabilities that I didn’t even know existed inside myself.
STOP THIS FEELING SHIT!he commands.
If you want me to live, do what you fucking did with Creep earlier. Reach out past me and control this bastard's arms. Make him split his own head open.
Em wrenches control of my right arm away from me and extends it, gun and all. I can feel his presence stretching thin inside of me as he pushes himself through space. Unsure what the hell I'm doing, I imagine his essence like it's a body. I imagine holding his hand and stretching along with him, helping him move farther than before.
The ax monster's arm pauses mid swing.
I hold my breath.
Slowly, the ax moves a trembling inch backward. And another.
Fuuuuuuck,Em says, and I can feel the strain as if it were my own muscles shoving down on that huge bastard's arm.
Another inch, but we're slow, and the monster's face is contorting as he pushes back against Em. Has being inside of me weakened the Terror? Are we failing? Is it my fault?
