Howard tries to respond to Karis, he really does, but the words die buried under those futile attempts to inhale. His body spasms in her arms. His vision's blurring out, and it takes him a few seconds to realize it's because he's crying. Tears drip from the corners of his eyes and in a sick parallel, saliva and foam trace down from the edges of his mouth.
And that's when he knows. It's time to pay back on that borrowed time. There's nothing he can do. It's not a danger he can outwit or an enemy he can plead with. For all the good any of his protests do, this is so certain that it might as well have already happened.
He didn't know it would hurt this much. He expected physical pain, but it's the fear that hurts the most, that and the sense of some unbelievable injustice having been committed in the universe. God, he's not even sixteen yet. He's not old enough to drink or vote or choose where to live and he's going to die without ever having seen New York City or been kissed or finished school. Here on the floor. So many miles away from home.
He's never going to know what happened to his mom and dad. Who's going to tell them? Who's going to tell them that they're very sorry, but Mr. and Mrs. Bassem, your son died of sepsis on some alien planet, scared and sick and in pain? Who's going to take care of Orc, who's going to feed the cats, who's going to remember where all the keys to the doors at his house are hidden?
His arm reaches out for Cedric, or for Karis, or even for Diana or for anyone, anything to hold on to. Someone to ground him here in this world. His head rests against Karis' arm and it feels warm, but that's only because he feels so cold. He shivers and convulses, lips turning blue, eyes wide and glassy and staring up at Karis. The edge of the world starts to creep in, the sounds getting dull and muddy, Diana's mocking and Cedric's concern fading into a blurry thumb of syllables in his ears.
He hopes it's warm and dark on the other side. He hopes it's quiet. He hopes that it's safe, that fear is like riding a coaster and that this is the peak and the rest is just the darker side of the biggest ride he's ever been on. But mostly he just hopes not to really die here.
no subject
And that's when he knows. It's time to pay back on that borrowed time. There's nothing he can do. It's not a danger he can outwit or an enemy he can plead with. For all the good any of his protests do, this is so certain that it might as well have already happened.
He didn't know it would hurt this much. He expected physical pain, but it's the fear that hurts the most, that and the sense of some unbelievable injustice having been committed in the universe. God, he's not even sixteen yet. He's not old enough to drink or vote or choose where to live and he's going to die without ever having seen New York City or been kissed or finished school. Here on the floor. So many miles away from home.
He's never going to know what happened to his mom and dad. Who's going to tell them? Who's going to tell them that they're very sorry, but Mr. and Mrs. Bassem, your son died of sepsis on some alien planet, scared and sick and in pain? Who's going to take care of Orc, who's going to feed the cats, who's going to remember where all the keys to the doors at his house are hidden?
His arm reaches out for Cedric, or for Karis, or even for Diana or for anyone, anything to hold on to. Someone to ground him here in this world. His head rests against Karis' arm and it feels warm, but that's only because he feels so cold. He shivers and convulses, lips turning blue, eyes wide and glassy and staring up at Karis. The edge of the world starts to creep in, the sounds getting dull and muddy, Diana's mocking and Cedric's concern fading into a blurry thumb of syllables in his ears.
He hopes it's warm and dark on the other side. He hopes it's quiet. He hopes that it's safe, that fear is like riding a coaster and that this is the peak and the rest is just the darker side of the biggest ride he's ever been on. But mostly he just hopes not to really die here.