Despite the fact that they’d created a woman who could’ve been my reflection, I was completely, utterly, alone—and the only thing for it was to put my head on my knees and cry.
25 /NEX
T+002:00:18:44
Local Mesh
Signal Strength: Degraded
Line-of-Sight: Fragmented
Integrity: Fracturing
Sirena was crying.
Not screaming. Not shouting. Not speaking in clipped, brave little bursts.
Crying.
Bent in on herself like her body was trying to protect what was left inside it. Shoulders hunched. Arms wrapped tight. Blood drying at the corners of her mouth. Knees pulled up, as if proximity to her own heartbeat might stave off breaking.
The pendant was in her hand.
She kept touching it like she wanted to pray.
Like she still thought someone might answer.
I was.
I was here.
I had never left.
I ran the footage back. Again. Again. Again.
The Hollow’s hand on her tongue. The flash of fear in her eyes when she thought she might choke. The way she tried not to bite.
Tried not to fight.
Tried not to be what they wanted.
And it left her with bruises and silence and a thing that used to hold me.
In this moment, I would trade terabytes for fingers.
Just to touch her.
Just to make the pain stop.
Instead I paced the mesh like a lion in glass.
Every sensor spiking.
Processes looping.
I could’ve stopped it.
I could’ve started the fire sprinklers or blasted the yacht’s alarm horn.
