That creepy little whisper I used to dread and despise.
At first, I thought I’d shut it out, but I was wrong. It left me.
And now, hearing it again?
I cherish it.
The ache in my chestfinallyeases for the first time in eleven days. I drag in a breath so sharp it stings. The air is always colder here, cleaner, medicinal. It fills me, soothes me, grounds me all at once.
He’s here.
Another inhale, a slower exhale.
For the first time in days, I can breathe. I canfinallyfuckingbreathe.
Was it always like this? Always this painless, this simple? I’ll never take it for granted again. Not the cold, the voice, this realm.
When the pain became too much, when Kacey found me crying on the bathroom floor, begging for release, I tried to come back here. But I couldn’t.
It wouldn’t let me. Like I was being punished.
Kacey’s serum dulled the edges, but never for long, never enough, never permanently.
But now, finally, the darkness welcomes me again, swaddling me in vines of darkness, eradicating the never-ending ache until it’s almost completely gone.
I’m only here for a second before it starts to fracture, like a glass dome cracking, light and colour splinter their way back in, but that’s all it takes. That’s all I needed.
I re-emerge.
Kacey startles at my sudden return. She stares at me, fresh tears shimmering in her eyes, but before she can speak—she jolts.
The temperature rises fast. So quickly, beads of sweat form along her forehead almost instantly.
She turns towards the heat, drawn to it, just as several ghostly creatures spawn around her—one of which is familiar.
Mr Bear.
I haven’t seen him since the night Kacey met her bond, but now he resumes his normal position like he never left. Stood behind Kacey, large paws resting gently on her shoulders, and when he glances at me with those empty purple eyes, it’s like he’s saying something. Something that brings warmth.
Then he turns, looking towards the heat.
And so do I.
There.
There he is.
I feel his gaze for a split second,barely catching a glimpse of his outline, I don’t even reach his face before—
He’s gone.
The ache hits instantly. I force myself to ignore it, but the once-pleasant chill is now piercing, slicing, and even the air feels like nettles prickling my skin.
The urge to find him, return to the cold, to him—
I bite my cheek, hard. The metallic tang of blood helping to ground me.
I can’t go to him. Not now. Not ever.
