I press my palm to it, and my fingers come away smeared red.
No. No, no.
I whisper the word before I even realize it’s out loud. “No…”
The air goes thin. I try to breathe, but it’s like sucking in static.
I look toward the SUV—Dima shouting orders, men loading Anton inside—but it’s getting harder to focus. The ground shifts.
I think of Grandma’s kitchen. Her humming while she cooked. The sound of her voice calling me.
I think of the apartment—the stupid cactus on my windowsill, the one I haven’t watered in a week.
And Anton—God, Anton—bleeding out in the back of that SUV.
I should be running to him. I should be screaming at them not to leave me. But my body won’t move. Everything inside me feels like it’s sliding apart.
Someone’s shouting my name. Dima maybe. The world narrows to lights and sound and pain.
I try to sit up, but the pain catches again, sharp enough to blind me. The gravel digs into my palms. My stomach turns.
It can’t be happening. It can’t—
I press my hand harder against myself, but it doesn’t stop. The blood keeps coming, warm against my skin.
A flash of memory hits. Anton’s voice earlier, steady and low:Stay behind me.
I didn’t.
“Mary!” Dima’s voice this time, closer.
I blink up at him, half sitting. The edges of his face blur in the siren light. I want to say something—anything—but my tongue feels heavy.
The sky spins. My ears fill with white noise.
I taste metal.
“I’m… I…”don’t know what’s happening…I breathe, though I don’t know if it’s a word or a thought anymore.
Dima catches me as I fall. His arm hooks around my shoulders before my head hits the ground. I can hear him shouting something, but it’s fading fast.
My last clear image is the SUV door slamming shut, the taillights cutting through the dark.
He’s gone.
And I’m still here, bleeding, shaking, holding on to nothing.
The sirens fade, replaced by the hum of wind over metal.
It’s almost quiet now. Almost peaceful.
For half a second, I let myself believe he’s still breathing. That this isn’t the end. That maybe when I open my eyes again, he’ll be there—alive, furious, whole.
But the darkness doesn’t care about belief. It just keeps coming.
And I fall into it.
Pain wakes me before sound does.
