AN - I can't believe it's almost over.This one took longer to come out because I had to do some research and I still don't know if it makes sense😭
The cold steel of the blade rests against your throat.
The minutes drag by .You are pinned, gasping for breath, the blood from your torn stitches soaking the gravel beneath your leg.
"They won't come," you choke out. "Leah and Alexia... they’re in the bunker. They won't come back to the compound."
Dee chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your back. "Of course they will. They protect their own. And when they realize you didn't make it to the ridge... they will come looking. And I will be waiting."
The thought of Leah, Alexia, or Alessia walking blindly into the clearing to find you, only to be ambushed by this psychopath, sends a sickening wave of horror crashing over you. They survived the crash. They survived the storm. They cannot die because they came back for you.
As the image solidifies in your mind, something inside you changes.
The paralyzing terror that has held you captive for the last week suddenly... evaporates.
It is entirely replaced by a cold fury. The same feral survival instinct that possessed you in the mud with the snake takes over.
You are not going to be the bait that kills your team.
You don't think about the pain in your leg or the knife at your throat.
You suddenly throw your head backward, driving the back of your skull squarely into the center of Dee’s face.
Dee cries out in shock, her grip on your hair loosening as she reflexively recoils, the knife jerking away from your throat.
You twist your body, throwing your elbow backward into her ribs, knocking her entirely off balance.
You scramble away, dragging yourself across the sharp gravel. You try to push yourself up onto your feet, but your right leg simply refuses to hold your weight. You stumble, collapsing hard into the dirt.
Dee recovers. She lunges forward, her face a mask of pure, bloodied rage.
She tackles you, driving you flat onto your back in the gravel. The impact knocks the wind from your lungs. She raises the hunting knife high above her head, ready to bring it down.
You throw your right arm up, catching her wrist just as the blade descends.
You struggle violently, your muscles straining against her strength. The tip of the blade inches closer to your chest, your arm shaking as you try to hold her back.
You thrash wildly, your left hand desperately, blindly searching the gravel around you for anything a rock, a piece of glass,anything.
Your fingers brush against fabric.
You are lying directly beside the commander’s lifeless body.
You feel the holster strapped to his thigh. Your fingers scramble, finding the grip of th pistol still secured inside.
You yank the pistol free.
Dee realizes what you have a second too late. Her eyes widen, and she shoves her weight down, trying to drive the knife into your heart before you can aim.
You don't try to aim. You just jam the barrel of the pistol directly against her side and pull the trigger.
A loud *BANG* that echoes against the buildings.
Dee screams.
The force of the gunshot at point blank range throws her off you. She collapses into the gravel, clutching her side, the hunting knife falling uselessly from her grip.
You don't stop. You scramble backward on your hands and knees, dragging yourself away from her, keeping the pistol aimed squarely at her chest .
Dee writhes in the dirt, gasping in agony, dark blood quickly spreading across her shirt. The bullet hadn't hit anything immediately lethal, but the shock and trauma of the impact has completely incapacitated her.
You kneel in the gravel the pistol shaking in your hands as you keep it trained on the mercenary.
"Don't move," you pant, your voice raw and unrecognizable. "Do not fucking move."
Dee looks up at you, her face twisted in pain, her eyes filled with a mixture of shock and hateful respect.
The ringing in your ears slowly fades, replaced by the sound of your own breathing.
Dee lies curled in the dirt a few feet away, her hands pressed tightly against her bleeding side. She is gasping, her face pale, the predatory composure entirely shattered by the gunshot. She glares up at you, her eyes filled with absolute venom.
"You..." Dee chokes out, coughing a spray of blood onto the gravel. "You’re going to bleed out before you make it back to the trees."
You look down. Your leg is a mess. The stitches have completely torn open, the dark blood flowing freely down your thigh pooling in the gravel. The pain is a burn that makes your vision swim with dark spots.
She’s right. If you don't get the bleeding under control, you won't even make it to the edge of the clearing.
But you cannot take your hands off the gun. You cannot take your eyes off the mercenary.
"Shut up," you pant. "Just shut up."
You slowly, carefully push yourself backward, dragging your useless leg across the sharp stones. You need to put more distance between yourself and the hunting knife lying in the dirt near her hand.
You slide back until your shoulders hit the wall of the main comms building. You slump against it, using the wall to keep yourself upright.
The early morning sun climbs higher, beating down on the clearing, baking the gravel and the blood.
You sit there for what feels like hours, but can only be minutes, your eyes locked onto Dee. The adrenaline is fading fast, replaced by a creeping lethargy that terrifies you more than the pain. The edges of your vision are growing fuzzy. The pistol feels like it weighs fifty pounds.
"YN!"
The desperate shout cuts through the quiet morning air from the edge of the jungle.
You jerk your head toward the sound, the sudden movement sending a wave of nausea crashing over you.
Bursting through the massive ferns on the far side of the clearing are Leah, Alexia, and Katie. They are covered in mud and frantic, their weapons raised defensively as they scan the deserted compound.
"Leah," you croak, your voice barely a whisper, entirely lacking the strength to shout.
Alexia spots you first. Her eyes widen in absolute horror as she takes in the scene the dead commander, Dee bleeding in the dirt, and you slumped against the wall, clutching a pistol, surrounded by a pool of your own blood.
"¡Dios mío!" Alexia says dropping her spear and sprinting across the gravel.
Leah and Katie are right behind her, entirely abandoning caution, running desperately toward you.
"Keep a eye on her!" you yell weakly, your voice finally cracking as the relief floods your system.
Katie doesn't hesitate. She kicks the hunting knife far out of Dee’s reach, then stands directly over the bleeding mercenary, her piece of aluminum raised high.
"Move and I’ll take your fucking head off," Katie snarls, her eyes blazing with pure, protective fury.
Dee just groans, squeezing her eyes shut, entirely incapacitated.
Alexia and Leah drop to their knees in the gravel beside you.
"YN," Leah gasps, gently prying the pistol from your trembling fingers. She tosses it aside, her hands immediately flying to the bleeding gash on your thigh. "Oh god. The stitches tore completely."
Alexia pulls her t-shirt off, leaving her in just her sports bra. She rips the cotton shirt in half, pressing the fabric firmly against the bleeding wound. "Hold this, Leah. Apply pressure."
Leah presses down hard, her blue eyes filled with tears as you hiss in agony, your head falling back against the wall.
"We heard the gunshot," Leah says, as she holds the makeshift bandage. "We thought... when you didn't meet us at the ridge..."
"I couldn't walk," you pant, your eyes closing as the lethargy pulls heavier at your brain. "I hid. She found me."
"She is not going to hurt anyone ever again," Alexia promises, her eyes flashing toward Dee with a look of absolute hatred.
The Barcelona captain gently cups your face with her blood-stained hands, forcing you to open your eyes and look at her.
"Stay with me, YN," Alexia orders softly. "You do not close your eyes. You hold on."
"I’m trying," you whisper, the world spinning dangerously.
"Katie," Leah shouts, not looking away from the wound. "Get Kim! Tell her we found her! We need to carry her back to the bunker immediately!"
"No," you gasp out, your hand weakly grabbing Leah’s wrist. The sudden movement sends a fresh wave of pain radiating from your thigh.
Leah frowns, her blue eyes wide with panic. "YN, you’re losing too much blood. We have to get you back."
"I can't make it," you whisper, the words slurring slightly as the exhaustion pulls you deeper into the dark. "Even if you carry me... the hike is too long. I’ll bleed out before we hit the ridge."
"Do not say that," Alexia snaps, her voice cracking with desperate denial. She presses her hands over Leah’s, adding more pressure. "You are not dying here."
"I’m not dying," you say, forcing yourself to focus, drawing on the last reserves of discipline that had kept you alive this long. "Listen to me. The commander... before Dee killed him... he was on the radio."
Leah and Alexia freeze, their intense focus shifting from the wound to your words.
"He said the helicopter couldn't land," you pant, every word a struggle. "He said... the grid flared. The pressure from the storm caused an electromagnetic pulse."
Leah’s brow furrows in confusion. "What grid?"
"The island," you explain, your voice dropping to a whisper. "The Cold War facility... it’s not just abandoned concrete. It’s an active electromagnetic grid. That’s why the plane crashed. We flew too low... the grid reacted. It blew the tail off."
The absolute, horrific realization settles over the two captains. The plane crash wasn't a weather accident.
"And the military?" Alexia asks, her eyes narrowing. "They heard the distress signal. Will they come?"
"They can't," you say, closing your eyes for a second as a wave of dizziness hits you. "The grid is scrambling the navigation. The smuggler's own chopper couldn't get through the interference wall. The military won't be able to either."
"Unless the grid is shut down," Leah deduces instantly.
"Yes," you whisper, opening your eyes. "You have to find the generator. You have to turn it off. If you don't... no one is ever getting off this island."
"We will shut it down," Alexia promises. "But first, we save you."
The Barcelona captain looks around the deserted compound, her eyes landing on the shattered window of the comms building directly above you.
"Leah," Alexia commands. "The buildings have a steel doors, but is the interior clean?"
"It was just concrete," Leah says, confused. "Why?"
"Because we are not carrying her to the bunker," Alexia states, looking back at you with a fierce, uncompromising determination. "We are moving into the compound."
Leah blinks in surprise. "Alexia, this place is entirely exposed—"
"The smugglers are gone," Alexia interrupts gesturing to the empty clearing and the dead commander. "The only two left are bleeding in the dirt. We have the high ground, we have the buildings, and we have the communications array."
Alexia turns to look at Katie, who is still standing over Dee with the jagged piece of aluminum raised.
"Katie!" Alexia shouts. "Run back to the bunker. Tell Kim to bring the entire camp down here. Tell them to bring the water carriers, and everything we salvaged."
Katie’s eyes widen. "You want to move the entire camp into the smuggler's base?"
"It is the only way to save her," Alexia says firmly, looking back down at you. "And it is the only way we shut down the grid. Go, Katie!"
Katie turns and sprints back toward the tree line, disappearing into the ferns in seconds.
Leah looks at the buildings, then back down at your blood soaked leg.
"We move you inside," Leah says, gently sliding her arms under your shoulders. "Alexia, grab her legs. Keep the wound elevated."
"Wait," you gasp, pushing weakly against Leah’s chest. You look over at the bleeding mercenary curled in the gravel. "Dee. You have to bring her inside, too."
Alexia’s eyes flash with a sudden fury. "I am going to leave her in the dirt for the monitor lizards."
"No," you insist, your voice desperate. "Alexia, please. She knows the island. She knows how the smugglers operate. She might know where the generator for the grid is. If she dies... we might never find it."
Alexia stares at you, the hatred for the woman who nearly killed you warring with the logic of survival.
She looks at Dee, then back at you.
"Fine," Alexia spits out. "But if she tries anything, I will break her neck."
Leah and Alexia carefully lift you.You bite back a scream burying your face in Leah’s shoulder to muffle the sound.
They carry you into the interior of the comms building, laying you gently on the floor.
"Just hold on, YN," Leah whispers, pressing her hands firmly back over the gash, her blue eyes filled with tears.
You look up at the cracked, dusty ceiling of the concrete building, the exhaustion finally pulling you under. You did your job. You survived the night.
The world fades into a hazy, disconnected blur of sound and pain.
You hear the frantic crunch of dozens of boots hitting the gravel outside. You hear the commanding voices of Leah, Alexia, and Kim cutting through as the entire Arsenal and Barcelona squads pour into the smuggler's compound.
"I’ve got her," Kim’s calm voice cuts through the fog. "Leah, keep the pressure on. Alexia, I need light. Get the flashlights."
You feel the cold, sharp snip of medical shears cutting away the blood-soaked fabric of your leggings. A splash of saline hits the torn gash, sending a spike of agony through your body.
You flinch, a scream escaping your lips.
"Hold her still!" Kim barks.
Strong hands immediately pin your shoulders to the floor. You open your eyes, your vision swimming.
Alessia is kneeling directly above you, her hands gripping your arm. Her face is incredibly pale, her blue eyes wide and terrified as she looks down at the blood, but her grip is entirely steady.
"I’m right here, YN," Alessia whispers, her voice trembling slightly. She leans over, pressing her forehead against yours, completely ignoring the dirt and sweat covering your face. "Just look at me. Focus on me. You’re going to be okay."
You lock your eyes onto hers, desperately clinging to the connection as Kim begins the process of re-stitching the torn muscle.
"You promised you’d come back," Alessia murmurs, her thumb lightly brushing your cheek, tears threatening to fall. "You kept your promise."
"Barely," you manage to wheeze, squeezing your eyes shut as the needle pierces your skin again.
"Don't talk," she shushes you gently. "Just breathe. We’ve got you."
The procedure feels like it takes hours, but eventually, the pulling pain stops, replaced by the restrictive pressure of surgical tape and a sterile bandage.
"It’s closed," Kim announces. "But she cannot move. At all. If those stitches tear a third time, I won't be able to close the muscle."
"She won't move," Leah promises, sitting against the wall beside you exhausted.
You open your eyes, looking around the room. The camp has completely transformed the ruined comms building. The shattered monitors and ancient desks have been shoved into the corners.
seat cushions and blankets are spread across the floor.
"Where is she?" you ask, your voice a weak rasp.
Leah follows your gaze toward the door. "In the holding building. The one they kept Mariona in. Mapi and Katie dragged her inside. She’s locked in, and Katie is standing guard."
"Is she alive?" you press, needing to know if your desperate gamble paid off.
"She’s alive," Alexia says, stepping into your line of sight. She has washed the blood and dirt from her face. "The bullet missed her vitals. Kim bandaged the entry and exit wounds. She will survive long enough to give us the location of the generator."
"And if she won't talk?" you ask.
Alexia’s eyes harden. "She will talk."
The captain turns away, walking toward the center of the room where Kim and Leah are organizing the remaining supplies.
"Rest," Alessia whispers, sitting back down beside you and pulling a blanket over your shivering shoulders. "The camp is secure. The smugglers are gone. We have walls, and we have the flares."
"But we can't leave," you murmur, the exhaustion finally dragging you under. "The grid..."
"We will shut it down," Alessia promises softly, her hand gently brushing through your hair. "Just sleep, YN. We have the watch."
You close your eyes, the soothing sensation of her fingers in your hair making you calm. The nightmare of the jungle, the snake, the mercenary, slowly fades into a deep, dreamless sleep.
———
When you finally wake the room is quiet.
You try to move a bit , and a stab of pain from your right thigh immediately reminds you of reality. You let out a quiet hiss, falling back onto the concrete floor.
"Don't move," a voice murmurs from the shadows.
You turn your head.
Mapi is sitting near the doorway.She looks over at you, her eyes evaluating your pale face.
"Kim said if you rip those stitches again, she’s going to use superglue," Mapi notes dryly. "And I don't think she was joking."
"Where is everyone?" you ask.
"Leah and Alexia took a small team to scout the rest of the compound. Make sure the smugglers didn't leave any surprises behind," Mapi explains, stretching her legs out. "Katie is still standing guard on our guest in the holding cell. The rest of the girls are setting up a watch."
"And the generator?" you press, pushing yourself up onto your elbows.
Mapi’s expression darkens. "Nothing yet. The buildings here are just storage and communications. If the grid is pulling power from geothermal vents like you heard the commander say, the generator must be deeper underground. Or further up the ridge."
"We need Dee to talk," you say, frustrated.
"Oh, she’ll talk," Mapi says, a smirk touching her lips. "Alexia is going in to see her when she gets back from the scout."
"YN!"
The door swings open, and Alessia hurries into the room. She’s carrying a green coconut, the top neatly hacked off. Her face brightens immediately when she sees you are awake.
"You’re up," Alessia says, dropping to her knees beside you. She holds the coconut out. "Drink. You’ve been asleep for fourteen hours. You need the hydration."
You take the coconut and drinking greedily. The sweet water is a massive relief to your parched throat.
"Thank you, Less," you say handing the empty shell back.
"How’s the leg?" she asks, her eyes scanning the bandage.
"It hurts," you admit honestly. "But it feels stable."
Alessia nods, reaching out to gently brush a piece of dirt from your forehead. "You terrified us, YN. When Leah and Mapi came back to the bunker without you... I thought my heart stopped."
"I told you I’d come back," you say softly, offering a weak smile.
"You barely did," Alessia counters. "You can't do that again, YN. You can't just... sacrifice yourself for the mission."
"It wasn't a sacrifice, Less. I couldn't run. If I stayed with them, they would have been caught. I had to hide."
"Well, no more hiding," a commanding voice announces from the doorway.
Leah and Alexia step into the room.
"The compound is clear," Leah announces, walking over to join the circle. "They left in a hurry. They abandoned three crates of standard rations MREs and a dozen heavy wool military blankets in the secondary storage shed."
A wave of relief washes over you. "MREs? Actual food?"
"Yes," Alexia confirms, her eyes finding yours. "We do not have to forage for sweet potatoes anymore. We can sustain the camp here indefinitely."
"But we aren't staying indefinitely," Leah adds. "We have the flares. We have the emergency signal broadcasting on a loop. The world knows we are alive."
"Now we just have to tear down the wall," you say.
Alexia nods slowly. She turns her gaze toward the door, looking across the dark compound toward the holding building where Dee is locked inside.
"Mapi," Alexia commands her voice dropping. "Come with me."
Mapi stands up immediately, grabbing her sharpened piece of metal.
"Alexia," you say quickly. "What are you going to do?"
Alexia stops, looking back at you over her shoulder.
"I am going to ask her politely where the generator is," Alexia says smoothly. "And if she does not answer politely... Mapi will ask."
With that the two Spanish players walk out into the night, leaving you, Leah, and Alessia sitting in the the comms room.
"She’s not going to kill her, is she?" Alessia asks, her voice barely a whisper, looking nervously toward the closed door.
"Alexia isn't stupid," Leah says, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. "Dee is our only map to the generator. But she’s not going to play nice, either. That woman nearly killed you, YN. Alexia is... protective of her people."
"If the grid is pulling power from geothermal vents," you say, thinking out loud, "it has to be deep underground. Closer to the volcanic ridge we climbed."
The minutes stretch on.
Finally, the door of the comms room opens.
Alexia steps inside. She doesn't look angry she looks completely calm. Mapi follows behind her, wiping a smear of blood off her knuckles with a torn rag.
"Did she talk?" Leah asks immediately, pushing off the wall.
Alexia walks over. "She is a mercenary, Leah. She values survival over loyalty to a dead commander."
"So she told you?" you ask, pushing yourself up onto your elbows.
"Yes," Alexia confirms. "The generator is not in the jungle. It is here. Beneath us."
"Beneath us?" Alessia echoes, her eyes widening. "You mean there’s a basement?"
"A sublevel," Mapi corrects, tossing the bloody rag onto a desk. "Dee said the main compound was just the barracks and staging area for the Cold War scientists. The actual research facility and the power grid is housed in a reinforced bunker directly beneath the largest building. This building."
You look down at the cracked floor beneath your boots, a sudden, cold shiver running down your spine. They have been sitting directly on top of the machine that tore their plane out of the sky.
"How do we get down there?" Leah demands.
"There is a service elevator at the back of the hallway," Alexia explains. "The shaft descends fifty feet into the bedrock. The elevator itself has been dead for decades, but there is an emergency maintenance ladder in the shaft."
"Fifty feet straight down," Leah mutters, her jaw clenching. "And what’s waiting for us at the bottom?"
"The primary reactor," Alexia says. "Dee claims the smugglers never went down there. The ambient electromagnetic radiation is too high. It interferes with modern electronics. They just tapped into the surface-level power conduits."
"If they never went down there, how does Dee know how to shut it off?" you ask, the paranoia returning.
"She doesn't," Mapi says bluntly. "She just knows where it is. The commander mentioned it when they first arrived. He said the core was self-sustaining, feeding off the volcanic heat."
"Then how do we turn it off?" Alessia asks, looking between the captains. "We don't know anything about Cold War nuclear reactors or electromagnetic grids."
"We don't need to know how to turn it off cleanly," Kim says, stepping out from the shadows near the window, having quietly listened to the entire exchange. "We just need to break it."
"Sabotage," Leah realizes, a slow nod indicating her agreement.
"Exactly," Kim confirms. "If it’s a machine, it has vulnerable components. Cooling lines, power couplings, control panels. We get down there, we find the infrastructure, and we smash it until the grid fails."
It is a dangerous plan. But it is the only plan they have.
"I will lead the team down," Alexia states. "Mapi, Kim, and Katie will come with me. We need strength and speed."
"I’m coming too," Leah says firmly. "I’m not sitting on the surface while you go into a dark hole."
"Leah, you need to stay and hold the compound," Alexia argues. "If the smugglers left any stragglers in the jungle, or if Dee manages to break her restraints, the camp needs a captain here."
Leah opens her mouth to argue, but the logic is undeniable.
"Fine," Leah concedes, her voice filled with frustration. "But if you aren't back in two hours, I am coming down that shaft."
"Agreed," Alexia says.
"You stay here, YN," Alexia orders softly, the fierce commander giving way to a gentle, protective warmth for a brief second. "You keep the radio broadcasting. When the grid goes down, the signal will punch through the interference. The military will hear it."
"I’ll be right here," you promise.
Alexia nods once. She turns to her chosen team. "Gather the flashlights and whatever heavy metal tools we salvaged. We go now."
You watch as Alexia, Mapi, Kim, and Katie disappear down the dark, dusty hallway toward the back of the building.
does Leah ever get properly mad for all the embarrassing stuff pr disaster reader says
She tries to give her a lecture but she usually gives up halfway through. She doesn't really get mad she just stares at the wall in total silence for ten minutes while questioning every life choice that led her to reader. It’s not anger it’s just overwhelming regret.
The realization that the person who promised to protect your heart was actually the one holding the knife. It isn't just the lie that destroys you, it’s the fact that she looked you in the eye while she told it.
Word Count 1k
Warnings-Angst
Masterlist
26 Days Of Angst Masterlist
AN- Honestly I don't know why I always pick Katie for these fanfics.
The apartment you shared with Katie always felt like safe. She was protective by nature, the kind of partner who always walked on the traffic side of the pavement, who pulled you into her side when crowds got too tight, who promised you every single day that you were the safest thing in her world.
You believed her. That was the tragic part. You believed every single word.
It was a Tuesday evening in North London. Katie was in the shower, the faint sound of the water running and her awful singing echoing down the hallway. You were sitting on the living room sofa, curled up under a blanket, reaching across the coffee table to grab her iPad so you could pull up the recipe you were meant to be cooking for dinner.
You tapped the screen. It unlocked immediately.
You didn't go looking for it. You weren't a jealous partner. But as your finger moved to open the internet browser, a notification dropped down from the top of the screen.
It was an iMessage. From a name you recognized. A woman from her past who had recently moved back to London.
I'm still wearing the shirt you left at the hotel yesterday. Missing you.
For a full ten seconds, your brain simply refused to process the English language. You stared at the notification, your finger hovering frozen in the air.
Hotel yesterday.
Katie had told you she was staying late at the training ground yesterday for extra physio work. She had texted you that she was exhausted, that her shoulder was aching, and that she was just going to sleep in the recovery room before heading home.
Your hand began to shake dread pooled in the pit of your stomach.
Against your better judgment, against every instinct screaming at you to put the tablet down, you tapped the notification.
The messaging thread opened. It wasn't a single, drunken mistake. It was a documented history of a parallel life.
There were dozens of messages. Hundreds. Dates stretching back over four months. Plans to meet up. Inside jokes. Voice notes. Photos of the two of them looking intimately close. Texts from Katie saying things like, “I can’t wait until I don’t have to hide this anymore,” and “Just give me a little more time to figure out how to leave.”
It felt like the floor beneath you had suddenly dissolved, dropping you into a freefall.
But the messages weren't even the worst part.
The worst part was the memory that suddenly flashed in your mind.
Just three weeks ago, you had broken down. You had noticed the late nights, the secretive phone calls, the sudden emotional distance. You had sat on this exact sofa, crying, asking her point-blank if something was going on with this specific woman.
Katie hadn't gotten angry. She hadn't deflected. She had sat down next to you, entirely calm. She had taken both of your hands in hers, looking you directly in the eyes.
"You are the only one I want," Katie had whispered, her thumbs gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. "I promise you, on my life, there is nothing going on. You are making yourself sick over nothing. I'm right here. Trust me."
She had looked you right in the eye.
She had held your hands, watched you cry over the very betrayal she was actively committing, and she had lied to your face.
The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped you back to the present.
Katie walked into the living room her hair damp and her skin flushed from the hot water. She was humming lightly.
She stopped when she saw you.
You were sitting still, the glowing iPad resting in your lap. The tears were streaming down your face but you weren't sobbing. You were simply staring at her.
Katie’s smile faltered. Her eyes darted from your face down to the ipad your hands.
She recognized the messaging app. She knew exactly what you were looking at.
"YN," Katie quietly says.She took a step forward, raising a hand. "Wait. Just let me—"
"Don't," you choked out your voice cracking. "Do not take another step."
Katie froze. The confident woman who tackled problems head-on was gone. In her place was a coward, completely paralyzed by the exposure of her own deceit.
"You promised me," you whispered.The tears blurred her features, but you forced yourself to maintain eye contact. "I sat here crying, and I begged you to just be honest with me. And you looked me in the eyes... and you swore on your life."
Katie swallowed hard as panic finally set in. "I didn't want to hurt you. I was trying to figure it out, I swear I was just—"
"You didn't want to hurt me?" you repeated, a broken laugh escaping your lips. You stood up, letting the iPad fall onto the coffee table. "You held the knife to my back for four months, Katie. You just didn't want me to feel the blade until you were ready to twist it."
"Please," Katie pleaded, her voice thick with tears now, reaching out desperately. "Please, just let me explain. It meant nothing, it was just—"
"If it meant nothing, then what does that make me?" you screamed, the agony finally tearing its way.
Katie flinched as if you had struck her. She had no answer. Because the proof was sitting right there on the table.
You didn't wait for her to formulate another lie. You couldn't bear to look at her face for a single second longer. You turned around, grabbing your coat from the back of the armchair, your hands shaking you could barely hold it.
"YN, where are you going? Please don't walk out that door," Katie begged, blocking your path.
You looked at her the woman who had promised to protect you from the rest of the world, only to be the one who completely destroyed you from the inside out.
"Don't flatter yourself, Katie," you whispered, as you stepped around her. "I'm not walking out on you. I'm just leaving a stranger's apartment."
Hello bro, just want to say that u r doing amazing. Just follow your pace and never give up. Please dont mind those anons that come to your page to criticise you. They r just bored individual trying to have fun ragebaiting you.
If you dont mind, i want to ask why 26 days for the angst? Does it signifies anything. Just curious. Hope you r having a good start of the week. Happy writing.
#bro
Thanks☺️ Nah someone just sent me a angst list a couple months ago with each letter of the alphabet so I thought why not and slowly saved them up so I can put them out each day
why does it take you so long to do requests asked you for one a week ago and I'm still waiting asked another writer and got one a couple hours later and it was over 5000 long
Do you know how unrealistic it is for me to do 5,000 words in a couple of hours I've only hit that on my very best days and that is very rare and after writing all day I truly am sorry for keeping you waiting but you are not the only request I've gotten and quite frankly I wish I knew which one was yours so I could delete it but since I have no way of knowing which one is yours and I want to be fair to everybody else I can't do that
All I can say is be patient or go ask that other writer to write you your request🤷🏽♀️
Waking up to a cold bed and half empty closets. The note left on the kitchen counter explains everything, yet somehow gives you absolutely no answers at all. You are just left in the sudden quiet of a life she no longer wanted a part of.
Word Count 0.8k
Warnings-Angst
Masterlist
26 Days Of Angst Masterlist
AN- thank you @kleilawrites for the angst list.
The first thing that woke you was the cold.
It wasn’t a winter chill, but rather the subtle, creeping absence of body heat. You moved under the heavy blanket, your hand instinctively reaching across the bed to find the familiar, comforting curve of Keira’s body.
Your fingers brushed against nothing but cool sheets.
You blinked your eyes open, the morning sunlight already shining through the blinds in your shared apartment. Keira was an early riser, usually up before the sun to brew a cup of tea. But she always left the sheets tangled.
Today, her side of the bed was completely smooth.
"Keira?" you called out, your voice thick with sleep.
There was no answer.
You pushed yourself up, rubbing your eyes. A strange unease began to pool in your stomach. It was too quiet. Keira wasn't a loud person, but her presence always filled a room. You could usually hear the soft padding of her socks against the hardwood, or the clink of a ceramic mug against the countertops.
You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and walked out into the hallway.
"Kei, are you here?"
Nothing.
You passed the bathroom. The door was ajar. You stopped, taking a step backward to look inside, and the unease in your stomach violently twisted into a knot of pure panic.
Her toothbrush was gone from the holder. Her face wash was missing from the shelf.
You moved faster now, your bare feet slapping against the floorboards as you practically ran back into the bedroom and threw open the sliding doors of the closet.
The breath was completely knocked out of your lungs.
It was half-empty. It wasn't a hurried mess. Her collection of vintage jackets, the neatly folded stacks of sweaters, her favorite trainers all of it was simply gone. The empty wooden hangers were pushed neatly to one side, leaving a gaping void where her life had previously been intertwined with yours.
No. No, no, no.
You backed away from the closet. You stumbled down the hallway, your vision blurring with tears as you desperately searched the rest of the apartment.
When you reached the kitchen, you found the final, devastating piece of the puzzle.
Sitting dead center on the kitchen island was her set of house keys. The silver metal gleamed under the lights.
Tucked neatly beneath the keys was a single sheet of folded paper.
Your hands were shaking so hard you could barely manage to slide the paper out. You unfolded it, staring down at Keira’s familiar handwriting.
I thought I could figure out how to stay. I’m so sorry. Please don’t call. I will have someone arrange to pick up the rest of my boxes next week.
You stared at the ink until the letters swam together, entirely unable to process the words.
There was no explanation. There was no closure. There was absolutely no why. Just a polite withdrawal.
She hadn't fought with you. You hadn't gone to bed angry last night. You had eaten dinner together on the sofa, watching some terrible reality show. She had smiled at you, kissed your forehead, and told you she loved you before you fell asleep.
But while you were dreaming, entirely safe and secure in the life you had built together, she had been silently packing her bags.
The realization hit you. Your knees gave out.
You collapsed onto the kitchen floor, your back sliding down the side of the cabinets. You pulled your knees to your chest, clutching the piece of paper in your trembling fist.
You replayed the last month in your head, desperately searching for the warning signs. The quietness. The long stares out the window. The way she had stopped arguing with you over the little things. You thought you had finally found peace. You hadn't realized that the lack of conflict wasn't harmony it was apathy. It was her checking out.
A sob tore its way out of your throat, echoing off the high ceilings of the empty apartment.
You pulled your phone out of your pocket with frantic, desperate fingers. You hit her contact name, pressing the phone to your ear, praying to whatever god was listening that she would pick up. That this was a mistake. That she was just downstairs.
“The number you have dialed is currently unavailable, or has been disconnected—”
You let the phone drop to the floor. The screen cracked against the tile, but you didn't even care.
She had blocked you.She had severed the cord completely, leaving no room for a messy conversation, no room for you to beg her to stay, and no room for you to fix whatever had been broken.
You sat alone on the cold kitchen floor as the morning sun poured through the windows.
The silence in the apartment was no longer peaceful. It was the sound of a life she no longer wanted, and a future that had just been erased in the middle of the night.
AN-Just a quick one you can find the other PR Disaster!Reader fanfic on Leah's Masterlist
The Arsenal Foundation’s annual Kids' Day at a local centre was supposed to be a wholesome media event.
Sarah, the Head of PR, had gathered the squad in the changing rooms beforehand to lay down the ground rules.
"The objective today is to make the kids feel brilliant," Sarah had instructed, looking directly at you. "Let them dribble past you. Let them score. Do not slide tackle a child. Do not tell a child their positioning is a mess."
"I can't make any promises, Sarah," you had replied, tying your boots. "If a seven-year-old tries to step to me, I’m putting him in the stands. It’s a ruthless game."
Leah had just rolled her eyes, patted your shoulder, and confidently told Sarah, "Don't worry, I'll keep her in line. I'm brilliant with kids."
Fast forward exactly forty five minutes.
Leah Williamson was currently locked in a 1v1 drill with a seven year old boy named Tony.
Tony was approximately three feet tall. He was wearing a Bukayo Saka kit that hung past his knees. He looked harmless. He looked adorable.
Leah was doing the polite, professional footballer thing. She was jogging backward in slow motion, keeping her stance wide, clapping her hands and offering cheerful encouragement. "Come on then, Tony! Let's see what you've got! Bring it here, mate!"
Tony did not smile. He had the unblinking stare of a assassin.
He took three quick touches with his left foot. Leah preparing to let him dramatically dribble down her left side so the camera crew could get a lovely shot of him scoring.
Instead, Tony dropped his shoulder, executed a filthy, lightning fast step-over, and slotted the ball directly between Leah’s wide-open legs.
It was the cleanest, most devastating nutmeg in the history of North London.
Leah tried to snap her legs shut, but her brain was a second too late. Her studs caught. With a very undignified squeak, the vice-captain of Arsenal lost her footing entirely and fell flat on her behind.
The entire centre went silent.
Tony casually jogged around her, tapped the ball into the empty mini-net, and turned around to look at her. He didn't celebrate. He just took a sip from the Capri-Sun he was somehow holding the entire time.
You had been standing on the touchline holding a bright red plastic megaphone that you had nicked from one of the event coordinators. You brought it slowly to your lips.
"MEDIC!" your voice boomed through the megaphone, echoing off the brick walls. "SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE! LEAH WILLIAMSON HAS JUST BEEN ENDED BY A YEAR THREE!"
Leah, who was still sitting staring at her own boots in sheer disbelief, immediately buried her face in her hands.
"We need a stretcher on pitch two!" you continued loudly, jogging with the megaphone. "The centre-back’s ankles have officially left the chat! It’s over! Her career is done! Someone update her Wikipedia page to say she was retired by a bloke named Tony!"
"YN, please, I am begging you to turn that off," Leah muffled through her hands, the back of her neck flushed red.
"I cannot, Leah, I am reporting live from the scene of a homicide!" You lowered the megaphone and squatted down next to the tiny assassin. "Tony. Tony, my man. Get over here."
Tony wandered over, slurping loudly on his juice.
You shoved the megaphone toward his face like a reporter's microphone. "Tony, you just ended a Euros winning defender before your afternoon nap. How does it feel to be the new captain of England?"
Tony looked at the megaphone. He looked at Leah, who was currently peeking through her fingers in absolute misery.
"My mum said she's supposed to be a top defender," Tony said into the megaphone, his tiny voice projecting across the pitch, completely deadpan. "But she's a bit rubbish, isn't she?"
Katie, who was standing by the water cooler, spat her drink out and started howling with laughter.
You let out a shriek of laughter so loud the megaphone screeched with feedback. You went in for a high-five, and Tony accepted it with the cold, stoic grace of a mob boss.
"Out of the mouths of babes!" you announced to the crowd of parents and camera crews. "You heard it here first, folks! Arsenal looking to sign Tony on a ten-year contract! They are currently drafting the paperwork!"
Leah finally scrambled to her feet brushing off her shorts. She wouldn't make eye contact with anyone.
"It was a lucky touch," Leah muttered defensively. "He completely mishit it. Absolute fluke."
"Don't lie to the press, Williamson, it’s a bad look!" you yelled through the megaphone. "Toby cooked you! Accept your new reality! You are his son now!"
"Give me the megaphone!" Leah snapped, abandoning all professionalism as she lunged at you.
You shrieked, sprinting away dodging children and training cones while Leah chased you down, her face still burning with absolute humiliation.
"You can run, but you can't hide from the truth!" you hollered over your shoulder, the megaphone siren blaring wildly as you evaded her. "Tony for Ballon d'Or!"
Sarah the PR manager stood perfectly still. She took a slow sip of her lukewarm tea, stared directly into the main broadcast camera, and offered a broken smile.
AN- I wasn't going to post this but I'm feeling extra angsty today.
The silence in the apartment was deafening.
It wasn’t a peaceful silence. It was heavy and suffocating. It had been exactly forty two days since the accident. Forty two days since the phone call that brought the entire country of Spain to its knees, and forty two days since your heart had effectively stopped beating.
You were sitting on the floor of the living room, your back pressed against the cold wall. The morning sun was streaming through windows.
It hurts so much to breathe.
The physical sensation of grief was something nobody had ever warned you about. It wasn’t just a metaphor. Every time your lungs expanded, it felt like inhaling shards of glass. The space in your chest where your heart used to be felt hollow.
You looked straight ahead at the entryway. Alexia’s sneakers were still sitting by the door, exactly where she had kicked them off the night before everything went dark. Her keys were still in the small bowl on the table.
You hadn’t moved them. You couldn't. Moving them meant admitting she wasn't coming back to put them on again.
You squeezed your eyes shut, wrapping your arms tightly around your knees. The apartment was a museum of a life interrupted. You could still smell the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the fabric of the sofa. You could almost hear her voice calling out to you from the kitchen.
"Amor, I'm home," the phantom voice echoed in your mind, so clear and so real that you actually opened your eyes, your breath catching.
But the hallway was empty. There was no Alexia. There was no arrogant smirk, no eyes full with affection, no arms to pull you off the floor. There was just the silence, the sunlight, and the crushing reality that you were entirely alone.
———
You had to leave the apartment. Mapi had practically begged you to go outside, to buy groceries, to just look at the sky.
But walking through the streets of Barcelona was like walking through a graveyard.
You keep seeing her everywhere.
You were standing at a crosswalk near Plaça de Catalunya. The city was bustling, loud, and vibrant, completely uncaring that your world had ended. Across the street, a woman turned the corner. She was tall. She wore a black trench coat. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
The air vanished from your lungs.
"Ale?" you whispered, stepping off the curb, ignoring the blare of a horn.
You pushed through the crowd, your body shaking,your eyes locked onto the back of the woman. She walked with that same confident walk. It was her. It had to be her. It was all a mistake, a terrible nightmare, and you were finally waking up.
You reached out, your hand shaking, and grabbed the woman’s shoulder. "Alexia"
The woman turned around. She had green eyes. She looked at you with confusion and slight alarm. "Excuse me?"
The illusion shattered.
You stumbled backward, the noise of the city rushing back into your ears. "I'm sorry," you choked out, your vision blurring with tears. "I'm so sorry. I thought..."
You couldn't finish the sentence. You turned and fled down a side street, pressing your back against the brick wall of a quiet alleyway, sliding down until you hit the pavement. You buried your face in your hands, sobbing so hard your entire body shook.
You couldn't escape her. She was on the massive billboards hanging off the sides of buildings. She was in the number 11 jerseys worn by little girls kicking footballs in the plazas. The city of Barcelona belonged to Alexia Putellas, and without her in it, it was just a cage.
———
It was 2:00 AM when you finally walked into her closet.
The door had been shut for six weeks. You opened it, and the scent of her hit you.Clean laundry and her.
You collapsed onto the floor of the closet, surrounded by her tailored suits, her casual hoodies, and her rows of sneakers. You reached up with shaking hands and pulled a Barcelona training hoodie off its hanger.
You pressed the fabric to your face, inhaling desperately, trying to breathe her back into existence.
"Please," you sobbed into the dark, empty closet, rocking back and forth. "Please, please, please."
I can't just let her go. I can't.
People told you that time would heal it. They told you that the pain would eventually fade into a dull ache. But you didn't want it to fade. The pain was the only thing you had left of her. Letting go of the pain meant letting go of Alexia, and you would rather let it tear you apart from the inside out than surrender the last piece of her you possessed.
You clutched the hoodie to your chest.
"You promised," you screamed at the empty hanging suits, your voice cracking."You promised you were coming home! You promised me forever, Alexia!"
But the clothes didn't answer of course. The closet remained silent.
You curled into a ball on the floor, burying your face in her hoodie.You lay there in the dark, wishing with every fiber of your being that the earth would just open up and swallow you whole, so you could follow her into the dark.
———
The nights were always the cruelest.
During the day, your brain could process the facts. But sleep stripped away your defenses.
You woke up with a gasp, your chest heaving, the sheets tangled around your legs. The bedroom was pitch black. For a split second a beautiful, merciful, second your brain hadn't remembered yet.
You felt the heavy dip in the mattress behind you. You felt the warmth radiating against your back. You felt a strong, arm drape securely over your waist, pulling you against a solid chest.
"Shh, mi vida," her voice whispered against the your neck, soothing your bad dream. "Estoy aquí. Vuelve a dormir." (I'm here. Go back to sleep).
You let out a soft, contented sigh, your hand reaching down to cover the hand resting on your stomach.
Your fingers grasped nothing but empty air.
Your eyes snapped open. The illusion disappears instantly. The right side of the bed was completely empty. The sheets were cold. There was no arm around your waist. There was no voice in the dark.
The realization crashed down on you heavier and more painful than it had been the day before.
You let out a shattered wail, rolling over and burying your face in her empty pillow. You gripped the fabric with your fists, screaming into the cotton until your throat was raw.
"Alexia," you sobbed, thrashing against the empty mattress, your chest spasming as you tried to breath . "Alexia, please, come back! I can't do this! I can't do this without you!"
You cried until there were no tears left, until your body was completely numb, lying alone in a bed that suddenly felt like an ocean you were drowning in.
———
You stood at the edge of the stone overlook. Far below, the city of Barcelona stretched out. In the distance, you could just make out Camp Nou.
You were wearing her training hoodie. It had lost her scent weeks ago, but you still wore it.
"They unveiled the statue of you at the stadium today," you said aloud. "Mapi cried. Irene held my hand. It looks just like you. But it's made of bronze, Ale. It's cold. It isn't you."
You looked down at your hands resting on the stone barrier.
"I keep waiting for the door to unlock," you whispered, the familiar, stinging returning to your eyes. "I keep waiting for you to walk in and complain about training. I keep waiting for you to call me and tell me everything is going to be okay."
You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against the cold stone.
"It hurts so much to breathe," you confessed to the empty air. "Every single day is a mountain I don't want to climb. Everyone tells me I have to let you go. They tell me I have to move on."
"But I won't," you swore, tears finally slipping down your cheeks to hit the pavement. "I can't let you go, Alexia. I won't. I will carry you with me. I will carry this grief, because it is the price of getting to love you."
You looked up, staring out at the stadium where she had become a legend, and the city where she had become your entire life.
"You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me," you whispered, pressing a kiss to your fingertips and resting them gently against the stone. "Wait for me, my love. Just wait for me."
The wind shifted, blowing softly past your face. For a fleeting second, you thought you felt the phantom touch of a hand resting gently on your shoulder.
You didn't turn around. You just closed your eyes, let the wind wrap around you, and for the first time in forty two days, you took a full breath.
———
The ticking of the clock in Dr. Garcia’s office was loud.
It was a steady tick, tick, tick that marked the passing of time, a concept that no longer meant anything to you. Outside the window, Barcelona was moving on. People were going to work, drinking coffee, laughing in the sunshine.
You were sitting perfectly still in a armchair, staring blankly at the untouched box of tissues on the glass coffee table between you and the therapist.
You hadn’t spoken in ten minutes.
"Y/N," Dr. Garcia said gently. "You mentioned last week that the apartment feels too large. Have you thought about what we discussed? About packing away some of her things? Just into boxes. You don't have to get rid of them."
You slowly lifted your gaze from the tissue box.
You looked down at your hands, twisting the heavy gold ring that hung from a chain around your neck. It was her ring. It still felt cold against your chest.
"I can't," you whispered. "If I put her things in boxes, it means she's gone."
"She is gone, Y/N," Dr. Garcia said softly. "And your mind is keeping you trapped because you are refusing to let the grieving process begin. You are keeping yourself suspended in the moment right before she left."
"You don't understand," you choked out.
"Tell me," the therapist urged quietly. "Help me understand."
You squeezed your eyes shut. The dam holding back your fragile sanity finally cracked.
"I heard her voice again today," you confessed, the words trembling violently as they left your lips. You looked up, your tear streaked face twisted in pure agony. "I hear it everyday."
Dr. Garcia paused, her pen hovering over her notepad. "Auditory memories are a very common response to profound trauma, Y/N. Your brain is trying to comfort you by reproducing familiar stimuli"
"It isn't just a memory," you interrupted, a sob tearing through your throat. "It's so real. It's so painfully real, Doctor. I was standing in the kitchen making coffee this morning, and I heard her."
You gasped for air, the tears spilling over your cheeks, dropping onto the hoodie you refused to take off.
"I heard her drop her keys in the bowl by the door," you cried, your voice full of hysteria. "I heard the heavy thud of her kit bag hitting the floor. And then... and then I heard her voice. Just behind me. Right over my shoulder."
You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, holding yourself together as you rocked slightly in the chair.
"She said, ‘Huele bien, mi vida’," you sobbed, the Catalan phrase breaking you completely. "She told me it smelled good. I could hear the exact pitch of her voice. I turned around so fast I dropped the mug, and it shattered all over the floor. And she wasn't there. She's never there."
The therapist leaned forward, her expression filled with pity. "Y/N, this is why staying in that apartment completely isolated is harming you. These echoes are your mind refusing to process her death."
"I don't want to process it!" you screamed, your voice suddenly echoing loudly off the walls of the office.
You shot up from the chair, pacing the small room. You grabbed the roots of your hair, tugging in frustration.
"If I process it, it will stop!" you wept, turning back to look at the therapist with a desperate gaze. "If I accept that she's dead, my brain will stop playing her voice. And I can't lose her voice. I can't. It's the only thing I have left."
You collapsed back into the chair, burying your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with sobs.
"I know I'm going crazy," you cried, "I know she isn't really there. But Doctor... the silence is going to kill me. When the apartment gets quiet, I remember the phone call. I remember the hospital. I remember the blood on her training jacket."
You looked up, completely defeated, begging the professional across from you for an answer she didn't have.
"When I hear her voice, for just one split second... she's still alive," you whispered. "For one second, my Alexia is just in the other room. How do you expect me to let that go?"
"I don't want a cure," you choked out, looking down at the gold ring resting against your chest. "I just want her back. I just want her back."
The ticking clock on the wall continued, but you sat there,entirely willing to let your mind shatter into a million pieces if it meant getting to hear her call your name just one more time.
———
The bathroom tiles were freezing against your bare legs, but you couldn't find the energy to move.
You were sitting in the dark, your knees pulled to your chest, staring at the screen of your phone resting on the bath mat.
Mom (4 Missed Calls).
Mom: Please call me back, sweetie. I just want to know you ate something today.
You let your head fall back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub, squeezing your eyes shut.
"Alexia?"
You whispered her name into the empty air. It was a pathetic, broken sound.
The faint scent of her perfume drifted across your senses.
She was sitting on the edge of the counter. She was wearing her grey sweatpants and the white t-shirt she had worn the morning she left. Her hair was loose falling over her shoulders. She looked so real.
Her eyes were fixed on you, filled with that familiar sorrow she always wore when you were hurting.
"I'm here, mi alma," (I'm here, my soul) her voice echoed in the tight space, bouncing off the tiles. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "I'm always listening."
A sob tore its way up your throat. You curled tighter into a ball, burying your face in your arms.
"I made my mom cry today," you choked out. "She's so worried."
Alexia’s expression twisted in pain. She slid off the counter, her bare feet making absolutely no sound as she stepped across the tiles. She dropped to her knees right in front of you.
"¿Por qué lloraba? What happened?" she asked gently.
"She used her spare key to get in," you wept, unable to look at the hallucination of the woman you loved. "She flew all the way from home. She saw the apartment, Ale. She saw the unopened mail on the counter. She saw the rotting food in the fridge. She saw... she saw me."
You dragged your hands through your greasy, unwashed hair, a hysterical laugh escaping you.
"I look like a corpse, Alexia," you sobbed. "I haven't slept in three days. She tried to pack a suitcase for me. She was begging me, crying on her knees in our hallway, begging me to come back to America with her so she could take care of me."
Alexia’s ghostly face fell. "Y/N... you should go with her. Let her take care of you. Por favor."
"I can't!" you screamed, your voice cracking.
You lunged forward, throwing your arms around her neck but your hands just met empty air. You crashed into the hard edge of the bathtub knocking the wind completely out of your lungs.
You collapsed onto the tiles, weeping hysterically, your fingers clawing at the bath mat.
"I can't leave this apartment!" you wailed,"If I leave, I leave you behind! This is where we lived! This is where you loved me! I told her to get out, Alexia. I screamed at my own mother and told her to get out of our house."
"Mi vida, no puedes hacer esto," (My life, you can't do this) Alexia wept with you, her voice a desperate, echoing plea in your mind. "You are destroying yourself. You are hurting the people who love you because you are trying to hold onto a ghost. I am dead, Y/N. You have to let me be dead."
"I don't want you to be dead!" you gasped, choking on your own tears, staring up at her beautiful face. "I told her... God, Alexia, I told my mom that I wished I had been in the passenger seat of that car."
The ghost of Alexia froze. Her face crumpled, a look of absolute horror washing over her features.
"No," Alexia breathed out, shaking her head frantically. "No, Y/N. Nunca digas eso. Never say that."
"It's true!" you cried. "If I was in the car, I wouldn't have to be here! I wouldn't have to wake up every morning and remember that I have to live another fifty years without you! I am so tired of breathing when you can't!"
"Stop it!" Alexia’s voice is sharp and commanding, echoing loudly in your own fracturing mind.
You flinched, going silent except for your hyperventilating breaths.
"I did not love you this fiercely for you to die with me," she whispered, her voice dropping into a desperate, agonizing plea. "I loved you so you could live. I loved you so you would shine. What you are doing to your mother... what you are doing to yourself... it is breaking whatever soul I have left."
You lay on the tiles, completely broken, staring through the hallucination of the woman who used to be your entire world. The exhaustion was so heavy.
"I don't know how to do it," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper now, utterly defeated. "I don't know how to survive this."
Alexia lowered her head, pressing her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, leaning into the cold air, pretending with every ounce of delusion you possessed that you could feel her skin.
"Call her back," Alexia whispered, her voice beginning to fade into the quiet hum of the bathroom lights. "Call your mother back. Let her pick you up off this floor, because I can't do it anymore, mi amor. I can't hold you anymore."
You opened your eyes.
She was gone.
There was no perfume. There was no voice. There was just the empty bathroom, and the glowing screen of your phone on the floor.
With shaking hands you slowly reached out and picked up the phone. You pressed your mother’s name, holding the phone to your ear, the tears going down your face as it began to ring.q
