Romily wished they could say almost dying was a new thing. It wasn’t. Before Remy’s death, they had been vaguely careful. Still reckless but they had a certain air of caution with the knowledge that if they messed up something could happen to Remy. Remy’s death had killed their almost-carefulness. Jobs didn’t become sloppy but they certainly became less thought out, less planned, more reckless. Near death encounters increased after that.
They cared about few people and one way or another, every one of those people were family. Their parents, Remy, Val, Rosie and Krys–Both their sisters in different ways. In the end, Romily would die for any of them, to keep them safe. It was the only death they would accept. When they hadn’t seen Rosie after the evacuation, they’d gone in after her.
The explosion played out in front of their eyes, over and over again, while they slept. Sneaking back into the school, heart frantic as they picked the window’s lock, eventually giving up and breaking it. The sound of shrill alarms going off and shear panic as they looked for Rosie. The indescribable relief they felt when they found their little sister, only to have it ripped away when the bomb went off and a piece of drywall pinned them. It all played like a movie in their head over and over again, haunting them until they opened their eyes
Everything hurt. Muscles ached, a torn rotator cuff being the worst offender. Sharp pain shot through their lungs with each breath and a throbbing pain erupted in their head, the fluorescent lights only making it worse. Multiples bones in their right hand shattered.
“W-where’s Rosie?” They rasped, barely conscious. “Where’s m-my little s-sister?” Their voice wavered and cracked. With a wince, they pushed themself up, ignoring the jolts of pain in their shoulder.
