Blood, screams, his, Alayna’s, Damian’s, they all mixed together into one big, red, loud mess.
Then all of a sudden Mekhi was awake, woken by the screams of the dead.
Had it been her screaming?
He switched on the bed and rolled over, only to have his hopes dashed. Again. She wasn’t awake. Her lashes remained fanned out on her pale cheeks, just as they had been for the last eight months.
She wasn’t going to wake up.
He had to accept that. It killed him, but what choice did he have?
. . . White. The whole world was white. Peaceful, serene, calming white.
A tiny dot of black appeared in her quiet, white world.
A dot of pain.
Unbearable, unimaginable, sorrow.
Alayna felt it, it climbed inside her, filling her up, guiding her back to him.
Her white world faded away replaced by colors. Silky maroon sheets, cherry wooden bedposts, red walls. Red. Her world had been white but Mekhi’s was red.
She wanted to live in Mekhi’s world.
Somehow her hand moved it, found his and interlaced their fingers.
All of a sudden his face appeared above her. Bloodshot eyes, scruffy beard, haggard lines of worry etched into his face.
All of that floated away as he looked at her. She didn’t quite understand yet what had happened, but as Mekhi pressed a kiss to her forehead none of that mattered.