Fourth Wall

Thirteen: Still Alive

Chloe told herself over and over that the pain of the goblin scimitar was only in her head, only in the game. Not real.

But as her body was racked with coughs that brought blood to her lips, it was hard to imagine that anything could possibly hurt worse. She tried not to cough. The wound in her stomach screamed with pain at the slightest movement. The warmth of the blood sliding down her belly made Chloe want to throw up, or pass out.

She wished she would pass out. It would be a welcome reprieve from the pain. Unfortunately, she remained mostly conscious. Not enough to be aware of how much time had passed since she'd been injured, or where they were now or how they'd gotten there. But enough to feel the pain.

Halsin was carrying Chloe, her body dwarfed in size by his own. He was careful to be gentle with his movements, but Chloe could tell everyone was panicked. They jostled quickly and silently together, Chloe's eyes closing and reopening to an entirely different landscape. Chloe tried to lift her head, look around. But she was too weak to even hold her eyelids open. They drooped shut again just as she heard Halsin whisper, "Almost to safety, my lady."

When she opened her eyes again, Chloe was somewhere dark, her head in someone else's lap. Halsin was leaning over her, and Shadowheart was wiping the blood from her stomach and chest with a damp cloth.

She was once again shirtless in front of the group, but modesty was the furthest thing from Chloe's mind. The pain was unbearable, and Chloe's chapped lips parted just enough to force an agonized groan through. Halsin looked pained too as he held his open palms over Chloe's wound, wisps of magic physically stitching her back together.

It was torment, and Chloe's fingernails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists. Shadowheart gently shushed her, her fingertips gently combing Chloe's hair in an attempt to comfort her.

It took Chloe a long moment to realize the weight on her legs was a person - Wyll, holding her legs down while Halsin worked his healing magic.

"There, there..." Shadowheart murmured. "When Halsin is done, I'll get you a healing potion, and then you can rest. You're almost done," she assured softly. Chloe had never heard her speak so softly. It must be bad, Chloe thought.

Had she really come so close to ending the game for good? Had she almost died in this stupid video game? Would her family ever know what happened to her in the real world? Or was this all in her head, and she had secretly been in a coma dream this whole time?

Her mind raced with questions that would never have answers, and Chloe tried to focus instead on her breathing. Deep, slow, breaths.

It took a few hours before Halsin could heal the worst of Chloe's wounds. The longest hours of Chloe's life. Eventually, the pain had subsided enough that Chloe could see clearly. The group had gathered in a cave, judging by the sound of moist stalactites dripping in the darkness and generally damp smell.

Wyll, Shadowheart and Halsin remained nearby, while Lae'zel tended the fire. There was no sign of the freed prisoners. No sign of Astarion.

Chloe sat up, her head spinning. She was shirtless, bandages covering the still-healing gash across her stomach and a few smaller cuts across her chest. Several wool blankets and cloaks had been piled on top of her to keep her warm.

Her clothes had been left in a messy pile next to her, and Chloe didn't bother even pretending she wanted to put them on. The thought of stretching and twisting into a shirt made her nauseous with pain. It seemed at some point the group had seen fit to also remove her pants, and Chloe was confused until she saw the gash in her thigh.

I must have been hit again after I went down, she thought.

Halsin sat on a rock opposite Chloe, his expression exhausted.