chapter thirty: Wild

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I was thrown onto my back as his body crashed into mine, crushing me under his weight. But it wasn't just the force of his body that threw me, that shook me. I could feel him through me, his vita hit me like a wave of energy, like an electric shock as we smacked against the floor. As soon as the energy stopped, everything stopped.

Time stopped; my heart stopped.

Everything stopped.

I screamed and rolled him off of me crawling out from under his body so I could kneel beside him. He was already gone. I knew, because I could feel him in my heart, in my mind, in my veins. I felt his power within me, which meant it was no longer with him. His face was still and peaceful, his eye closed. He had accepted this, wanted this. He had done this for me.

And I was angry.

It had worked better than I had ever dreamed it could. I felt more powerful than I'd ever felt in my life. But this was not how I had wanted it to be. He was supposed to survive. I clenched my hands together in my lap, wringing my fingers as I stared at him. I wanted his eyelids to flutter open. I wanted him to get up and shake it off like before, like when Dart had thrown him into the wall. I wanted any glimmer of hope, any sign of movement, anything. I rocked back and forth slightly, my breath shallow, my heart racing in panic.

He wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be the one to die. He wasn't supposed to.

Tears came streaming down my cheeks, dripping onto my trembling hands and my lap, and I couldn't shut them off. I couldn't swallow them down. I couldn't be ok. I couldn't even pretend to be ok. He was dead because he had saved me. He was gone because he knew what his sacrifice could do for me, for the world, for humanity.

But just then, I didn't care about the world or humanity. I cared that Sparrow, my universe, my light, my center, was lying in a pool of blood, growing colder by the second. I cared that I'd never look into his amber eyes again, that I'd never hear my name on his lips, that I'd never kiss those lips. And I hated him for taking that from me, and I saw why he so fervently hadn't wanted me to end my life just to give us a chance at defeating Strike. He would have felt the way I felt right now. He would have been staring down at my body and wondering how he could possibly go on, how he could possibly defeat anyone without me.

But he didn't have to, because instead, I was the one staring down at his corpse. a

I was supposed to be the one. I was supposed to be the one lying in a puddle of blood, my broken body bent at impossible angles, my eyelids shut, a peaceful smile on my lips, knowing I'd done what I could to help the world. The words that he'd sent - just before this - those words were supposed to still be echoing through his mind. Not mine.

Wild and Sparrow. Sparrow and Wild. Wild and Sparrow. Sparrow and...

I wanted to be so mad at him. I wanted to yell and scream at him. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and fix him, and breathe in his scent. I wanted him to tell me it would be ok. I wanted him to take it all back and be alive, dammit!

But he was gone.

I couldn't yell at him. I couldn't tell him I loved him. I couldn't tell him I missed him. I couldn't smell his warm scent or be in his arms. And I never would again.

I reached out toward him with trembling hands, sobbing. I couldn't even remember a time I'd ever sobbed. I couldn't stop. My trembling fingers froze inches from his face and I stopped myself, knowing if I touched him now that is how I would remember our last touch. I turned my eyes away from him quickly, picturing him in my mind has he was only moments ago, picturing his beautiful amber eyes, his long, wild waves hanging behind his shoulders, that soft whisper of a smile that was always on his lips when he looked at me.

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