His lashes are so pale.
He's so cold…
…and gray.
****
One weighted foot after the other, my chest nursing a gaping heart while I cradled the human I adored.
My legs were patterned with wounds from the iron bullets I hadn't been able to dodge while protecting Simon's body, and they buckled with every step. I had nearly lost my life trying to flee the Capital with him. I'd run as far as my battered legs would take me, with Simon in my arms and hope channeling out of me before I ultimately collapsed.
To dig out the bullets, I'd had to stop running, and because of those moments dedicated to recovery, Simon had died.
He was gone.
There hadn't been a single human around who would have willingly ignored what I was to help him. And I'd tried everything to tap into my power to save him, but all it had done was dangerously attract attention.
