Allison's POV
It's dark. So dark that the blackness seems alive, pressing against my skin, seeping into my lungs. Each breath is shallow and labored, a bitter battle against suffocating air. This is definitely a footstep from death.
"Try to distract yourself."
Darius's voice slices through the silence, a desperate rasp more than a suggestion. No—he's begging me, though he tries to disguise it as calm advice. For once, I'm grateful he managed a quick shower after his filthy, grim journey.
"Stop holding your breath. Manage the space," he continues, his voice strained, like he's hanging by a thread himself. "Think of… think of your books. Your favorite character. The protagonist, someone good-looking, someone—"
"You're wasting air. Stop talking. Please."
