With my poor vision, I could see his kneecap twisted into shards of bone, bloodied and protruding.
- How terrible! — I — But I’m not helping you—deal with this yourselves.
- What do you mean, darling? It’s us! — Julia cried from her last ounces of strength.
- When they hit Antwan, he called me by my full The real Antwan would never call me Alenari.
- Please, don’t be angry! — She almost — He got shot in the leg and was in shock—he might’ve said anything. Just help me get him down and put something under him.
- They limped across the light barrier and approached me. Inside, everything did a few flips: terrified ones first, then They were really my friends—after all, the circle of light wouldn’t have let them through otherwise. I took off my jacket again and laid it down as bedding, setting my backpack beside it to mimic a pillow.
- And just like that, we built a makeshift hospital bed and gently laid down a groaning Antwan, who kept slipping in and out of consciousness. Mia talked to him softly while I prepped to set the bone and figure out how to rig up a DIY splint.
- As we played field medics, somewhere close by we heard the murmur of conversation, the clink of glasses, and soft music. I lifted my head instantly and exchanged a glance with Julia.
- I heard it too, — she said, her voice — I don’t like this one bit.
- Same here, We’ll check it out later—Antwan’s getting worse.
- My nephew’s face had gone pale as death, and his leg spasmed in violent jerks. I had no choice but to sit beside him and start the bone-setting procedure. I laid down a ragged scrap of cloth from the bottom of my pack, got comfortable—and fell into darkness.
- Shaking my head, I looked up to see the streetlamp a dozen steps away
—and looming over me were two silhouettes. Julia and Antwan, fully healed and standing strong. Their hands reached for me.
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Fourth failure.
- Again that ambient sound, like a restaurant in full swing, and the spawn of the Abyss began to growl low and Their voices had no trace of my friends—just the dry rustling of dead leaves.
- The restaurant (or whatever the hell it was) piped up again, louder now, a full-blown argument. The outlines of my pseudo-friends wavered like a curtain in a storm. Then they settled again, still and silent on the pavement.
- I stayed sitting, waiting for their arms to come down toward me, ready to catch and flip them to the ground with a judo throw. But it wasn’t needed.
- With a grunt, I stood and looked from the lamp to the Mirage after mirage. I was bouncing between illusions like a pinball, flung from one hallucination to the next. What even is reality anymore?
- Pondering the transcendental could wait. There was a problem to
- I silently pulled a flask from the pack behind me and doused my - relatives- in its contents. Julia and Antwan’s faces froze like those concertgoers’—though here their features twisted and melted depending on how fast their flesh slid off during incineration.
- I turned away. Fishing around the bag that had landed in my hands, I found—blessedly—a fresh punch bottle. Right… I hadn’t drunk it in... - real - My hands trembled a bit as I thought: what if that version was actually the real one? What if Julia and I were tending to a wounded Antwan right now?
- Screw that. Thoughts like these will get you killed faster than any monster in this I marched off, trying to shut my ears to the sound of sizzling meat.