𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔, sokeefe

darkness

Keefe stared into the pool of black ink swilling below him.

Just one push...

One leap of faith...

It looked so inviting.

So calming.

So reassuring.

At least he'd be able to leave this world knowing he'd done all he could to help.

His friends didn't need him, anyway.

All he was was an inconvenience with an evil mother they thought he needed protection from.

A figure stretched towards him, begging him to yield.

To give up. 

To surrender.

You were never any use to your brethren, a voice whispered. The sheer coldness sent shivers up Keefe's spine. The least you can do is give up your life to save them.

"I..." For once in his life, Keefe was at a loss for words.

One part of his mind was screaming, It's a trick! A trap! Don't listen!

The other part was resigning to the truth in those whispers.

All of it leading up to one question.

The same question he'd started asking himself in fear of making the wrong choice, of being a mess, a disappointment.

What would Foster do?

Keefe considered the reality of those words.

He knew Foster would never ask him to risk himself or give up his life to save her.

But...

What if she'd had to do it herself?

He knew she'd have done what was best for everyone else.

"I—I'll go in," he told the darkness underneath bravely. "But you must let the others go."

Interesting, the voice hissed. But would you have agreed to this if the girl you love hadn't been among the prisoners?

"Yes," Keefe said, slightly shakily. "Because I know that's what she would have done."

But perhaps that's not what she wants YOU to do. 

"I'm not second guessing this," Keefe said. The words sounded braver than he felt. "But...can I at least say goodbye?"

The last word caught in his throat.

So noble, the voice noted. And yet so unloved.

The words knocked Keefe back a step.

Lots of people care about you, Keefe.

How true were those words?

"You're wrong," he told the pit boldly. "Lots of people care about me."

My boy, the voice whispered in a quiet rasp. You've operated under that illusion for too long.

"Even if I'm wrong," Keefe said, his voice breaking, "please. Let me see Foster one last time."

Very well. But you will regret this.

Keefe doubted anything would make him regret each and every moment he'd spent with her.

The thrill of each and every moment still tingled in his veins, the sparks that flew up every time he held her hand or hugged her.