Seperation // Gally x Reader

Chapter Six - Lawrence

Gally's POV

The bland grey walls of the room mocked me with their emptiness, mirroring the hollow ache that had formed in my chest. Each blink had been a gamble, a chance that a sliver of my past might flicker back into memory. But now that it had, I felt the need to grip onto the sides of the mattress, knuckles turning white. That steadiness was the only constant in this world that felt increasingly alien.

That spark. That flash of warmth that I felt when I remembered her. The way the sunlight danced across her hair, her radiant smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Y/n. My Y/n. The memories flooded back, a torrent that nearly choked me. Our moments stolen beneath the leafy canopies of the deadheads, whispered promises under the comforting hum of the Glade, the way her fingers would trace the lines on my palm.

But the tide of joy turned bitter with a single, horrific image. My body contorted in a mask of rage, the glint of a gun mirroring in my eyes. Y/n, her face etched with shock and betrayal, a crimson flower blooming on her stomach. The sickening crunch of the trigger echoed in my ears, a deafening gunshot that ripped a hole through my heart.

I lurched forward, the sterile grey a canvas for my silent screams. I tasted blood, metallic and sharp, but it was nothing compared to the agony tearing me apart from within. Had I done it? Had I, in my madness, turned the gun only the only person who ever saw the good in me?

I clawed at my head, desperate to unravel the tangled mess of memories. Every fibre of my being rebelled against the truth, yet the scene refused to be dislodged. The searing image of Y/n, her eyes wide with a love that turned to betrayal in the final moment, was branded into my soul. Another memory resurfaced, a beacon in the storm. This one came fragmented, fuzzy around the edges like a fogged up mirror, but the raw emotion held within was undeniable.

Even after the bullet left the gun and pierced her skin, even as unbearable pain rippled through her, her eyes hadn't left mine. Ignoring the agonising wound, she'd rushed towards me, a single-mined desperation fuelling every step. But then, a scorching pain of the spear through my chest tilted the world at a sickening angle, and a hoarse, croaking scream left her lips.

I remembered the frantic yells, the rush of figures trying to get to Y/n, but she'd pushed them away, her gaze locked on mine. Her voice, barely a whisper, spoke my name and professed her love, a plea that resonates even deeper with me now. That was the moment I'd closed my eyes, the world fading away, the image of Y/n's unwavering care being the last thing I saw.

I collapsed against the starched white sheets, the barren environment suddenly suffocating. Every breath was a struggle, a reminder of the life I'd stolen, the love I'd extinguished. A low whine escaped my lips, a fractured sound that spoke of a shattered future, tinged with unbearable sorrow.

Alone in the blank room, I was left to grapple with the wreckage of my emotions. When did I even get those? I'd never really had to deal with them before. The girl I love is gone, stolen by my own hand. All I was left with was an echo of a laugh, the memory of a gunshot that would forever stain my soul, and the tattered, woven bracelet that Y/n had gifted me during our time in the Glade.

I have no idea whether she survived this madness, the shot, the chaos. In the grey void of my room, my mind conjured the worst. The wound would be hard not to succumb to. I yearned, with an intensity that rivalled my past rage, for another flicker of a memory, a sliver of hope. But nothing came. Instead, an overwhelming wave of anger. I stand and move towards the back door, sending my foot flying against it with a hard kick and a grunt. Over and over, I kick and kick until someone clears their throat behind me.

I spin around and find Valentino standing against the door, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "Uhm, sorry. Lawrence is ready for you." He says, and I take a deep breath. I nod and move towards him. He turns and I follow as we walk down the winding hallways, neither of us daring to utter a word.