Mirrored

Chapter 19 - Ryosuke

New Chapter!!!

Warning: death and passing is mentioned through a nightmare as well as self-harm is explored within this chapter. Please take care of yourselves and read what is most comfortable for you.

As always, enjoy your reading time. 🫰🎭🕰️

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"When you're born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it's not."

- Richard Kadrey, Aloha from Hell

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Thick scarlet liquid seeps into her drenched clothes as her face drains away in color, seconds ticking by. Her radial pulse begins to weaken, fading though it was beating faster than it should, trying to compensate the loss of oxygen in the body. The rise and fall of her chest is rapid but faint like the climax of a music before it fades and silences completely.

No, that will not happen.

Pressing down firmly with a thick towel pressed on her neck, traces of her blood already beginning ooze through, I scoop her weightless frame into my arms, my own heart beating erratically in my chest as the thought of losing her smothers me, beginning the process of suffocation around my own neck. Its hold on me tightened with every second passing by.

Her skin is cold to the touch, the fucking grim reaper no doubt hovering over us as I race myself down the entrance of the ED, health staff appearing by my side in seconds, prying her body away from me.

And I already felt like I lost a part of her.

Letting her go was the last thing I wanted to do. But if I kept her to me, she wouldn't survive.

They steal her away from me and rush her into the treatment room, nurses coming in out in a run, grabbing medical supplies, blood transfusions, and doctors – urgency and gravity of the situation unmistakeable.

I pace back and forth in front of the treatment room as I willed my hands to stop fucking shaking. I fist them, my nails digging into my palm. But I felt no pain, nor reprieve. Like the blood soaking her clothes, terror and panic spread through my system as a poison with no antidote, and no cure, killing me slowly and effectively.

Minutes tick by with no information, no update.

No news is good news I tell myself. No news is good news. No news is good news.

"Sir. Sir!"

I snap my attention to the man in navy blue scrubs with a cap covering the top of his head, eyes drooped as he assessed me from top to bottom.

"How is she?" I asked, my voice coming out as a whisper sounding nothing like me.

"We did the best we could," he pauses, eyes solemn. "However, unfortunately she could not make it. Too much blood was lost and the damage to the veins and arteries were irreparable. I am sorry for your loss."

Loss. Loss? Loss, the word echoed.

No. I shake my head. No. No.

My arm desperately reaches out towards her, landing on nothing but an empty pillow. The other side of the bed where she should have been was empty and cold.

"Kaya?!" I yelled into the dark, my voice echoing against the walls, drifting elsewhere in the house. Only silence answer my calls.

Hurling myself out of the bed, I continue to yell for her name, my eyes frantically trying to find her long black hair, light brown eyes, smooth pale skin. Blood pumps harsh in my ears, deafening me and voice.