"No grave can hold my body down-I'll crawl home to her."
-Hozier, excerpt of 'Work Song'
As hell tore open and their world collapsed into the deepest ring, love was something that should have been impossible. Avoided at any cost. Any rational perso...
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"I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am, I am, I am."
—Sylvia Plath
Hope was a sickening, gut wrenching feeling that made your insides feeling like they were being grated, slowly and deliberately. And yet, Noah Dacre cling to it, ignoring the burning sensation blossoming in the palms of her hands. When the dead rose again and relentlessly clawed their way towards her feet, trying to drag her with them into their early graves, she held onto hope like a lifeline.
Her life before had been marked with self-sacrifice, each day devoted to saving lives—even if it had been a single life, it was more than worth it. Her dreamscape slowly cracked from the centre outwards, sending shards of a harsh reality slicing into her hands and face.
The first person she had lost was her partner in crime, a paramedic as young as herself. If she had been told to mark the exact time her life was propelled downwards by an unstoppable force, his death would be the catalyst that ignited a series of chain reactions.
The city quaked and groaned like a women giving birth to a rotten womb. Screams of anguish and mourning wails replaced the sirens, and then silence consumed the bustling sounds of Atlanta.
