Beta || Iancorn (NaNoWriMo 2018)

Level Twenty-Eight

The whiteness seemed to last forever, leaving him in emptiness, heart racing. He tried to call out, but the void swallowed his words; if they had even come out in the first place. It was different than the level switches; it took too long, the air was too heavy to breathe. It was terrifying and nauseating.

He only cared about one thing; Wes. The taller man's glassy eyes swam in his vision. But he couldn't be dead; he couldn't be! The mere thought made David's heart beat faster, his lungs feel tighter.

But then the whiteness was gone. He found himself on his hands and knees, panting. The first thing he noticed was the weight missing from his back and side. His backpack and sword were gone.

Then it was the hay covering the ground, which told him all he needed to know without even having to look up, though he did anyway. He was met with a familiar sight of wet walls with peeling red and white paint, with hay stacks scattered around the ground. There was a fresh pile of beer leaning against the wall, stacked perfectly with a bottle opener on the ground in front of them. Right in front of David's face was a wall covered in tally marks, fourteen in total.

He was back where this entire nightmare had started. The barn.

As quickly as he could, he jumped to his feet. The sudden movement almost made him feel sick, and he had to lean against the wall for support before surveying the room.

There were five people on the ground, looking almost as disoriented as David felt. Matthew had curled into a ball, though he wasn't crying. Ian and Damien were staring at the floor, both on their hands and knees. Joven was shakily climbing to his feet. And Mari...

Mari was still on the ground, her hand outstretched just like it had been in the cavern, reaching out for Wes. There were tears in her eyes, and she was shaking. With every second that passed, her shaking got worse, until she was practically convulsing. That was when she finally dropped her reached-out arm and let out a ear-piercing shriek that echoed in the small room.

"No!" she screamed, slamming her head to the ground and grabbing her hair. "No! No no no no!"

Joven rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tight to his chest with her chin at his left shoulder. David didn't know how his ears weren't bleeding with how loudly Mari was screaming and sobbing.

Wes was dead.

That thought seemed so strange, out of place. Unrealistic. But it was true. The man who was built like a mountain, who was determined to get out of here, who had wanted a life with the woman he loved. Snuffed out. Gone. And there was no way to bring him back.

David took a shaky breath and slumped against the wall, tears falling from his eyes. His sobs shook his entire body. Oh God, Wes.

He was vaguely aware of Ian as he wrapped his arm around David comfortingly. David leaned into his chest subconsciously, his vision blurry from tears. The image of Wes falling, of his glassy eyes, was seared into his vision.

Why didn't he go and help him? He had been handling his attackers just fine. If he'd gone over to Wes, if he'd decapitated that skeleton before the bony fuck had a chance to raise his goddamn sword...

"I should've helped him," David whispered. "I should've-"

"David," Ian stroked his fingers through David's hair comfortingly. "Don't."

"Ian-"

"Don't."

Another one of Mari's cries broke through the air, louder than the rest. David found himself leaning farther into Ian's chest.