The Undoing of Sidekicks | ✓

thirty eight

a/n: big apologies for the wait. it's been a crazy month for me, but here is the final piece to the book, to the series. might cry, lmao. 

thirty eight

I AWOKE TO a world of dark, endless swirls of pain. They came and went, irregular intervals that rocked me hard enough for me to reach out for something, a way to grab at any semblance of comfort to refrain from shouting.

But I found I couldn't reach out for that something, couldn't grasp. Not at first, at least, as my senses felt slippery, unstable. I couldn't feel where the pain came from, only the rolling waves of it, reaching every part of me over and over and over again.

I swam through that dark, painful space for a long time. It felt like a long time to me, at least, an eternity of sharp bursts of that never-ending hurt. It was only after that long while that I felt I could attempt bracing myself against it, attempt to shield myself from the next waves of hurt. At first, it didn't work — not even close, not at all.

Then, as if by some miracle, I managed to brace against the next roll of pain. And the next. Not all, not by a long shot, but I managed to shield myself from some. The dark flickered, as if disturbed at my fighting back, and through the flickers I caught spots of light. They blurred away quick enough, nothing but bright smudges, but I fought to see glimpses of them again — and I did, as I managed to evade more of that pain.

And, finally, the waves of it slowed. They weren't quite so frequent, not quite as strong. I braced against more of them, but found that even the ones I missed didn't hurt as much as they had. Didn't grate against my mind, as they had, nor did they blot out the flickers of light. No, I saw more of them now — spots that were smudged, then clearer. They grew, spread out in blots of brightness, which grew bigger and bigger.

The light turned from being simply bright spots to shapes, at first unclear. They, too, cleared further as I fought to see more of it. I saw the edges sharpening, saw the bursts of blue and red light, and reached toward it. It felt like swimming through the most sluggish of oil, reaching for the thin film of its surface. I reached, pushed up, fought for that light —

— then I broke through.

My eyes flew wide open. The bursts of blue and red were the emergency lights of the various ambulances around me, the police vehicles parked haphazardly by the large entrance to ... to —

Mistress' stronghold, I thought, watching the half-collapsed industrial building. My mind still felt sluggish, dull, but I fought to regain some of those memories, of what had happened inside of that cursed building.

I remembered Gillian. Remembered our fight, remembered my ultimatum — finally, the shot that had gone off. The darkness that had edged in, before my head had thudded to the ground, swallowed by that unconsciousness.

And now, here I was. I shifted slightly, felt the soft weight of a blanket tucked around me. No, not just a blanket —

My eyes darted to my hand, the one that felt strangely warm. It was enveloped in someone else's grip. I tracked that hand, followed a muscled arm before my eyes snagged on the face of someone familiar.

Josh. And right beside him, leaning against his shoulder, was Zuri. They seemed to be half-asleep, more than half, their eyelids flickering softly as they rested. When I shifted again, though, those eyelids flew right open.

"Leo," Zuri breathed, before her eyes welled with tears, "You're awake."

She lunged over me. Pain ricocheted through my body, and I groaned audibly enough for her to back off, back away, apologies written all over her tear-streaked face. I glanced down, found that I had been resting on one of those moveable emergency beds, stuffed in the back of an ambulance.