BEXLEY BRIAR
Dull pressure sends smoke through every inch of Bexley’s body - pulsating pain behind her eyes, a flat ache that glazes each muscle. The weight of fallen stone pins her to the ground. Dust shudders from her eyelashes with each twitch. The stubborn brag of her heart, quiet at best, feeble in reality, and only barely does it manage to keep her alive, Bex saved only by the persistence of her body.
She is only dimly aware of the direness of the situation.
Anyone looking down would be sure death had caught her, but hazy as Bexley is, she refuses to believe it. Her brain does not recognize the quick trickle of blood down her side, down her cheek, down the many shining planes of her body. A glimmer of gold in a dark, dark cave. The air smells of iron and unclean water and burns the inside of Bex’s mouth, a violent reminder that something is incorrect, that things are not as they should be, but not quite violent enough to stir her from her confusion. God is unreal. A voice sounds through the air, muffled by dust and blood, and Bexley’s ear flicks in an unconscious response.
She cracks open one blue eye, with immense effort, and catches the shimmer of movement. From between two layers of thickly curled lashes there is a mirage of legs working. A chest breathing. Bexley. Again, the voice, silverly and unduly cool, echoing in the small, broken space of the cavern that has betrayed the both of them. Bex stirs slightly, feels the pressure of weight against her leg, stops. She opens her eye wider, against the hot pull of blood, against the exhaustion that has flooded her, with an unreal stubborness, and meets Seraphina’s gaze: Bex’s eyes are glassy and utterly vacant, delirious, even, but still trying.
Yes, she answers after a long pause. Her voice is throaty and hoarse, completely unlike its usual heavy lilt. Speaking almost makes her wince; there is a heavy layer of dry dust that coats her mouth and makes it difficult to talk, but she does her best to response, as ugly as the broken sound may be. I hear you.
Another pause, then. Bexley forces herself to breathe deep. To re-enter her own body. To blink a little more awake, making her more aware of the pain, but not by enough to make her flinch. I am alive. The thought goes through her head again and again. I am alive.
No fucking escape from it.
Get me out. Please.
@
