Page 55 of Powerful

Her voice cuts through the haze of pain. My Pae has found me.

She’s bounding towards me, sand flying from her heels. I’m so flooded with relief that I sink to my knees, smiling at her blurry form. ‘Paedyn!’ I shout, attempting to stand. But the look on her face has me faltering.

Why does she look so upset? She’s won.

Maybe I’ve worried her with my disappearance. The thought has me spewing an apology, frantically trying to make her understand where I’ve been. ‘Pae, I’m so sorry. I—’

This second feels longer than all the ones prior.

This one feels like fire.

Fatal.

Like the beginning of the end.

Pain blooms in my chest, burns through my body.

I take my time looking down at what is to be the end of me.

I blink at the bloody branch that has found its way through my chest, vaguely wondering how it got there.

Everything feels dull, muted like the scream that tears from a throat that isn’t mine.

My eyes slowly find their way to the girl sprinting towards me, watching the scream form on her lips but never hearing it leave them.

She catches me before I hit the sand. I’m being cradled in arms I wish I could feel. Fingers are brushing away my bangs, and I manage a smile at the familiar feeling.

She’s always there to wake me from my nightmares, to push uneven bangs from my eyes.

I sense the pain racking my body rather than feel it. Like knowing when your heart has broken without needing to feel it shatter.

I keep my eyes on her. My strong Pae. She’s telling me I’m going to be fine. I know I’m not.

I may be dying, but I’m not dumb.

She’s promising me sticky buns now. Says she’ll feed me so many that I’ll grow sick of them. We both know that’s a lie. My love for sticky buns will die with me.

Die.

What a silly word, one I typically associate with the color of my fabrics. How odd it is to assign three little letters to the end of my existence.

‘… you have to promise me you’ll stay—’

Her muffled words pierce me harder than the branch jutting from my chest. ‘Pae.’ I take a shaky breath. ‘You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.’

I don’t hear much of what she says next. Her tears are splattering my face, though I can’t feel them through the blanket of numbness smothering my body. She’s just as stubborn as always, denying the death that is so obviously coming to claim me.

That is the one thing I do feel. The brush of Death’s fingers down my face, like a calming caress. I thoughtI would be frightened of him and the end he’s dragging me towards. But it’s comforting in a way, being fully aware that this is the end.

‘Promise you’ll wear it for me?’

The words slip from my mouth, blood quickly following. Through blurry vision, I see the question on her face more than hear it from her lips. ‘The vest,’ I choke out. ‘Th-The green one with the pockets.’ Death is shushing me, but I speak over him. ‘The stitching took me ages, and I’d hate for all my… h-hard work to go to waste.’

It’s the last piece of me left.

The last physical piece of my passion in life.

No. There’s Mak. He is my passion in life. And I only wish for them both to wear my vests when I’m gone, tethering them to me for eternity.

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