Page 50 of Drown Like Heaven
There were many reasons people despised us, but one of them was that we became stronger the closer we were to death.
You had to imagine what that ability woulddoto a person to really understand it.
Imagine the sort of instability it would breed in someone.
Each second we got closer to our own death, power and strength rushed harder and harder in our veins.
We felt fucking invincible.
And then we died.
Thrausians diedsignificantlymore frequently than any other aspect. And by significantly, I meant probably a hundredtimes as often. Angel death was uncommon in general, but not at all within this aspect. It was almost expected that, as a Thrausian, you would die.
Because it wasn’t like with the increased strength you were anyless likelyto die.
You could be ten seconds away from it and feel on top of the world, but then be taken out of the world once that timer was up. We didn’t have any sense of our own limits, not like the other aspects did. As they got closer to death, they became weaker and weaker—as was normal with any living creature on Earth.
Ididn’t.
And I couldn’t even tell you how many times I’d pushed that fucking limit.
It was why I held my breath underwater, letting my neon levels drop dangerously low, letting myself get closer to death, just so I’d get to feel that euphoric rush of undiluted power flowing through my body.
The other fallen Thrausians were who I was looking for now.
Gravel and broken glass crunched under my shoes as I walked past abandoned buildings, crumbling facades, rusted metal. There was no method for the direction I was walking, just a feeling.
Until that feeling became a tangible thing, a scent.
I started following it, the trail leading me to the cracked-open entrance of a large uninhabited building. Pulling the door open, I stepped inside and surveyed the space. Many of the interior walls had been knocked down and the first floor stretched out before me in a mess of rubble.
As I went a bit further into the building, I saw what I’d been looking for: a group of four Thrausians. Two of them were fighting; the other two were watching.
They didn’t say much to me when I walked in; one glanced over in my direction but the other kept watching the fight.Clearly they knew why I was here. Every surface in the building was singed with black smoke, a few jagged streaks etched into the stone.
I rolled out my shoulders, tilted my head side to side. Electricity tingled at my fingertips, my skin burning with the need for release.
The one who’d glanced over at me when I walked in approached me then. His eyes were dark, his irises almost black.
“Just fists,” he said.
“I figured.”
“Stop before you lose control, and trust me to do the same.”
I nodded. The conversation was transactional and to the point, which I appreciated. We both had the same needs, given to us by our shared nightmarish aspect.
I let him take the first punch, which he did, slinging his fist into my stomach.
It felt good. The sort of pain that could wear down the roughness inside of me—even if only temporarily. Something I could hand myself over to. A physical outlet.
We went back and forth, our hits getting stronger and stronger, my body warming.
I tried to tamp down that dangerous heat, though I could still feel it simmering inside of me. The violence was only tending to the fire. Every punch and kick and noise of pain stoked the coals.
He hit my cheekbone, hard, jerking my head back. Something snapped inside of me with the hit. A single fracture.
Fuck.No.
