Page 62 of GlitchBorn Heart

Hurts.

I never wanted this, never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted to allow myself to be hurt. But here I am.

“I’ll find you,” I promise to the empty air. My voice is rough, ragged. “I’ll pull you out of this, whatever it takes. I promise.”

The system pulses once, a low, mocking thrum that sounds like laughter. Then the monitors flicker, and she’s gone.

24

HatefulHeart

Playlist: HATEFUL - HEALTH, Sierra Veins

Lyra

I wake to nothing again.

The air, if it’s air, buzzes against my skin like the inside of a speaker on full blast. I scream, and it erupts as bright yellow lines twitch in the void around me. Vertical grids appear; they slide and rearrange every time I blink. At least there’s some color to my rage now.

My stomach churns, but I’m not hungry. I don’t know if I’m standing or floating. Gravity feels like a coin toss the system hasn’t decided on yet.

“I hate this.” My voice comes out broken and distorted, like I’m underwater. It bounces back to me in five different tones, some too deep, some too high. One of them laughs at me. I can hear him, talking to me, promising to “rescue me” and “find me.”

Fuck you, Kael Ryudon.

I don’t need your pity.

Sometimes when the static clears, I can hear him. The tapping of keys cutting through the vacuum of silence, fast, like he’s afraid to stop. I imagine lines of code scrolling beneath his fingers, orders being given, names being flagged, people like me being erased with just one of his keystrokes.

If I focus on one dark spot for long enough, I can sometimes see him. Never clearly. Just a silhouette moving through a cavern of light and glass. A dark shape pacing, stopping, circling back on itself like he’s trapped in his own cage.

I’m glad.

He never looks relaxed. Even blurred and distant, I can feel the tension in the way he moves, his shoulders tight, jaw clenched, like the world is something he’s holding together by himself.

Serves him right.

I don’t think he knows I’m watching, but for some strange reason, I know he senses it. Sometimes, I swear he pauses mid-motion, tilting his head to the side, as if he feels my eyes on him.

Good.

I whip my head around. “I hate you, Kael Ryudon!” I yell with everything I have into the blackness, hoping he can hear me.

No response. Cold claws its way under my skin, but I can’t shiver. I can’t even breathe. Each inhale rattles, artificial, like the world has to teach me how to exist here.

I wish for death.

My heart answers, thundering in my chest, reminding me I’m still here, still existing. But the question won’t leave my thoughts: If this isn’t death, what is it?

My unease worsens because a heartbeat alone doesn’t make you human. Neither does fear, or memory, or wanting something badly enough it hurts.

I exist. I know that much. I can think. I can feel emotion. I can certainly feel anger, maybe even hate. So, if this isn’t death, if I haven’t crossed from this life, then what have I become?

I stand to inspect a pulse I hear thumping from across the room. A flash of light shoots under my feet like an electrical current. It spreads until it surrounds me, forming a circle. What is this? A spotlight? I stumble back, but the circle moves with me, following my every step. It moves a few steps in front of me, then bounces back as if it’s undecided on where to go next.

Panic takes over. Instinct guides me to claw at the edges, step out of it, but my hands pass through easily. It’s not trapping me, it’s leading me. The circle of light hangs in the air, then moves again. It coils around my fingers like shadows, humming with power.

This is an all-too-familiar feeling. My magic.