Tethered to the Abyss

Val looked over at the fallen Rictor. And Bread too… He wasn’t moving either. None of them were. What was happening?

“Bread?” she called out. “Bread? You there?” She knelt down to take a closer look—his eyes were open, empty and lifeless. Mouth agape. As if frozen in time. “Bread…?” How was she supposed to tell if he was okay? He didn’t have a heart. He had no beat! What was she supposed to do? “Bread!”

His fingers suddenly twitched. He started to stir. Color finally returned to his eyes. And with it, tears…

“Bread?”

After a brief glance, he looked away.

“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?” He looked ghastly. As if he’d just seen a ghost. Water endlessly poured down his cheeks.

“Coach. He’s—”

“Shit! Coach!” She jumped up and dashed over to the burning gym. The fire still raged inside; she could see it through the window. Walls were aflame, the ceiling continued to melt away, collapsing from the unbearable heat. She got to the door and pulled.

Locked.

She patted herself down. My key! Then she suddenly remembered. She had left them inside. Fuck! Why was it locked in the first place? Wait—

“Bread! Help me open this! It’s locked!”

“Coach.” He sniffled. “He’s—”

“Yeah, I’m getting to him! Can you please come over and help?!” Why was he dawdling so much? “Bread? Now’s not the time to be crying!”

He slowly pushed himself off the ground.

“Can you hurry it up?!” She couldn’t take it. It was taking him ages. Okay, whatever. I’ll do this myself. She walked a few steps back. Then, with a running start, she slammed her shoulder into the door.

It bent at the edges, but the force wasn’t enough.

She stepped back again. This time, she pulled her right hand back. And when she dashed in, she threw the strongest cross punch she could throw. Steam gushed out from her arms as it slammed into the hard metal surface.

The door finally crashed over.

“Coach!” She barged in. “Coach, are you—there…”

A body.

“Coach?” He was hunched, crouched over the wall. Blood pooled at his sides. “Coach…” Her voice quivered. She gently reached over and lifted his face.

A large wound on his forehead. Just large enough for a bullet… Blood continued to drip down her wrists, painting her hands dark scarlet.

No…

His pupils had dilated, grown wide like the moon.

She caressed him close. He was cold. No… He was just unconscious, right? Just unconscious… He wasn’t. No, he wasn’t. He—

“Val…”

“B-Bread!” A savior! “Come here, quick! He’s—He’s not breathing. You can save him, right? You can zap him awake. Get his pulse going again!”

“I… can’t.” He started to break down again. “He’s dead.” He fell to his knees. “He’s already dead—”

“What are you saying?!” She threw a wrench, but it bounced off his shoulder. A metallic ring echoed back under the soft crackling of fire. “He’s not dead! Just do it. Like you always do!” She grabbed his hand and pressed it to Coach’s cold chest. “Do it!”

His hand weakly fell back to his side.

“Why… Why won’t you just listen for once?” Her face burned. She could feel something in her eye. “Why do you keep messing up my life?!” She wouldn’t stand for it. She was going to save Coach no matter what.

Maybe he’s suffocating? From the smoke? She quickly pulled the unconscious Coach up and carried him out into the open fields of dirt. Then she gently placed him down.

“Val?”

Chest compressions. That was what he needed. She started to pump his chest with air. He was going to live. One, two, three, four… She continued to pump vigorously. The hole above his eyes stared back. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen… She wasn’t going to let him die. Not when it was her fault the merc had come here. Twenty, twenty-one… It was her fault. All her fault… Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven… There was a hole… above his eyes. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine… Something caught her eye—a gun.

Thirty…

“Fuck!” She grabbed the gun. Her eyes watered. From all the fire. She stomped over to the merc. He was still knocked out. She aimed it just above his eyes. It was him. He was the one at fault. She placed her finger on the trigger. She’d make his face look the same as Coach’s. She’d make him suffer the same fate—

“No!” Bread jumped in front of the merc.

“Get out of my way.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Get out!”

“Coach said you had heart!” he cried. “He didn’t want you to become like Rictor. You’re better than that!”

“I don’t care!” She pushed him aside and aimed the gun.

“No!” Bread grabbed the gun away.

“Give me the gun.”

“No—”

She punched him in the face. He staggered back. “Give it.”

“No…”

She punched him again. Her hands throbbed. “I said, give it!”

“I won’t—” She threw a sharp hook to his stomach. He stumbled a little, but his grip never eased. “Let you fall again.” He pulled the gun closer to his chest. “He said we were family…”

“Family?” She couldn’t control her tears anymore. “What family? He’s gone. He’s never coming back!” Because of me. Because she had stolen that mask. “I hate you. It’s your fault…” It was her fault. It was all her fault… “I hate you so much…” She couldn’t scream anymore; her voice cracked. “I wish I never found you!”

Sirens blared in the distance.