Our feverish exchange eventually tapers off once more into a series of shuddering gasps and murmured endearments. I cradle Ava's frail, trembling form protectively against me, lavishing gentle caresses and feather-light kisses wherever I can reach.
In these fleeting, crystalline interludes, it almost feels like we've transcended the confines of our dank pit-prison. As though the scorching rapture we surrendered to so completely managed to temporarily lift us into a higher plane of sacred communion—one where the depravities and despair lying in wait can't taint us.
But such reverent illusions of deliverance are always ripped asunder far too abruptly. A violent shudder suddenly wracks Ava's skeletal frame, quickly followed by a wet, racking cough that forces her to double over.
"Ava?" I c
