Chapter 16 — What Lives Inside Her
749 Words
For a moment the words didn’t register.
Open you.
Her brain tried to treat the sentence like a metaphor.
Like he meant something symbolic. Something abstract.
But the look on his face made it very clear.
He meant it literally.
She stared at him.
“That’s a terrible sentence.”
“Yes.”
“You’re saying those things want to… what… rip me open like a door?”
He didn’t soften the answer.
“Yes.”
Her stomach turned.
“Fantastic.”
The wind moved again, colder now, sliding through the empty street like something searching for a place to settle.
Her eyes drifted to the dark corners between buildings.
She could still feel them.
The spirits hadn’t gone far.
They were waiting.
“You said they came from the wound,” she said slowly.
“Yes.”
“So if they open it again…”
“They become stronger.”
“How much stronger?”
His expression tightened.
“Enough to spread.”
The word hung in the air like something poisonous.
“Spread where?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away.
That was always a bad sign.
Finally he said quietly,
“Everywhere.”
Her chest tightened.
“You mean the whole world.”
“Yes.”
She laughed again, but it came out thin.
“So basically I’m carrying the apocalypse in my ribs.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
She paced a few steps across the broken pavement.
Her mind was racing now.
“You said earlier they were born from emotions.”
“Yes.”
“So if the wound opens again…”
“Every strong emotion could become something alive.”
Her pulse sped up.
“Anger.”
“Yes.”
“Fear.”
“Yes.”
“Jealousy.”
“Yes.”
“Love.”
His eyes darkened.
“Especially love.”
She stopped pacing.
“That sounds like a nightmare.”
“It would be.”
Silence settled between them again.
Then she looked back at him.
“You’ve been trying to destroy them for centuries.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s barely worked.”
“They keep being created.”
“But if the wound inside me closed…”
He didn’t say anything.
That silence felt heavier than anything else.
“So that’s it,” she said quietly.
“That’s the solution.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t want me near it earlier.”
“No.”
“Why?”
His voice dropped.
“Because closing the wound might kill you.”
The words landed hard.
She felt them settle deep in her chest.
Not panic.
Not yet.
Just reality.
“And opening it,” she said slowly, “would destroy everything.”
“Yes.”
“So either I die…”
Her voice trailed off.
“…or the world does.”
He didn’t argue with the summary.
A long moment passed.
The street felt colder now.
The night deeper.
Finally she asked the question that had been building quietly in the back of her mind since the fight began.
“How long until they figure this out?”
He looked toward the rooftops again.
Toward the shadows shifting at the edge of sight.
“They already have.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What?”
The wind carried something through the air then.
A sound.
Soft.
But unmistakable.
Not one whisper.
Not ten.
Hundreds.
From the rooftops.
From the alleys.
From the empty windows of the surrounding buildings.
The spirits had returned.
But this time they weren’t moving closer.
They were gathering above the street.
Dozens of them.
Maybe more.
Watching from the darkness like a living storm.
Her pulse hammered.
“That’s… a lot of them.”
“Yes.”
The shadows overhead shifted slowly.
Parting.
Making space.
Something larger moved through them.
Something that made the other spirits pull back.
Respectfully.
Fearfully.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“What is that?”
His expression hardened.
“That…”
He watched the massive shape descend from the rooftop like falling smoke.
“…is the first one that came through the wound.”
The creature landed in the center of the street.
Silently.
Its body looked almost human.
Almost.
But the hollow eyes were older than anything that should exist.
And when it smiled—
Every spirit around it bowed their heads.
Then it spoke.
And its voice sounded like the echo of a thousand broken hearts.
“Hello again, Creator.”
- Writer
