I woke up with a start, the sheets cold and damp from the sweat that clung to my skin. My heart was still racing from the nightmare, but it wasn't just that. It was something else-something had changed in the air. My senses were sharper now, and the silence in the room felt oppressive, like it was waiting for something to happen.
I rubbed my face, trying to shake the remnants of the dream off, but when I opened my eyes, I froze.
A note.
It was sitting on my desk, a single piece of paper folded neatly, as though someone had placed it there carefully. I hadn't seen it before. I didn't remember anyone coming into my room. My breath caught in my throat as I reached for it, my hands shaking.
The handwriting was clean, sharp, and unfamiliar.
"Go to Amy's room."
I blinked at the note for a moment, my mind racing. What was this? Who left it here?
But the sense of dread that began to build in my chest pushed me into action. I had to check on her.
I stood up quickly, my legs unsteady beneath me. My head still felt foggy, but I ignored it, gripping the edge of my desk for support as I stumbled to the door. I could hear the faint creak of the floorboards beneath my feet as I walked down the hallway.
Amy's room was at the end of the hall. I didn't know why, but my footsteps grew heavier with each step, like I was walking toward something that I couldn't control, something that was already decided.
The door was slightly ajar, and I could see her room inside. The faint light from the hallway spilled into the darkness, illuminating nothing but shadows and stillness.
I pushed the door open fully, and then-
My stomach twisted. My breath hitched in my throat. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.
The room.
It was... wrong. It was wrong in a way that made every instinct in my body scream at me to run. The floor was slick, stained with blood-so much blood. It pooled in thick, dark patches, seeping into the cracks in the floorboards. The walls were splattered with red, dark smears of it painting everything.
But that wasn't what froze me in place. No, what made my heart stop was the sight that greeted me next.
Amy.
She was crucified to the wall. Her body was suspended by thick metal nails driven through her hands and feet, her chest torn open, guts spilling out in grotesque chunks, hanging loosely from her stomach. Her head lolled to one side, eyes open but blank, staring into nothingness. Her lips were cracked, her skin pale as death itself.
And the blood... the blood that dripped from her body had written something on the wall.
"Fate."
I stumbled back, my hands shaking violently, the blood in my veins turning to ice. I felt the room spinning, the world tilting sideways as my body screamed for air. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.
I reached out for the doorframe, gripping it tightly, my head spinning with dizziness. I felt like I was going to collapse. My knees threatened to buckle beneath me, and I had to fight every instinct in my body telling me to run, to get away from this nightmare.
But it was real. It was happening.
I turned and bolted from the room, my heart hammering in my chest, my breath ragged. I couldn't stop myself. My feet carried me down the hall, away from the blood, away from the horror.
I had to get out. I had to leave.
I couldn't stay here. I couldn't face this. Not now. Not ever.
I ran down the stairs, my breath coming in sharp gasps, my mind filled with the image of Amy-no, that... thing-hanging there, the cruel mark on the wall. I couldn't do it. I couldn't be responsible. I couldn't keep carrying this weight.
I didn't want to face this reality. I didn't want to face the responsibility. I didn't want to be the one to stop it.
I didn't want to be the one to end it all.
I grabbed my jacket from the hook by the door, tossing it on and slinging my bag over my shoulder. My hands trembled as I threw whatever I could into the bag-clothes, supplies, anything that might help me survive.
I couldn't think straight. The blood still haunted me. Amy's body was still burned into my mind, and the word "Fate" on the wall screamed in my head, twisting everything I knew.
I turned to my desk, hoping to grab something that might help, something to give me a sense of control.
But then I froze.
The Holy Lance-the one Raziel had told me to use-was gone.
I felt a wave of panic hit me. I swore I'd left it under the wardrobe, hidden away where no one could see it. The feathers. The sacred feathers I'd been given for protection-they were gone, too.
No sign of them. No trace.
I stumbled backward, my heart pounding in my chest. Everything felt wrong. Everything was slipping through my fingers, like sand in an hourglass. I couldn't stay. Not in this house. Not with the memories of what I'd just witnessed.
I ran outside, not even pausing to lock the door behind me. I didn't care. I didn't want to be here anymore. The house, the town, everything. I couldn't be a part of this.
I got into the Humvee, my hands shaking as I gripped the steering wheel. I started the engine, the roar of the engine filling my ears, drowning out the sounds of my own thoughts.
I slammed the gas pedal to the floor, speeding down the empty road, away from the house. Away from the mess I had left behind.
The weight of everything I had just witnessed was too much to bear. I couldn't do it. I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't the hero. I wasn't the one who could save anyone.
I wasn't that man.
I was just a coward.