#purestvirtue

With each step, dark water sloshes and splashes around him. Seconds and minutes drag on into what feels like hours, but it's difficult to know for sure. A quick glance at both devices tells him that neither his watch nor his phone are properly keeping time. Even the light of his phone seems to dim and flicker in the midst of pure nihility, and he instinctively knows that were it not for the shattered fragments of his cornerstone still in his possession, he would have long been a goner already.

With each step, it becomes more and more difficult to keep going, his feet dragging through the water as if it has morphed into some kind of thick sludge. The river is wide—far, far too wide, and reaching the other side is starting to feel like little more than a pipe dream. In the back of his mind, he knows such thoughts are due to the influence of the Nihility itself, but as the minutes and hours seem to go on forever, these thoughts are quickly becoming more and more difficult to ignore. He shoves them down as best he can, intent on dealing with unpleasant thoughts as he always has...except this time, his left arm creeps around with more than twice the usual effort before he's able to hold it behind his back, fist clenched tight.

But the water grows ever deeper, and maintaining his balance is crucial. His hand doesn't stay behind his back for very long, and the fear returns.

With each step, he's realizing how much he hates this. The liquid is up to his neck now, and still there is no end in sight. He's going to die here, he thinks, and only one person will know. Would she say anything to the others if he never emerges on the other side? Would she care? Would any of them care?

Probably not, his thoughts answer.

Fear grips him, and he begins to stumble, barely catching himself to stay upright. The thoughts from just before his final act begin to resurface, and even as he pushes onward, still struggling not to give up, each one is like a knife digging into him, demanding that he stop and allow himself to sink.

Coward; a knife through his left hand. Murderer; a knife through his right hand. Failure; a knife in his left leg. Cursed; a knife through his right leg. Pointless; a knife in his gut. Crazy; a knife through his neck. Useless; a knife in his shoulder. Selfish; a knife in his back. Discarded; a knife in his side. Loser; a knife through his heart.

Everything hurts, and he can feel himself sinking, the water now just below his nose. He can't—he can't go on any longer. There's no point in trying if he'll never make it out alive; if no one would even care. He stumbles again, and this time, he doesn't try to catch himself. His head goes under the water, and he can't bring himself to move. He doesn't even want to move, really. He opens his mouth to scream, and water rushes in—

But then an unexpected hand reaches for him, lifting him far above the water's surface with ease. In his shock, he instinctively clings, latching onto the armor of the one now cradling him close. He's soaked to the bone, he can't speak from coughing, and it's all he can do to lean into the embrace of the man responsible for rescuing him. Without warning, soft lips touch his forehead, and a gentle surge of comforting warmth spreads through him. The negativity assaulting his mind begins to recede, and as his breathing returns to normal, he exhales a long, slow sigh.