#rayla gray

~~~

I'm running through the woods, winds throwing my hair this way and that. Honestly it's kind of difficult to tell if I'm running away or running towards something.

An excited feeling rises in my chest, like I'm succeeding. But before I can actually feel accomplished, there is a sudden and sharp pain directly in my chest. I look down and see blood. Then I fall to my knees, then the floor.

Then I woke up.

I looked around the room. Kind of dingy, but it was nothing that couldn't be spruced up with a bit of love. There was a soft knock on my door, and I realized that I was breathing pretty heavily. That I was sweating.

"...hm? Who is it?" I asked, my voice shaky from the nightmare.

"Who else?" Answered the familiar, deeper voice. It was Silcio. He sounded sleepy, but still himself. "May I come in?"

"Yes, you may."

The door opened with a soft creak. His sweet, worried face poked inside. "I heard you yelling... Are you alright?"

I nodded, trying to hide the tremors in my hands. We didn't know each other that well, he didn't need to know of my own struggles.

"Fine. I'm sorry if I woke you," I responded, perhaps a bit too... Directly. I didn't want to be mean, but I didn't want to sound helpless either.

"No, I was up anyway. I just got worried when I heard your screams—they're quite the rarity," he answered, giving a soft but playful smile.

I forced a laugh and nodded. Silcio had been kind to me. He kept me fed, made sure people remembered who I was. He refused to let me fall into the shadows—because he could tell I wanted to. I appreciated that about him. He was a kind young man.

"Right... It was just a bad dream," I murmured, rubbing my arms with my palms.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I might be able to do to help?" He asked sincerely.

I shook my head, not wanting to inconvenience him. "No, no, no. It's alright. I just... Ever since coming here, after all the crazy life events, I get bad dreams sometimes."

He nodded. "Right. Well, let me know if you need anything. I'm just down the hall."

I knew where he stayed. He often let me decompress in his room. It felt somewhat like a sanctuary. He was like a flashlight in a dark tunnel. Not lighting everything up, but making each step forward bearable.

He gave me one last look before turning to leave.

"Wait!"

I didn't want to be alone.

"Huh?"

He didn't want to abandon me like this.

"...would it be completely inappropriate for me to ask if you stayed with me tonight?" I looked away from him, but I heard him step completely into my room and close the door with a heavy sigh.

"It would be. Since we're colleagues and all... But honestly, Thelonious knows me. Trusts me, trusts you. I'm sure we could get away with one night," he responded playfully, stepping closer to my bed.

I scooted over and he crawled in beside me. I glanced at him for a moment, his eyes were on my belly—rather than me.

"It's not doing a whole lot. Honestly, I just look like I had a big dinner right now," I said tiredly. "Don't look at it. Look at me."

Silcio looked at me and tilted his head with a slight smile. "Right, because you're much more important."

I knew his comment was supposed to be sarcastic, but in that moment, I felt more important than the lump in my stomach. "Yes, how'd you know?"

"Oh, just a guess," he whispered back, resting his head on the pillow next to mine. He reached his hand out between us, just offering it.

I took it and relaxed against my own pillow. His eyes were caught on mine. I preferred it that way. At least, I did for now.

"I knew they were two different colors, but I never noticed how beautiful they looked together until now..." He mumbled.

"You're just saying that," I responded, squeezing my eyes shut.

"You're the one that told me to look at you," he said. "...please open your eyes again."

I sighed and relented, letting myself look back at him. "Happy?"

"Very."

"But I am tired, so I'm going to close my eyes again," I whispered teasingly.

He chuckled slightly and nodded, squeezing my hand. It was nice. Reminded me I wasn't alone. "Good night, Miss Gray."

"I hate it when you call me that. Just call me Rayla," I mumbled, squeezing his hand back.

"Mm.. right, Rayla."

Background info, this is like... When Silcio dies, basically their goodbye, what rayla does while she waits for him, and when she finds out

~~~

Unlike most of the death in my life, I didn't see the body. It was one of the more normal ones...

"I can't just leave her alone, Ray," he'd said to me.

"She's sixteen. She doesn't need you babying her anymore." Honestly, I'd regretted saying it ever since it came out of my mouth.

"She's a kid! Momma and Pa don't even remember her half the time. What if something happens and I'm not there?!"

I only sighed and crossed my arms. I didn't want to admit it. But he was right. Maybe I just grew up too fast.

"It'll only be a few days. I know things are different now that we're married, but I'll be back before you know it," he said, his voice growing softer.

I remember how he reached for me. Like how he always did. It wasn't one of those "it felt final" moments. It was like every other time. Comfortable, but loving nonetheless. He held my hands in his and pulled me closer to kiss the top of my head.

"You've been clingy since the boy died," he commented quietly.

I hated talking about that. "So?"

"So, I'm trying to teach you independence, beautiful," he teased quietly. His arm went around my waist and he swayed us just a little, enough for us to take a few steps, but not enough to need music.

"I *am* independent," I mumbled back. My hands went to his ears, playing with them for a few moments before pulling away.

"Stupid deer," I added. But I couldn't help the smile on my face.

"I knew you'd come around. Just you see, you'll wake up tomorrow morning to my handsome face, and I'll be happy knowing that Opal is okay."

He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder and ruffled my hair just a bit before heading to the door.

"I love youuuuu," he said, leaning his head back to look at me.

"I love you too," I responded, mustering up a better smile than the begrudging one from before.

It's not like he hadn't been gone for more than a few days. But I dunno. Maybe I was just hoping he would keep his word. Maybe I was just hoping something would go my way for once.

But I remember being called into Hyde's office about four days later. I was sour from Silcio's absence, so I thought maybe I had said something harsh to someone important on accident and he was chewing me out.

A newspaper was set between us.

"You know where this is?" He asked gruffly, crossing his arms.

"That's Silcio's forest." I only glanced at the paper, at the picture on it. Didn't read the words. I looked back at him, obviously annoyed why he was showing me some paper with Silcio's home on it.

"Rayla, look at the paper," he said firmly.

Fire. *Fire*.

"This is how you break the news to me? You show me some newspaper? Don't even have the decency to say it?!" I snapped, standing up from the chair and slamming my hands on his desk.

"He was my friend too! People outside of you grieve too! But I couldn't keep this from you!" Hyde responded.

"He wasn't just my friend, Hyde! He was my husband!" I said loudly.

I remember feeling like I couldn't breathe. Like my chest was being weighed down by the weight of the earth. Like my heart had been ripped out.

Most people say that they can't think when they experience something like that. I had the opposite problem. My mind replayed every moment with him. Every laugh, every cry, every argument, every make up, the first time we kissed, the day Tommy was born.

I realized something.

I wasn't independent. I was dependent. On him.

I remember finding an alley outside and falling into the ground. On my hands and knees. It was pathetic. But no one watched, they all assumed I was on drugs or something. That was fine. I've done worse than drugs.

I hadn't even noticed. I felt guilty. Like if I truly loved him, wouldn't I have felt it? Wouldn't I have felt that same feeling when Tommy died? The pit in my stomach, the aching that a part of me was missing. But I felt nothing. These past few days I spent hoping for him to come home, not realizing that something was wrong.

That made me a bad wife. A bad lover. A bad partner.

I sat there for hours. Maybe more? I didn't know. I just knew it was dark when I looked at the sky again. A selfish part of me waited for someone to come find me. To come pick me up, piece me back together.

But no one came.

So I picked myself up and went back to my room at the House of Thelonious. Because that's all I know how to do. Pick myself up. Hide in my room. Do what I'm told.

I realized that I don't need someone to lean on. I don't need someone to piece me back together.

I feel more like a puppet. I need someone to pull my strings, I need someone to make me dance.

~~~

I woke up with a start. For some reason, the room felt too quiet. The kind of lingering silence that I thought had left me alone by now.

I looked over at my boyfriend, who was sleeping soundly beside me. He was peaceful, unbothered by the silence that I seemed sensitive to. I reached out, gently grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly.

"...Silcio? Wake up, something's wrong," I whispered.

I let him stir and wake in his own. I pulled the covers off of me and went over to the little mattress and bed that kept my son comfortable at night. I peaked over, looking for his little body.

He wasn't there.

Worry struck through me. He couldn't get out of his bed. If he could, I would have heard him. Surely I would have. I don't sleep the same now that I'm a mom. My heart pounded and I looked back at Silcio, rushing over to him and shaking him more roughly.

"Tommy's gone! Get up!" I said quickly.

I quickly opened our door and rushed into the hall. I looked around, calling Tommy's name. No answer.

I followed my gut, running through hallways and down staircases. I didn't bother to hide my footsteps or cover up my pajamas—a tank top and shorts. I had more pressing concerns.

I heard Silcio behind me, about twenty paces behind—maybe more. But I didn't wait for him, he understood.

I found myself on the ground level, opening the door that led to the garage.

There was an eerie silence. But, for some reason it felt so loud. It was the kind of silence that roared louder than any scream.

When I stepped down the steps, the breaths of heavy pants grew louder. I reached the floor in messy stumbles, and saw a shadowed figure hunched over in the corner.

"...Tommy?" I whispered quietly.

There was a scoff and the figure stood, coming into the light from the door. It was Rob, my stepdad. He held some kind of gardening shovel, bloodied and covered with flesh.

"Nah. Guess again," he murmured.

"Rob! Where's Tommy?!" I said, stepping over to him and grabbing the collar of his shirt.

Rob grabbed my wrists and pushed me off, and suddenly I felt like that fifteen year old girl again. Pissed off, scared, violated...

"Aw did I scare you?" He sneered. "Lookin' for the boy, are ya? Take a nice good look, sweetheart."

Rob stepped aside and grabbed the back of my neck, forcing me down to my hands and knees. I looked down on the ground, and in front of me was Tommy. Or what was left of him.

His head was just a pile of pink and red mush that was attached to a neck. His little body still had his pajamas on, and when I rested my hand on his stomach he was ice cold.

"...Tommy?" I said quietly, my voice was shaking—something I hadn't expected it to do, and something it hadn't done in years.

"Yeah, very good, Rayla. That is Tommy..." Rob murmured condescendingly, his hand tightening around my neck.

There was a loud clattering noise behind me, the shovel falling from his grasp. I flinched.

"Tell me, dollface. Why did you run away? Why didn't you bother to tell me you were pregnant? We could have figured it out, together," he continued. His hand wrapped around the front of my neck and pulled me back, away from Tommy. I let out a broken sob and reached for the small body, but I couldn't reach him.

"Go... Please, leave," I managed to get out.

Rob chuckled coldly and pulled me up to my feet, but I couldn't stand. It felt like everything in my body had gone weak, I couldn't do anything.

"Stand up, or I'll give you a reason to be limp," he muttered, holding me by my hair.

He suddenly released me and I fell to the ground, he sighed a little bit and then headed over to some kind of ground level window. He opened it up and crawled out. Gone, just like that.

I made another strangled noise and crawled over to Tommy. I sat up in front of him and stared. For a while the tears didn't come. Nothing did. I felt nothing. The adrenaline had faded, and now it was all numb. But, when I reached out to take his little socks off—as a keepsake—my vision blurred and my face grew hotter.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I could hear Silcio at the top of the stairs. He knew by now that I liked being alone when I cried. I didn't stay down there for long, not that it mattered. The image would be stuck in my mind whether I saw it for ten seconds or two hours.

When I managed to get the socks off, I scooted back and managed to stand. I stumbled over to the railing and went up the stairs. When I saw Silcio waiting for me curiously, I just handed him the socks.

"Princess...? Where's the boy?" He whispered, putting his arms around me and resting his cheek on the top of my head.

I just shook my head.

"...wha-... Who-?"

I shook my head again.

Silcio sighed a little bit and I looked up at him. I could see it. The way his eyes grew glassy, the redness in his nose and cheeks. The slight twitch of his ears.

"Alright... C'mere," he mumbled. He put one arm around my back and one beneath my legs, picking me up seamlessly. He sniffled a bit and looked up at the ceiling while he carried me back to our room.

"We'll figure everything out tomorrow, yeah?" He whispered as he set me down on our bed again. He tucked me in and pulled the covers over my head. "I'll be back. I've gotta go talk to a couple of the guys for a minute. Don't do anything stupid."

I just nodded and curled up under the covers. I stared at the sheets, the thin stripped pattern that I picked out. He chose the color, I chose pattern because patterns hurt my eyes and Silcio doesn't like certain shades.

Minutes passed, but by the time he was back, it felt like no time had passed. He crawled into bed and pulled me close, even though I didn't want it. I protested by pushing against him and he shook his head. "Please, Ray. He was mine too, I need this."

I sighed and hesitated, but gave in. My head rested against that spot where his heartbeat was strongest and it managed to lull me to sleep. He pressed little kisses to my forehead, but I could tell they were desperate. I felt bad, I wanted to love him right now, but the grief was too heavy.

LOOK AT THIS

LOOOOOOOOKKKKK ATTTTTTT THISSSSSSSSSS AHHHHHHHHHHHHH UTS MY SILLYYYY ITS RAYLAAAAAAA GRGRGRGGRGGRRGR

~~~

Everyone had split after the whole demon thing. [ DND player ] found her ending, [ DND player ] found his, [ DND player ], [ DND player ], [ DND player ], everyone.

I went back to couch hopping. I couldn't do that to my friends. Besides, I had a bit of money saved up. Enough to stay in a hotel, maybe go back to Karlyle? I didn't know. But, that night, I had been staying in a nicer hotel. Spent some of that gold I had bouncing around in my pockets.

Before bed, I smoked a joint and let everything settle. For the first time, it felt like my heart rate was at a normal level. But, I also felt terribly alone. I missed my friends, I missed the people that had turned into damn near family. They were the first real connection I felt. It felt like my tree, in a weird way—that connection, I mean.

When the smoke ended, I changed into something simple. A tank top and shorts. I pulled my hair down and brushed it. Put my bag down and let my tree sit beside my bed. I laid down on my left side, my preferred sleeping side, and closed my eyes. I fell asleep surprisingly easily despite the turmoil I felt.

I didn't dream, it was just blackness.

And then... A soft click. Like my door opening. No, not like. It was my door opening. I opened my eyes to look and saw nothing. I sat up and looked around. I jumped at the sight of a familiar face, more pale and gaunt. Her hair was longer. She was behind me, holding a gun.

"Rayla?..." I whispered quietly, feeling the tears welling in my eyes.

"Opal," she muttered coldly. "C'mon. I've got shit to do with you."

I tilted my head and frowned slightly, I hadn't seen her in so long... A part of me thought she had gotten herself killed while looking for me. "With me?"

Rayla nodded and held up my backpack, with my tree.

"I would say don't make me do something I'll regret. But, honestly, I won't regret this," she said numbly.

I sniffled a little bit and wiped my face, nodding quietly. She had my tree, I was powerless. A single snap and I'd be dead.

"Where-... Where are we going?" I asked nervously. Because I really didn't want to know, but for some reason I still asked.

"My place."

I nodded and got up, putting my hair up. Rayla grabbed my arm after that and pulled me along. All of my things... They were just left. I didn't even know if I'd come back for them.

The walk was long, and cold. It was dark, and Rayla held me like she wanted to feel my muscles between her fingers. It would bruise, I knew that much. My feet ached after a while, but she didn't stop. She had changed since I last saw her. She didn't seem to smile at all, she seemed composed and stoic, like my existence annoyed her but she couldn't show it.

When we stopped, we stood in front of this old looking manor. There weren't any signs, or people. Just silence. The eerie kind, the kind that followed after death.

"... you're place, huh?" I mumbled, giving a sad but playful smile.

"Shut up," she snapped back.

I looked down and rubbed my arm—she hadn't let go of it yet. Suddenly, she yanked me forward and pushed open the old wooden door. It creaked, then slammed shut behind us. I flinched at the loud slam, Rayla rolled her eyes.

She took me up the stairs, she was too quick. I didn't get much of a good look of the place. But it was huge.

Rayla opened another door and threw me onto the floor, then threw my sapling. The pot broke and dirt spilled out. The air in my lungs flushed out and I gasped for air, reaching for my tree.

"What- is this because of Silcio?" I asked painfully, clutching my little sapling close to my chest.

"What else would it be about, Opal?!" She responded loudly, slamming the door behind her and pulling out some kind of twisted blade—pointing it at me.

"He's gone! They're all gone! I don't have anyone left!" She continued.

"...you have me," I offered quietly.

"I don't want you! I never wanted you! You were just- just some stupid little girl that thought I gave a damn. You just thought that because your brother cared about you meant that I had to care about you too! But I don't! I couldn't care less about you, Opal! And now you've gone and killed the only thing that loved me! You're just a selfish brat!" She yelled.

I made at attempt to stand, her boot landed on my shoulder and she stood over me. She grabbed my tree, held it in her hand. She plucked one root from the bottom.

"I did a bit of research, Opal. I figured out it was you not long after Ty was killed," she said after a pause. She sounded calmer. "See, Dryads rely on their trees. If their tree dies, they die. What your tree feels, you feel... That fire, must have been so scary. Skin burning twice instead of once? I can't imagine..."

I stayed quiet, looking up at Rayla. She reached into some kind of pocket she had in her jeans and pulled out a syringe.

"The issue with the tree though, is that if I put something in your tree, it doesn't affect your body. You aren't physically connected," she explained, prepping the syringe. I squirmed and tried to get away, but she still had her boot on my chest.

Rayla leaned down and grabbed my chin, lifting my head up.

"No- no... No, Rayla, please.. please, please, Rayla. I didn't mean to kill him, i- I'm so sorry-" Tears choked me, my voice grew raspier and I tried to hide my neck from her.

"C'mon, Opal... It's not that scary. Just a little pinch and it's over. Let me see..." She coaxed, her voice dripping with sweet poison. "You won't die. You're not dying until I say so. This is just going to... Relax you."

The needle stabbed deep into my neck, I gasped slightly and the world immediately felt different. Felt like it was spinning and I was dizzy, or maybe I was spinning and the world was dizzy...

The subtle aching from that root being plucked turned into a firmer throb in my chest and I relaxed. The tension in my body left.

"Mmhg... Ray-..la? What- what's this?" I mumbled, trying to figure out how to breathe without it feeling unnatural.

"Shh, it's okay, Opal..." Her fingers moved to gently run through my hair and she sat beside me. She held my tree in one hand, my head in the other. "I don't quite know what was in it... Just saw the description and thought "that'll do"."

"It's not going to kill you," she repeated quietly, releasing my head. She grabbed that weird blade again and held it up to my sapling, drawing a simple line and glancing back at me.

Pain shot through my side and I yelled. My body writhed away from the pain, like it could actually escape. The pain followed, it always did. It was cold, firm, harsh. Nothing like the fire.

Rayla smiled and snickered a little bit. "How was that?"

A few more pained noises escaped my throat and I eventually settled down, the sharp pain dulled into a throbbing and aching feeling. I relaxed again, and as soon as I did, I felt a gentle tugging on one of my ears.

"Look at these things... On Silcio they were cute. On you? They're just a reminder of a heritage you didn't deserve," Rayla murmured.

The warmth hit before the pain did. The lack of weight too. The liquid that flooded down the side of my head. Then the hot pain shot through my skull. On the left side first. I stared up at the ceiling, and Rayla held it in front of me. My ear.

She quietly shuffled and sat on my other side, removing my right ear. "See, you always wanted to look like me. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"You know, I knew a girl named Juliette. She reminded me a lot of you," she started again. "So sweet, and innocent. She also copied every. Little. Thing. About me."

Her finger ran along my cheek. Along the scar that rested there. The scar that I had carved into my face, back when I was a silly little girl that didn't know what she was doing.

I felt tears in my eyes. Not from the pain, but just from the betrayal, and the fear. I never wanted to leave the party. I knew I was safe with them.

I knew that once I left, I wouldn't be able to keep myself safe like they could keep each other safe. I didn't think I'd end up here, but I knew I wouldn't have Selene to tell someone off, or Romulus to make them disappear.

"Oh don't cry, it's alright. It's just karma. We all have to handle it at some point." Rayla tenderly brushed my cheek, the tears smearing instead of disappearing.

Rayla grabbed the blade again, she ripped off my shirt and left me bare.

It was cold.

I was cold.

I should have liked the cold, considering the fire I had been surrounding myself in lately. I found comfort in fire. It's why I was drawn to [ DND player ]. It's why I managed to escape the fire. I've always been drawn to fire. Even when it scarred me.

The blade pressed down right below my sternum, and gently but firmly dragged along my stomach, down to where my shorts started.

"R-.. mmhh.. Rayla?" I managed to get out.

"Yes, Opal?" She said back, her voice soft. Like she wasn't ripping up my body right in front of me.

"P- please... 'm-.. m.. sorry," I choked out quietly.

"You're so pretty, Opal. I've been wondering what your insides look like..."

I just whimpered and turned my head away. She grabbed my face and turned it back to face her.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The pain was cold at first, but then the rush of blood made it hot. I felt it oozing out. She carved a bit more, but I couldn't tell what. I only felt the insistent heat. I made a pained noise, strangled and breathy. Rayla grabbed my cheek and tenderly stroked it. Like we were actually sisters.

"Wow... There's something beautiful about what's inside you, Opal. It's just like everyone else. No matter how many people you save with your little ragtag army... You're just a stupid, naive little deer," she said, her voice growing sharper. But she took a deep breath and let herself relax.

I let out another agonized squeak. The pain was awful. I never thought this would be how I'd go out. I never even realized that my body could process this much pain. It made me nauseous.

"It's alright. Think of it like surgery. I'm trying to make you all better," she explained gently. I couldn't look. I mean, I'd literally been speared. Twice. But... This was different. I wasn't ready to see the things inside me being on the outside.

"Opal..." She murmured softly, her thumb caressing that spot under my eye. "C'mon, open those eyes. The ones I've been oh so jealous of..."

My eyes flickered open, filled with pain and betrayal. Rayla only scoffed a little bit. "So ungrateful."

Against my better judgement, I looked down. Only for half a second. I didn't see much. Only red. Red where a usually smooth and tan stomach resided. My eyes filled with tears and I stared at the ceiling, letting them fall. Before I could hold it, a soft sob escaped my lips. My body lurched slightly and pain shot through me, sharp and renewed. Rayla smiled and looked at me.

"What a darling sound..." She whispered, but continued. Her fingers trailed along the inside of my skin, gently dancing across the organs that kept me alive.

"I have to be careful with you. One drop inside my mouth, and I'll be loopy..." She murmured, her voice low and far away.

There was a dull, but intense pain in my stomach. Something cold pressing in. Something moving where it shouldn't be moving. Then... It felt almost spacious. Too spacious. Like a void had been created in my stomach.

"You really are a pretty little doe, aren't you?" She gently booped my nose, the blood on her fingers sticking. I let out another cry and she shushed me.

"You're awfully noisy, you always have been. I suppose I should have expected that..." She held up some kind of lump in her hand. Now, I wasn't an expert in anatomy. But... That had to be one of my organs.

She pressed it towards me, towards my face. A wicked smile spread on her face and she ran her other hand through my hair. "Go on, Opal. Eat it. It doesn't taste that bad, I promise. I'm just trying to relive happy memories here. This very room was the room that my boss, one of your one time fuck-buddies, forced me to eat the liver of a man that I had tortured. See, this time it's a little different. The torturee gets a taste of herself. Maybe you can taste how sickeningly sweet you are underneath all the blood."

I refused. I let my head lull to the side and pursed my lips together.

"Mmph? No? Fine then." She pulled out a match box.

My heart pounded. Suddenly the aches in my body lessoned. Probably the adrenaline that had suddenly emerged through me.

Rayla stood up and swiped the match against some kind of rough part that was attached to her pants. It lit, and she gently picked my tree, placing it into the open wound on my stomach. Roots mingled with veins and the tree gave me a bit of my life back.

But as soon as that lively feeling came, it vanished. Replaced by heat. When I looked down, I saw flames engulfing my tree. I felt the heat on my elbow, up my arm, across my chest, down my legs, eventually it engulfed my whole body. Everything burned and ached. Rayla came back over and held my head in her lap. Her fingers stroked my hair, and the other hand rested on my neck—checking my pulse.

"I thought it was only natural that you felt what you did to my husband," she whispered, her fingers tugging at my pony tail and eventually pulling it out. "Poetic, perhaps."

The flames licked at my lungs, breathing felt like sandpaper dragging along my throat. Screaming felt like breathing for a while, then it felt like my brain was exploding. My breaths turned into rasps and my eyes filled with tears again. Rayla didn't clean them. She just stared down at me with a twisted version of satisfaction, a soft and pleased smile at every agonized noise I made.

"You can die now, Opal. And, please, don't feel guilty or afraid. I'm not scary. I'm just granting myself what no one else will. Justice," her voice was thick with emotion, but none of the emotions that might be useful to me.

I grew light headed. I felt trapped in my own body. In my own mind. I couldn't say anything. Instead, I just laid there, staring at those mismatched eyes that seemed to represent everything that I had spent so many years running from. The pain was unbearable, and my vision blurred. My eyes drooped and Rayla nodded.

"It's alright, Opal. It's okay to give in. To accept that you're not strong enough for this plane. Sometimes people just have to... Give up," she whispered.

Darkness splattered my vision, like little dots slowly engulfing everything I could see. The fire was so hot, so unbelievably unbearable. A part of me wanted to hope for a savior. Or even a different face to be holding me while I die. Maybe Karlyle. Maybe [ DND player ]. Maybe [ DND player ]. Hell, even my own damn dad. Because at least he had the decency to tell me when I'd crossed the line.

The last thing I experienced was her voice. When the pain was gone, when my eyes gave up, when the sweetness of my blood on my tongue faded, the smell of the smoke of my own tree faded too, I heard her voice one last time.