urieâs heart ached. it constricted in every way possible. he thought he had been at peace with the concept of death. he thought he understood it, knew how to deal with the pain and knew how to occupy himself so he wouldnât be tempted to wallow in the heartbreak. then nadiya died. his whole world turned upside down and all of a sudden urie was reminded that he was really nothing more than a kid. scared. alone. sick.   â itâs okay nadi, itâs okay. â   he tried to soothe the apparition, tried to reach out and cup her sad face with his hands but he could only grasp at thin air. every time he tried to hold her, brush the hair from her face, do something- anything, all he felt was cold. urie couldnât stop the tears from falling when they came, couldnât stop himself from putting his fist through the drywall. all his hard work, painting those walls to look so beautiful, gone in an instant. just like her. sniffing hard, he tried to wipe his eyes and went back to his altar. jars of bones, a preserved fish head, dried and dead insects, all brought out from his shelves.   â iâll get it back, nadi. itâs gonna be okay, i promise. iâll take care of you, just let me look after you this once okay ?? â   books on voodoo, blood magic, open and scattered on his desk. hot, fat tears stained the pages as he searched for even a hint of what to do.   â you always take care of me and weston. please just let me do this for you. â
