#taskmanaging

His hands, once warm and inviting, were freezing. Cold and metallic, just as his eyes as he stared down at you, the fingers around your neck tightening each time you attempted to say his name, to call for help.

The only logical thing that you could think of was that a virus hit him, corrupted what made him the gentle and shy boy you were falling fast for and turning him into this uncaring monster. This thing that may have had his face and voice, but it didn't have his soul.

Your mind was racing.

What happened to Dirk? Did Hal do this to her as well? Did he make her suffer and slowly take her life? Or had he not gotten to her yet and she was safe?

There was no way to warn her, but you hoped that she wouldn't come here. That she wouldn't have to see what happened to him. That she wouldn't have to know that the body she made for him got infected and in turn, corrupted, along with him.

Just as you gather enough energy to say his name, a soft, "Hal-" something snaps.

If your neck is snapped, death comes quickly. So there was no way that what you "saw" was real. That Hal's eyes gained his own light back the second the bones broke and your throat crushed.

It wasn't possible.