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It had been two days of running.
Two days of rain, of silence, of no voices but her own thoughts clawing at the inside of her skull.
I guess that’s an improvement.
Zuri sat on a fallen log, knees hugged to her chest, watching the rain trail in sheets down the mountainside. The storm had rolled in that morning and hadn’t stopped since. Her clothes were soaked through, her limbs cold, her body aching in places she hadn’t noticed until now. Bruises and injuries from Mondays battle finally settling in - with Zuri choosing not to heal herself to make sure she can still feel something in her time of grief. The fire she started had died hours ago, though she hadn’t moved since.
The soft thud of rain on canvas was the only rhythm she knew anymore. Somewhere in her pack, untouched, were the cabbage rolls Emmi had made. Wrapped with care, still tied with that neat little knot Emmi always used. Zuri had stared at them earlier, hands shaking, stomach hollow - then shoved them back in the bag. She couldn’t bring herself to eat them. Not yet. Not when every bite would remind her of a warmth she no longer felt worthy of.
Next to the rolls was a small, dried poppy flower. The one Alab had given to her that day in the hospital when he visited. She ran her thumb over its fragile stem without meaning to, as if part of her still hoped his steady presence might return if she held it tightly enough.
But the flower didn’t speak.
Neither did the rain.
She’d tried, earlier, to reach Keiko. To speak, even just for a moment, to tell him what had happened, to ask him what to do, to not be alone. But the connection kept slipping through her fingers like water. Her focus cracked and splintered under the weight of everything. Her breathing had quickened, her vision gone blurry. She hadn’t even realized she was crying again until she tasted the salt.
She whispered his name again now, just once. Nothing answered.
"I can’t even do that right," she muttered, voice hoarse from disuse.
Everyone had looked at her differently after Koni. Arrag. Dante. Maybe they were right. Maybe she had chosen wrong. Maybe trying to save someone who wouldn’t save themselves was just another mistake. Another failure in a long line of failures. She just… saw bits of herself in Koni. She wanted to help rescue her from those demons eating away at her. She hoped if Koni could be saved… so could she.
She was getting better… Or maybe I saw what I wanted to see…
She hunched lower, arms wrapped tight around herself, as if trying to disappear into the earth.
“I wasn’t built for this,” she whispered to the storm. “The voice is right. I’m not strong. I’m not like them.”
She missed Emmi’s laugh. The weight of Alab’s arm thrown casually over her shoulder. The way Keiko had always believed in her, even when she didn’t believe in herself.
But now she was alone again. Just like before.
And part of her wondered if maybe that’s where she was always meant to end up.
They’ll be better off without me. I’m sure of it.