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Kris stays slumped over the Holiday couch as they rapidly feel the heat leaving their chest. They did it- the rituals done and The Roarings gonna happen- Dess- god, they're going getting her back. It won't be for nothing- everything they did and everyone they hurt. Noelle will smile again and Rudy has another daughter- their mom has another kid to dote on like her own.
And they'll just…disappear. Like she did, they'll have missing posters for a month before everyone just- moves on. Hell, they probably won't even get a search party- they're the weird Dreemurr kid who never talks to anyone and-
The cough to the side again, barely holding themself up by their elbows as they hack up spittle and the taste of iron. If they squint, they can see the faintest bit of red against their fingers.
Kris guesses they have- maybe thirty minutes before some vital organ gives up. With the way theyre coughing, they wanna bet their lungs. God- that's morbid, but there's no other way to cope right now.
What shakes them out of their doomerised spiral is- the clicking of heels against tiled floor, and Kris realises that of course she wouldn't just let them die.
"…Carol." They squeak out, voice scratchy.
"Kris." She says, sternly. Like its their fault for this. "I guess I should be…thanking you. For this." And with a nonchalant movement, she sets a little case on the backrest of the couch. It's a small, glass cylinder, and in it sits…the soul. Their soul. Filling the space and glowing red, that's the little harbinger of- all of Kris' problems. And they're very suddenly hit with the urge to live. Not- not that actually, just the urge to make sure she doesn't do anything with them. Maybe it's out of spite or maybe something more- but…
Their fingers tap numbly against the glass panel. If they squint, they can see the Soul bop back and forth, like a agitated animal. Carol has a sad look on her face, before she sets the case on the floor again.
"…do you have anything you want me tell your Mother? Or in…the eulogy." She seems- genuinely sad over this- even though she's the one holding their lifeforce.
Kris just shrugs. If anything, the piles and piles of notes shoved under their bed should be enough. So they still, and wait until Carol's walking to the foyer of the house to lunge over the armrest of the couch. Their elbows hit the wooden tiles awkwardly, scraping them up and sending them skidding as they stumble into her side. She reacts fast enough, as she slams jnto the wall and the case drops onto the floor.
It becomes blurry then. They're pretty sure they punch her- or kick or screams with their voice hoarse until she's pinned them to the floor.
When the sword slices through their side, they just start- laughing. Carol doesn't find this funny, with the way her brow furrows as their hands grab around the blade, fingers cutting into the silver. Red, sticky blood drips down their hip, and they can't even say it hurts that much. Their limbs feel like jelly, because of course she's still keeping the damn thing away from them, like a game of monkey in the middle.
Carol's about to drive the sword through their sternum when there's a knock at the door. It's loud, and pissed off. The door knocker swings violently against the white wood, and she just sighs. "Is that who I think it is?"
Kris can't answer, on account of the fact they barely feel like a living thing right now. More like a cockroach someone squished under their heel until they were a fine paste. When the pressure of her foot digging into their kidneys leaves, they gasp like a fish on land as she walks off.
They have a second to think before the door slams open. A purple, scaled talon is the last thing Kris can make out before their vision goes blurry, and they slip shut. They hear the world shake around them, people shout and they hear the distinctive noise of glass shattering- someone yells out as the space between their eyelids is lit up red-
And Kris can only guess that this is where it goes wrong. Sirens ring in their ears, glass against their face as someone yells at them. Their face is sitting against her chest too- as they hang limply like a ragdoll. They're pretty sure this is where they faint- for real this time.
When they come to, they're throwing up in a sickingly green grass, chest heaving as Susie- her face blurry through the tears, rubs circles into their back.
"…than'k you."
Her face brightens, "Shit- hey, I thought we lost you there-"
"I' can't die, yknow." Kris ignores the cold in their chest, and the way their lungs rattle as their heart skips a beat. "Is…did you get the- Soul?"
Instantly, a look of horror crosses her face, "She- damnit- she- stabbed it. And it exploded and stopped moving and-" She pauses in her stuttering, "Kris- Kris don't tell me you're gonna- die without that thing-"
Susie scrambles up as she ducks back into the house, before coming back with the husk that's- their soul. It's grey toned now, and barely floats in her talons as the stab cracks through the entity.
Fuck.
"Look- look, I'll' be fine okay?" Even saying this, they feel blood in the back of their throat, and the world is beginning to go dark again. The last thing they hear is her screaming, shaking them by the chest like it'll revive them.
Somehow, Kris lives. They wake up in a white, sterile room, with six stitches in their side, a respirator down their throat and a billion machines hooked up to them. Susie is there when they wake up- because of course she is, and she regales what happened in the two weeks- bevause they were in a coma for two weeks, apparently. Carol got arrested- not for any supernatural reasons, just on the case that she assaulted them, and Susie could testify against self defense. With Rudy still sick, Noelle moved temporarily into the Dreemurr's house with Susie- and…
They…live. They get discharged, at some point, with a oxygen tank if they need it and heart medication. But- they're themself again, they can play piano and twitch their fingers, they can choose to talk and-
It's worth it.