The answer was clear.
The choice was obvious.
Yet Ira remained frozen at the door.
Her left arm, tungsten steel and carbon fiber, laid stiffly at her side while her fingers hovered just about the sensor surface.
Let him go.
If you love him, let him go.
It's never too late.
Let him go.
"Ori…I'm not…like you." Her eyes fluttered, lids heavy. Her prosthetic arm weight her down and her brow knotted tightly, deep hills and valleys aging her decades.
She pulled her hand back and turned, walking several steps away from the locked cell, before she spun back around and march towards her.
This must have been the 10th time she has done this. The floors were dented by her steps, cracks decorated the wall from where she had been tapping.
Tapping to the drums in her head. The pounding of her heart.
Do the right thing. Let him go.
Stop hurting him.
This is the only way to fix things.
Her fingers coiled in her air, her body swaying side to side. "If I let him go, then I lose him. I lose him." Her eyes narrowed and her teeth clenched with a snarl, "She wins. The coward gets him back!"
No more excuses.
No more lies.
Let him go.
"It hurts. It hurts…"
"You promised me! Don't you leave, don't you dare leave!"
"I can't let her win and I can't let him go. I promised, I promised—"
"Why do you destroy the things you like so much?"
"Ira, I love you! I'll never run away again! Let me out!"
"Sis, Let him go."
Her bottom lip trembled, releasing a choked sob. "It hurts so much…"
He is suffering. He has been through enough.
"Ira…let him go."
That was the last thing she wanted to do, yet when she glanced back at the door, she knew it was the only thing she could do. She straightened her spine as her fingers trembled, lifting to the sensor.
I can release him somewhere else. With enough money to make a new life. Where he can open a pastry shop, get the best medical care, therapy and never…never have to see me again.
She sniffled, her eyes closing as scalding tears smeared her mascara. "F-Fuck. I'm a mess."
He doesn't need to go back to her. In fact, he probably doesn't want to be near her. Or me. He can go wherever he wants. He can be happy…without me.
I don't need him—
Her fingers hesitated again as that an obvious lie flickered across her mind.
Of course, she needed him.
He didn't need her.
For once…do the right thing. For him.
For Tristan.
I would do anything for him. So I will do this…even if…
"It hurts." She waved her fingers over the sensor, a low, defeated sigh hissing from between her lips. She grimaced hearing the buzzer, her heart slamming against her chest, her throat feeling tight. So many nights she wanted to this very thing, aching to rip the door off its hinges and pull him into her embrace. Maybe she will embrace him one last time before setting him free.
She had to be strong, and she had to let him go—
Her right nostril twitched as the scent of iron clouded her senses, causing her eyes to snap wide open.
There was blood along the floor and dark red splatters along the walls where the stark fluorescent light of the hall touched.
Her eardrums rang, pain cutting through her head from déjà vu. She gripped her forehead, closing her eyes and twisted her neck side to side. "No. No. Dream. This is a dream. A nightmare. Wake up."
She opened her eyes again, and a low whine escaped her throat before she knelt down, steel fingers dipping into a pool of red. "Wake up. Wake up. This isn't real. This isn't real."
Her eyes stung, yet she forced them to stay open, following the dark stream of red towards the center of the room. She swallowed heavily, her breaths coming out in heaves as blood soaked her pants, smearing against her knees. Steel and flesh sank into the wet trail of rust as she crept forward, "This…this is not real. It's not. Wake up. Please let me wake up."
When she reached a still figure, laying in the darkness, her throat tightened further, threatening to close. Her right hand reached over, only to pause. If she touched it, would it pop like before? If it popped, like a red blood balloon, then this was a dream. This is a nightmare.
This could not be reality.
She could not accept this as reality.
When her fingers gripped the shoulder, a whimper shook from her trembling lips. When she pulled the body towards the cold light of the open doorway, her head was underwater, ears filling with fluid.
When she looked down at his pale face, lips tinted blue and long-lashed eyes closed, she screamed.
"TRISTAN!"
This was not happening.
This could not be happening.
This was not real!
"Tristan! No, no! NO!" She pulled him up towards her, her arms wrapping around his body. "NO! Wake up! Please wake up!" She shivered from his cold skin, her vision foggy, "WAKE UP! Wake up!"
She gripped his shoulder, jerking him back at him against her chest. It was so hard to see; she couldn't tell if there was any movement of his chest, any air released from his lips. All she could do was cry and roar, "Tristan! You can't do this! I promised—"
"You deserve to rot."
Her own words snarled back at her and her jaw went slack. Heavy burning tears hit his cheek, her nose running as horror and shame stabbed her heart.
Over and over again.
She didn't hear the alarms that triggered from her cries. The footsteps coming towards her sounded like crashing waves, thudding and filling her ears. All she could focus on was this reality.
This disgusting reality.
Her light in the darkness…
It was leaving her.
He was leaving her!
"NO! No! Don't go! Don't do this! Don-don't leave me!" She gripped his body tighter as hands reached out towards him, shaking her head, "Don't leave me! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!"
Was someone calling her name?
Whoever it was, it didn't have his airy laugh. They didn't have his gentle tenor.
The hand reaching out to her were unfamiliar. When one moved to grip her right arm, she jerked it away, a wail erupting from her lips, "DON'T! DON'T! Don't take him away! Please! I have to wake him up! I have to wake him up!" She could hear gasps in the shadows, the blurred, vague shapes of people circling her, but she didn't care. She didn't care that she was sobbing.
All she cared about was the man dying in her arms.
Dying…because of her.
Because she was too stubborn.
Because she was a monster.
A monster terrified of the dark and terrified of being alone.
Abandoned. Afraid.
So the man she loved tried to escape the only way he could.
Because of her.
She was so small. The body she held felt so heavy. So stiff.
So cold.
"I'm…I'm sorry." Her teeth clenched tightly as those two words escaped. Guilt was a noose that tightened around her neck and her left shoulder felt so heavy cradling Tristan's limp head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you here." She sniffled, her voice degenerating into whimpers. "I just wanted you to be-be mine! I ruined you, ruined everything!" Her eyes closed, heavy drops of salt and self-hatred dripping onto his beautiful face, "I'm so sorry!"
"I'm dreaming…The great Ira Dante…is sorry…" Cool fingers just barely traced her cheek; a familiar touch smearing the tears into her burning skin.
She jerked her head towards that weak, airy tenor, "Tristan! Sweet-sweetie, shh. Don't talk, okay?" She leaned her cheek against those fingertips, gazing into hazy ocean blues, "Don't talk. I'll fix this." She sniffled, trying to regain control of her emotions, even though the tears wouldn't stop. "Fuck!" She turned towards the people in the room, recognizing them as two guards and two medical staff. "What the fuck are you waiting for?! Get the doctor!"
"Gluttony is bringing her, Lady Dante." One guard stepped closer, though Ira could only see a fuzzy shape through her tears.
There were so many more orders to she wanted to command, but a soft hiss turned her attention back towards the dying angel in arms. His eyes fluttered close and his fingers dropped between her shoulder and neck. Her left arm shook him, her right hand gripping his, fingers intertwining, "Stay awake, sweetie. Stay awake, okay? I'll make it up to you. You will never be alone again, so stay awake. I need you to stay awake!"
He chuckled against her chest, blood gluing their hands together. Though it took so much effort, he tightened his grip. "Say it…Ira…say that you…" He took a hissing breath, his arm trembling, "…you love me."
"I love you."
Her answer was swift and impassioned, not a hint of hesitation.
"I love you Tristan. I need you. There is no one…nothing more precious!" More footsteps came into the room, but the weeping Devil paid them no mind. The angel was all that mattered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" The irony of this situation was not lost on them. The words he had whispered night after night, the pleas for forgiveness, now dropped desperately from her lips and into his ears. Though her voice had faded away.
Giant hands fell onto Ira's shoulders, the grip firm, but unmistakably gentle. "Sis, the doctor is waiting." Orsin nodded towards the guards and nurses, directing them to bring over a stretcher. "Let him go."
Let him go…
Let…him…go?
"NO!" She cradled Tristan possessively, teeth bared. "I will NEVER let him go! Ever! I can't! I need him!"
Orsin's hands jerked back, honey eyes looking into crazed scarlet, "Sissie…he needs help."
His deep bass came out in a whisper and a nurse gathered up the courage to speak. "Lady Dante!" He knelt down before her, looking down over the still young man. "He lost a lot of blood. We need to take him to the doctor."
Ira took heaving breaths, her eyes closing tightly. "Save him. Save him…" Her grip loosened around her beloved, Orsin gently peeling Tristan from her arms and seeing him on the stretcher. Her knees trembled and nearly buckled as she pushed herself up. "I order you to save him!"
The other nurse, accompanied by the two guards, wheeled the stretcher, the lead nurse remaining, holding up his hands, trying to calm the panicked beast known as Ira Dante. "We'll do our best, but he is very weak. I don't know if—"
"THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" The roar echoed from the walls, causing the ground to shake. Orsin stroked her back as she swayed, her fist clenched. "Whatever it takes, do it! Whatever he needs, give it to him!"
"Lady Dante, he needs a blood transfusion…"
"What do I have left?"
"ME! Me and everything I can give you!"
Her swaying stopped, her head tilting to the side. A gunshot ricocheted from the sudden movement, and she relaxed. "Use mine. As-as much as he needs."
The nurse was stunned, words almost failing him. Orsin stepped back, his jaw dropping in shock, "Sis…are…are you sure?"
"Since when am I not sure?" She ripped the bloodied sleeve from her right arm. "I can give anyone anything they need. Tristan can take all he needs."
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