I can feel it, his eyes staring into mine. Harsh, unforgiving. You’d think, if we were normal siblings, he’d look at me lovingly, or at least in a civil manner, but no, it’s all come down to this.

“Don’t you see? You can’t do this! Our universe—and all of them—have so much life that should be cherished! Why should we do something so horrible to them?”

“Because this is our purpose. We were created to kill, to create balance in the multiverse. This is what we do.”

God, he won’t even listen to me. Is he seriously that self-absorbed, that he won’t even listen to his own sister?

“But I don’t want to be known as someone who just spreads death and destruction! A-And what you’re doing is even worse! You’re putting so many innocent lives through so much suffering, and for what? Some stupid so-called destiny?”

The chuckle that follows that statement rings in my brain. “Dear sibling, so young and naive—”

“Don’t fucking patronize me.” The reply is sharp, cold, like ice, delivered with an icy glare. “I won’t let you do this to me anymore. I’d rather die!”

“Ironic, isn’t it? Considering that your name—”

“Don’t even say it.”

The silence is sudden, and for a moment, and for even longer than that, the silence feels overwhelming, as if it were suffocating us.

“I’m going to stop you.” Finally, the silence shatters. “I don’t care what it takes. As long as I stop you in your tracks before you kill them all, I don’t care what I end up doing.”

Something strange twitches in my heart as the footsteps grow further and further away.

It echoes in my head, like a memory in purgatory.

The noises. The lights. The screaming, coming from deep within my throat, and from…

I swallow hard. Thinking about it hurts.

It hurts so fucking much.

But I can’t dwell on this forever, can I?

Should I dwell on this…?

God, I don’t know anymore.

A shudder echoes through my body as I grip onto the crib tighter, staring down at the small baby sleeping inside.

She’s not mine. 

She never was.

Some would even say that she never will be. 

But this child…is all I have left of them.

Of her.

So of course, I’ll love her with all my heart, like my own daughter.

Because I made a promise, and goddammit, I intend to keep it even if it kills me.

Her soft cries break me from my train of thought, tiny hands rubbing at her face as she whimpered and whined.

“Hey, shhh. It’s okay, dear,” I whisper, moving to scoop her up in my arms, rocking her gently in my arms. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

The crying quiets down, the little baby girl grabbing at my shirt loosely as she started to drift off to sleep again, and I can’t help but smile softly.

“It’s going to be okay,” I say softly to her, but this time, I wasn’t coaxing. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise, Samara.”