Objective Consequence (Book Two of the Subjective Justice series)

Chapter Sixteen: Don't Leave Me

Where. . . Machines beeped in varied rhythms around Hawke, blurring into a dissonance of head pounding noise. Noise. Noise. Where am I?

Small, subtle trickles of pain made it past whatever medicinal herbs pumped through the mask on his face. Everything was rigid. He felt like if he moved, something would snap. He would snap in half.

Crack.

Hawke's spine snapped over the Commander's knee, like a stick. Like a twig. Weak. He was so weak and useless.

Pain.

So much pain.

He couldn't take it. He couldn't breathe.

Each inhale, something hard scraped against his insides. Something that shouldn't be there. Tightness gripped his chest like armor two sizes smaller than what it should have been. Suffocating, pressing, twisting and rising the panic. Hawke reached up with a trembling hand. Did he still have a face? Or was it just as gone as it had been? Would he find a hollow cavern where his eye once was?

His hand stopped just shy of his face, unable to move further. Several wires that faded far from his blurry sight prevented him from finding out what was left of him. Was he captured? Hawke jerked away, from the wires, throwing his body off to the side and crashing to the floor. Blinding pain tore through his body. Blood dripped in front of his eyes, tapping the floor louder than the beat of the machinery. Blood. So much blood.

Hawke couldn't breathe. He gasped for air, clutching at his bandages as claws extended from his hands.

He couldn't breathe.

"I'm going to tear you apart. Piece, by piece."

The sound of breaking bones, his breaking bones echoed in his ears. Hawke crawled across the floor, collapsing and dragging himself forward. "I don't want to die." He sobbed, his entire body trembling from the pain. "I don't want to die.

Images of the Commander towering over him flickered into the warehouse. Everything faded, replaced by rock and lava pools. There was no where to run. Nowhere to hide. Everyone had abandoned him. They'd left him to die.

Hawke screamed, curling into himself. "Please, stop!" Blood fell from the corner of his mouth, coating his tongue. He was going to die. He was going to die!

I don't want to die.

The Commander's boot swung toward his face, kicking him again, and again. Each impact splattered the ground in blood and bone.

"Please," Hawke pleaded, his voice a little above a whisper. "Please."

"I should have killed your mother before you were born. You're nothing but a pathetic half-breed. You never stood a chance against me," the Commander sneered, stabbing his claws into Hawke's already open wound and ripping it further.

No sound. It was too much. Too much. Hawke scrambled to his feet. He needed to run. Pain slammed into his stomach from the Commander's fist. Something crashed temporarily pulling him back to reality.

Flashes of people in coats lying on the floor went in front of his eyes. Broken equipment laid at his feet, shards of them stabbed into his legs and abdomen. Blood. So much blood. On him. On them. On everything. What was happening? Was he doing this?

The Commander stalked forward, his identical honey eyes flashing with fury. He dug his fingers into the hole in Hawke's shattered skull.

Static and searing agony sparked in a dancing haze with each sickening crunch as the Commander pulled the bone from his face. Hawke cried out, clutching at the damage as he fell to his knees.

Kicking Hawke to the ground, the Commander stabbed the wing further into Hawke's back. "Your group is going to die." The bone on the end stabbed a path that stopped at nothing. Popping. Tearing. Burning. "There's nothing you can do to stop it."

"Hawke, it's okay, you're safe now," Indra's gentle coo penetrated the memory, pulling him mostly back to the present time. He still couldn't see the warehouse, but at least he could see her. Indra cautiously grabbed his hand, tears streaming down her face. "It's going to be okay."

Hawke trembled in silence. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak, afraid that he'd be heard, afraid that the Commander would come back.

"Indra! Get away from him!" An unfamiliar voice cried in the distance.

Shaking, Hawke managed to close his bloody hand around Indra's. Please, don't go. Don't leave me. Tears and blood ran in streams down his face, splattering the floor in agonized rain. Don't leave me.

Indra's face faded away into dust, the Commander replacing her. It was a trick. It was all a trick. Hawke cried out, lunging for the Commander's throat. "How dare you!" He heaves, each breath scraping inside his chest, inside his abdomen. "How dare you look like her!"

Hawke slammed the Commander into the ground. A crack echoed across the stones. Screams, too high and shocked to be the Commander's broke the episode.

Horrified, Hawke looked down to see his hands around Indra's cracked neck. "Indra?" Blood pooled on the floor beneath her head as her eyes fluttered closed. Hawke gently let go, choked sobs ripping through his throat. "Indra!"

Sharp pain stabbed into his arm. Darkness overtook the nightmare. What had he done?

What had he done?