The Bro Code

The Swordswoman and the Unspoken Speaker

64: Amir: The Swordswoman and the Unspoken Speaker 

WC: 12,377

this chapter is dedicated to @dabookworm92 for her unwavering support and agglomeration of comments that have made this book-writing experience a far more enjoyable one

...

still June 1st

Chris, Bram, Bryan, Alfie, Maeve and I ran into the dome; a hue of gold shot down on us, a vast dynamic from the dark, grey hallways we had just ran through. We'd made it all the way to the centre of the room, where Hannibal, Harold, and Gabe were just lying there, before Chris suddenly dropped to his knees.

My vision slowly came into focus and I noticed that something was very off. A trapdoor was open, and beside it sat Hannibal, who looked just on the brink of insanity; he was staring into blank space, his breathing somewhat ceasing to exist. Harold was beside him, and he was crying. Gasping, shuddering crying, as if he were trying his best to refrain from downright drowning in his own wails and tears. And I noticed, too, how Gabe was not doing anything at all - except spilling his blood all over Harold's dress and the carpet as he lay limp on Harold's lap. 

"What's... what's this?" Chris asked, eyeing Harold's face wrought with hysterics and Gabe, who was frighteningly limp. Insanity was beginning to clench at all of us, as the answer to what this is dawned on us quicker than we would have accepted. Chris slumped slightly, his mouth forming a disbelieving o.

And then soon the silence in the room was reverberating, pounding, taunting us to break this awfully twisted fog and possibly put a stamp of approval on the scenario we've only had doubts about for the past seconds.

But in moments we all were where Chris was, observing the mourning duo and Gabe's slack face with clenched fists and pounding hearts. Maeve's face had gone totally blank, her shoulders slightly slouching; Bryan was shaking uncontrollably; Bram was hastily wiping away tears, his jaw tightly clenched. We were subjected to the empty, desperate room of grief that all men fought to tear away from themselves, in order to turn out victoriously unemotional. But I realized right then and right there that it didn't have to work like that, and I would have burst into tears if it hadn't been for my determination to get our job done. 

"Gabe - he's - what happened to him?" I asked breathlessly, eyeing Harold as if to warn him to not say the truthful answer. But I know it didn't work like that. Harold only shut his eyes, tears leaking out of them, and shook his head slightly. I felt my heart sink to the centre of the Earth; my innards twist with immense anxiety. I suddenly felt sick.

"Harold - Harold - Harold - " I said, my voice gaspy and strained and sounding totally stupid. Only his crying could be heard in the dome for a moment. I stepped forward, trying not to look at Gabe, and grabbed Harold's limp arm. "Harold - " I fought back tears, "let's get up now, Harold - " I tried pulling him to his feet, but he clung onto Gabe as if he were his lifeline. With a fresh surge of strength, I yanked on Harold until he stumbled up, leaving Gabe lying helplessly on the floor in a pool of his own blood, and as Harold succumbed to unquenchable tears I pressed his face to my chest and wrapped my arms around his head, unable to breathe myself as I realized just how broken and messed up this situation really was. 

"What're you playing at?" Chris said. "Don't you understand what happened?" His face was stained with tears and red with anger and grief. Harold collapsed into my chest, bawling uncontrollably.

"We have to go," I said quietly. I realized I was trembling. I kept my eyes trained steadily on the distant wall, so they wouldn't wander and catch a glimpse of Gabe's face. Everyone was staring at me and Harold. "We have to go," I repeated, slower this time - my lip trembled when I said it.