when we were alone, either in his apartment or mine, he would just whisper my name for the sheer pleasure of saying it.
"monty?"
"yes?"
"we'll survive this, won't we?"
"together, we can do anything," i lied.
"we made the right choice, didn't we? cho...
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He was lost.
Hopelessly, terribly lost.
That body in that hospital bed wasn't warm anymore.
She wasn't herself anymore.
She crossed the boundary from living dead to recently decreased into corpse.
Her hand was stiff in his like she didn't want to let go.
"Antonio, I am so sorry," his mother placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am so, so sorry."
He mumbled something into his chest.
His mother edged in, straining to hear.
"What'd you say?"
"I have to get out of here," he whispered. "I need to get out of here."
"This will pass," his father assured, warm stomach pressing into his son's arm. "It will get better with time. Just give it time, Antonio."
But it wouldn't get better. In fact, his future was slated to get much, much worse.
The treatments weren't working. Whatever she had was digesting her spirit from the inside out. Who knew how long it had been nibbling away, munching at the edges of her internal organs? A few months? Years? Her entire life?
Either way, her personality disintegrated along with her liver, her lungs, the lining of her stomach, her heartstrings.
"I don't understand why you're still here," she glared at him, eyes glassy, but sharp enough to cut diamonds.
"Because I want to be," Antonio unwrapped his scarf and wound it around her thinning neck. She was always shivering, a side effect of the drugs. She always looked so cold. She scowled at his mothering but didn't remove the toasty orange fabric nonetheless. "Why else?"
"You wouldn't want to be here if you understood."
"You think I don't understand you?"
"I know you don't. You're just like the rest of them. I don't want a pity party."
"I'm not pitying you, I just want to be here."
"Why? You think I didn't notice the way that nurse looked at you when you came in? How she slid against you on her way out the door?" She coughed up a mouth full of rocks. "So why don't you just go? Save yourself the trouble and leave?"
He knew what she was doing. She was always like this - wall after wall he had to climb before she would tell him about her parents, her childhood, what actually happened to her brother before, during, and after The War. Before Prime.
And after two years of careful excavation on his part, she threw up her defenses again within a matter of seconds. She regarded him as she would a stranger - no, colder. Her sworn enemy.
