The first thing I beca aware of was pain.
It wasn’t just one specific pain, either.
Everything hurt.
My back felt like sobody had tried to remove it and then changed their mind halfway through.
My shoulder was screaming like it wanted to rip itself off and beat with my own arm.
My leg felt wrong in ways I didn’t particularly want to investigate.
Even breathing seed determined to contribute to the problem.
Every ti I focused on one injury, three others imdiately reminded they existed.
That seed excessive, even for .
I tried to take in a deep breath, but the pain told that that wasn’t a good idea, so I tried to move my hand.
Nothing happened.
I frowned and tried again, which turned out to be a mistake. Pain ripped through my body hard enough to scatter my thoughts before they could properly form. Whatever had happened before I blacked out had clearly involved sothing large, violent, and deeply disrespectful.
For several seconds, I seriously considered whether I was dead.
The evidence was mixed.
I couldn’t move.
Everything hurt.
On the other hand, I had never heard anyone describe death as this annoying. If this was the afterlife, sobody needed to file a complaint because the service was terrible.
A crash echoed sowhere nearby.
Then another.
Then loud voices followed.
At first, they all blended together into aningless noise. Sobody was shouting. Sothing broke. Sobody else shouted back. The sound bounced around inside my skull until I couldn’t tell whether it was happening around or inside my head.
That alone convinced I was probably still alive.
Dead people should not have to listen to this much nonsense.
Dear God, please don’t tell that you hate enough to make be reborn for a third ti.
Trying to take in a smaller breath this ti, the rest of my brain finally started catching up. The sounds around beca easier to separate. The voices stopped blending together. The confusion didn’t disappear completely, but it beca manageable.
The first voice I recognized belonged to Commander Li.
I couldn’t make out the words yet, but I knew the voice.
A second voice followed almost imdiately afterward.
ilan.
Well.
That explained why everything sounded irritating.
Then the sll reached next.
Smoke.
Not fireplace smoke.
Not sobody cooking.
Real smoke.
That got my attention.
My house contained an alarming amount of plant life, and plants generally had strong opinions about being set on fire. If there was smoke in the air, sobody had probably done sothing stupid.
Considering ilan was present, that narrowed the list considerably.
I tried to open my eyes but nothing happened. Apparently my eyelids had decided they were no longer participating in this situation.
Wonderful.
A familiar voice cut through the argunt and I recognized Chenghai’s voice.
I couldn’t hear most of what he was saying, but I caught enough words to know he was upset about sothing. Since Chenghai spent most of his ti upset about sothing, that wasn’t particularly useful information.
A second voice followed.
Yuche.
Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t shouting.
Even without opening my eyes, I knew he was nearby. I couldn’t explain how. I just knew. That should have been comforting.
Instead, it worried .
Yuche only hovered when things were bad.
Really bad.
Sothing shifted against my shoulder.
The baby vine.
The little nace made a miserable sound near my neck, and that worried more than the pain.
The baby wasn’t upset often.
Hungry, yes.
Violent, constantly.
Offended, daily.
Upset?
Not often.
The more pieces I gathered, the worse the picture beca.
Yuche was nearby.
The baby was upset.
There was smoke in the air.
Commander Li and ilan were both in my house.
Everything hurt.
Sothing bad had happened.
I reached for the mory and imdiately regretted it.
Teeth.
Blood.
Darkness.
A mouth large enough to swallow a person whole.
The mory vanished as quickly as it arrived, but it left enough behind for to understand one thing.
I should not be alive.
The thought wasn’t emotional. It wasn’t dramatic. It was simply true.
I rembered enough of that fight to know exactly how badly it should have ended. Instead, I was lying in my living room listening to people argue.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure whether that counted as an improvent.
Another crash echoed through the room.
Glass shattered.
Sothing heavy hit the floor.
This ti, I recognized the sound imdiately.
Furniture.
Sobody had broken a piece of furniture.
The realization cut through the fog in my head faster than the pain ever could. Suddenly, being conscious felt significantly more important. The voices beca clearer. The sounds beca clearer. The room around beca clearer.
People weren’t just arguing.
They were moving.
Fast.
There were too many footsteps. Too much noise. Too many impacts.
Nobody sounded scared.
Nobody sounded like they were running from zombies.
They sounded like they were fighting.
Inside my house.
That thought took several seconds to fully register because my brain refused to accept it.
People were fighting in my living room.
Not zombies.
Not monsters.
People.
Human beings.
Inside my house.
Another crash sounded.
Sobody shouted.
Sobody else swore.
Then Chenghai’s voice cut through the chaos.
"You cracked the ceiling!"
The room briefly went silent.
My outrage doubled.
The ceiling?
They cracked my ceiling?
That felt personal.
I wasn’t entirely sure why it felt more offensive than the broken furniture, but it did. Furniture could be replaced. A cracked ceiling implied commitnt. It ant sobody had looked at my house and decided destruction was a group activity.
Absolutely not.
Sothing moved.
Not in the room.
Inside .
The movent was tiny, weak, and barely noticeable, but it was there.
I focused on it imdiately.
My hand.
I could finally feel my hand. Then my arm. Then the muscles around my eyes.
Everything still hurt and complained in a loud voice full of pain every ti I moves, but I ignored it.
One problem at a ti.
The idiots destroying my house were still here. They weren’t going anywhere until I figured out who they were and why they thought this was acceptable behavior.
I took a slow breath and imdiately regretted it.
The second breath wasn’t much better.
The third hurt enough that black spots flickered through my vision even though my eyes were still closed.
Apparently breathing had beco a competitive sport while I was unconscious.
Fine.
I had survived worse.
Probably.
The smoke slled stronger now. The shouting was easier to understand. The sounds of fighting were impossible to ignore. Every second that passed confird the sa thing.
People were still destroying my house.
That alone was enough motivation.
Slowly, painfully, and with far more effort than should have been necessary, I forced my body to cooperate. My eyelids felt heavier than concrete, but eventually they began to respond.
A little.
Then more.
Then enough.
I opened my eyes and imdiately discovered that the situation was sohow worse than I imagined.
My living room looked like several grown adults had attempted to settle their disagreents through property damage.
And judging by the expressions on everyone’s faces, nobody had won.
"Nobody better fucking move," I hissed, trying to get control. "The next one to so much as breathe wrong is going to die. I am not kidding around."
Apparently, waking up was a bitch... and so was I.
User Comments
0 comments from readers