While drifting through the conscious and unconscious world, all I could hear were the endless screams of monsters as their bodies melted and their mother screamed. The sound did not come from any one direction.
It was everywhere at once, pressing against thought itself, threading through whatever thin line still separated waking from oblivion.
Those screams carried textures, wet tearing, boiling flesh, shrill notes of rage and agony layered into one monstrous chorus.
Even drifting half-dead, I could feel each cry dragging over my nerves. Victory was supposed to sound triumphant. Instead, it sounded like an entire species learning what extinction meant.
I was tapped out, and no matter how many pills I can chug right now, the best I could manage was to stay awake and conscious, fighting is out of the question. My body had gone past exhaustion into something colder and more fragile. Every breath felt measured. Every heartbeat felt like an effort negotiated at the edge of failure.
