Around 11 AM, Kian woke up, groggily pushed himself against the bed rest. He felt better than yesterday physically, but mentally not so much.
Another life.
His hand clutched the shirt over where it had started to hurt. Never-ending. He failed to save another life, and the feeling of guilt crashed over him like tidal waves.
Closing his knees towards his chest, he let himself curl in, trying to hold out from drowning.
He didn't want to get up. The breaths he took were not enough for his lungs, his heart felt heavy as if there was a boulder sitting on it, and he let himself fall back onto the bed, hoping he would melt into it. Thoughts ran wild, and he didn't have the energy to make them stop.
Everything felt so heavy, too much, even though he had been doing this for over ten years. It felt like no matter what he did, no matter how much effort he put in, things never got better. Every day, there was something more, and he was never enough.
He always had to be more.
Always.
Or else, he was utterly useless.
He had done this too many times, telling people that their loved ones are dying and they should prepare for the worst, but it never got easier. The crying, the weeping, the feeling of watching a family fall apart, watching friends grieve, letting bodies grow weaker under his touch.
Kian curled into himself more, the bed sheet crumpling under him just like his heart. It was hard to make up his mind even to take a step, when he knew deep down that everything was so temporary and he wasn't enough to keep everyone safe.
A client was waiting to get their protection amulet from him. He couldn't afford to lie down. Finally, after an hour or so, continuously yelling in his mind to get up, still taking forceful breaths to satisfy his lungs, he forced himself to get up and dragged himself to the bathroom inside his room.
✦ ✦ ✦
As if on autopilot, he stripped off all his clothes that reeked of sweat and vomit. Yesterday, he had overexerted his abilities but at least he could let Tera leave without feeling any pain. He brushed his teeth for god knows how long, and finally stood under the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would wash away at least a fraction of his sins. The steam rose in thick clouds, fogging the glass and filling his lungs with humid heat.
When he felt dizzy from inhaling the mist that had filled the entire shower stall, he raised his hand to shut off the water, and only then did he notice the white thread shining brighter than it should.
What?
He stared at it, goosebumps raising across the skin despite the heat. Instead of turning it off, he turned the heat up even more.
Everything was going according to plan, and even nature seemed to be agreeing with him. That unpredicted level of the possession case yesterday, followed by Terra's incident, the timing of it all was perfect, pushing Xal away from this whole mess.
He could not have that plan fail.
It would be another life destroyed because of the selfish decision he made.
What did I do wrong? What changed?
Yesterday, he was so sure that Xal would say no as the thread had lost almost all of its shine and was continuously draining. And he did say 'no' to his offer, among a lot of other things.
Jerk. He thought the word without any real spite behind it.
When his body couldn't take the heat anymore, his skin flushed red, he turned off the shower, not bothering to wipe the misted mirror, and walked out. He didn't bother stopping at it to wipe as he walked past it; had stopped doing that long ago.
A reminder of the first life lost because of him was etched onto his skin. The memory always left him in shivers. The biggest mistake he made in his life. Not only did he fail to maintain focus, but he also lost his grasp of the illness he had taken in so far; within seconds, it rebounded in double force, killing the person and burning traces of illness that had started purging inside of his core, onto his skin permanently.
You are okay.
You are okay.
The mark was almost like tree branches without leaves, like blackish vine tattoos running on his left arm, to his shoulder, and left torso, one single vine connecting to the hip and spreading a bit to the back.
It made him feel guilty whenever he caught sight of the mark.
He gathered the bedsheets, putting them in the washing machine, and fell onto the mattress with the towel around his hips, put a hand over his loud heart, and started controlling his breath.
It's okay. You are okay.
The words played like a broken record, and after around 30 more minutes, he was able to breathe properly.
Finally.