Snapping awake, I sat up.
The smell of dust welcomed me.
I was gasping; my lungs burned with the damp cold of the dead. My shirt was a cold, salty shroud, plastered to my skin by a feverish sweat.
For a second, I reached out, still missing the soft wool of his sweater.
"Greed…" I croaked.
The only answer was the dull, rhythmic thud of my own heart.
I scrambled to my knees, limbs feeling like lead.
My head spun, and the ghost of a bullet hole throbbed behind my eyes.
I looked around the dim box of a room.
Then, I looked at my hands.
They were trembling, pale and slick with sweat.
[I see you've found a replacement for me.]
Greed's words echoed in my head, but it wasn't the warm voice of a brother anymore.
It was the sharp, jagged edge of a reminder.
If I stayed here, shaking on my knees… could I even call myself a shield anymore?
"Welcome!"
A voice boomed through the hidden speakers, vibrating through the floorboards and into my bones.
I raised my hands and covered my ears, silencing the vibrations.
It boomed again.
"Ah, sorry, dear guests."
The volume adjusted until it was bearable.
I gripped my knee, pushing myself upright to stand.
I made my way to the door and twisted the knob.
The empty halls only echoed with Oliver's voice.
I stepped out, looking both ways before following the sound.
Strolling through the vacant halls, my mind kept quiet.
In a daze, I didn't realize a large, wooden door was all that separated me from Oliver.
I pressed my palm onto the surface of the door, silently boosting my courage before I entered.
With one gentle push, the door swung open