13. What We Leave Behind
13
WHAT WE LEAVE BEHIND
~NYX~
C onsciousness returns like breaking through the surface after being held underwater — sudden, shocking, and accompanied by a desperate need to breathe.
Only I am underwater, the realization hitting as my senses snap into razor-sharp focus.
My body thrums with adrenaline, every nerve ending firing at once. The shadows are silent, but something else fills that space — pure, crystalline clarity of purpose.
Looking up, I see Azurite holding Luna near the cracked glass ceiling. Their movements are becoming sluggish, faces strained with the effort of holding their breath.
Time is running out.
Urgency courses through me like electricity, propelling me upward through the water with swift, powerful strokes. Each movement feels charged with impossible energy, as if my body has tapped into some hidden reserve of strength.
The cracked glass beckons like a promise of freedom. Hope surges through my veins, mixing with the adrenaline until I feel invincible. Untouchable. Like something more than human.
More than their experiment…
Reaching the glass, I brace my legs against the walls on either side, finding stability despite the slick surface. My fingers grip the edge where concrete meets glass, and I pull my arm back, studying the spreading cracks with tactical precision.
The damage pattern tells a story — stress points spreading outward from the initial impact, creating lines of weakness that spider through the thick material. My mind calculates angles and force requirements with machine-like efficiency.
Three solid hits should do it.
Maybe four.
If placed exactly right.
The first punch connects with satisfying impact. Pain shoots through my knuckles, but it's nothing compared to what they've put me through in their trials.
Nothing compared to the agony of being their perfect M.U.S.E.
I strike again, channeling six years of rage into each blow.
Every punch carries the weight of:
Countless experiments.
Endless pain.
Being reduced to a number.
Having my humanity stripped away.
Watching others die while I survived.
My lungs begin to burn, demanding oxygen I can't provide. But I won't stop. Can't stop. Not when freedom is so close I can almost taste it.
Another punch.
The cracks spread wider.
I think about everything they've taken from me:
My memories.
My identity.
My chance at a normal life.
The possibility of finding a pack.
The simple joy of being wanted, being loved.
The next blow makes the glass sing with imminent failure.
I want to feel sun on my skin again. Want to breathe air that isn't recycled through sterile vents. I deserve to experience life beyond white walls and endless tests.
To know what it means to be an omega.
D iscover who I am beyond their carefully crafted weapon.
Find out if I'm capable of being loved.
The glass groans under my assault as I pour every dream, hope, and desperate wish into my strikes.
Freedom to choose my own path.
Chance to find real connection.
Opportunity to be more than their experiment.
Possibility of belonging somewhere, to someone.
Hope of discovering what pack bonds truly mean.
My body screams for air, but something deeper drives me forward.
The will to live.
The need to be free.
The desperate hope for more than mere survival.
My knuckles are bleeding now, crimson clouds blooming in the water with each strike. But pain is an old friend, one I've learned to embrace rather than fear.
This is now or never…a fighting chance for everything I’ve craved but never allowed myself to experience.
The shadows may be silent, but my own voice rings clear in my mind:
I am more than their creation.
More than their weapon.
More than their carefully crafted M.U.S.E.
Each punch resonates with truth:
I am Nyx Blackwood.
A survivor and warrior.
An Omega worthy of freedom.
A woman deserving of love…
The glass creaks ominously, promising imminent surrender to my assault. But it's not just glass I'm fighting anymore - it's everything they've tried to make me, everything they've tried to take away:
My identity, humanity, and future beyond their control.
Oxygen deprivation makes my vision blur, but I force my arm back for one final strike. I won't let them win. Can’t dare allow this to be the end.
Won't let their carefully constructed cage hold me anymore.
The final punch connects with devastating force, and the glass finally surrenders.
The sharp crack of shattering echoes through the water moments before the suction hits. I grab the edge of the opening instinctively as the current tries to pull me through, glass shards biting deep into my palm.
The pain is negligible compared to what awaits if I lose my grip – the dark tunnel above promises either escape or death, with no guarantee which we'll find.
Water rushes past me into the ventilation shaft, carrying Azurite and Luna with it.
Their gasps for air echo off metal walls as they're swept away. I twist to look over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of them as the current takes them – Azurite's arm locked around Luna's waist, keeping them together as they disappear into the darkness.
"NYX!" Azurite's voice bounces back to me, tinged with both relief and fear. "FOLLOW US!"
Their screams fade as they drop deeper into the tunnel system, leaving me torn between following their path to freedom and looking back for the one person still missing.
My heart nearly stops when I spot Riot.
She floats face-down in the remaining water, crimson clouds blooming around her still form. The sight hits me like a knife to the heart – this proud, fierce woman who refused to break, who chose sacrifice over surrender, now drifting like discarded debris.
"RIOT!" My voice cracks with desperation. "RIOT, PLEASE!"
My eyes already sting with tears while my heart is filled with the heaviness of dread.
I’m the culprit of her end…
The reason why she didn’t get the ending she whole heartedly deserved.
To prove her mother wrong…to find a pack to love…to fulfill the path destiny had for her.
This couldn’t be her end.
The water level continues to drop, but there might still be time.
If I can reach her, if I can get her breathing again...
The rational part of my mind screams that it's foolish — she tried to kill me, tried to make herself my enemy. But something deeper, away from that desperate burn of fight or flight, the more mundane thought process, refuses to accept letting her die.
I grip the ledge with my other hand, glass cutting deeper as I try to pull myself back through the opening. The current fights me, but I've survived worse.
Endured more.
I can save her.
I have to save her.
I'm coming, Riot. Just hold on.
Some instinct makes me look up, just for a moment.
My eyes widen as I see the massive metal sphere swinging toward the opening –— some kind of security measure designed to seal breaches in the system.
There's no time to think.
Not even seconds to plan.
My body moves on pure survival instinct, fingers releasing their grip seconds before the ball would have crushed them.
"NO! RIOT!"
The scream tears from my throat as the current catches me. I fight against it, trying to swim back, trying to reach her, but the force is too strong.
"RIOT! PLEASE!"
The last thing I can dare imagine is her still form, growing smaller as the water carries me away. Then darkness swallows everything as I hit the drop, the tunnel taking me down the same path as the others.
The shadows remain eerily silent as I fall, offering no comfort or guidance. There's only the rush of water, the screech of metal, and the knowledge that I've left someone behind to die.
I'm sorry, Riot.
I'm so sorry.
The tunnel becomes my whole world – cold water and colder metal, carrying me to whatever fate awaits at its end. But all I can see is her floating form, all I can think about is how she chose to sacrifice herself for us, how her final act was one of protection rather than destruction.
The water rushes faster now, stealing my breath, my choice to fight the dangerously fast current, and stealing any chance of going back to save her.
And in that moment, I understand something profound about what it means to be an Omega, to be more than just a weapon or experiment.
Sometimes the deepest pain comes not from what's done to us, but from what we're forced to leave behind…
A cruel truth I’ve had to now experience the hard way.
As the tunnel takes me deeper into unknown darkness, I carry that truth like an open wound – along with the memory of a fierce woman who taught me that sometimes the greatest strength lies not in survival, but in choosing how we face our end.
Goodbye, Riot.
I won't forget.
I'll make sure your sacrifice is worth it…
For the first time in a long time, I hope… pray… that Fate gives second chances and Riot could be given the opportunity to live…
To survive…
The drop comes suddenly, and I fall into whatever waits below, carrying the weight of one more loss in a life already too full of them.
All I can do is listen to my echoing scream.