116. Seb
SEB
Let me die, he thought, uncharitably, at whoever was shaking him.
Every millimeter of movement was agony. His spine was a shattered highway of pain. They called him again, and he realized, dimly, it was Lily.
Lily.
Lily.
She was the only thing that could have called him back from the underworld. He’d longed for oblivion before, and it was here, even without him asking, except now he didn’t want it. The irony.
Seb clung to the thread of her voice and clawed his way back to the edge of consciousness. He tried to sit up, and the pain radiated, excruciating, all the way to his toes and his skull. Dimly, he realized this meant he probably wasn’t paralyzed.
He opened his eyes. Lily’s face swam above his. Even in the rain he could tell she was crying, because one of the raindrops that hit his face and rolled into the corner of his mouth was hot and tasted like the sea.