Adam
Istir with the sunrise like I always do, but Eve’s warmth in my arms is the reason I really wake up. I don’t want to sleep any more than I have to, not when I get to spend my waking hours with her.
“Morning,” I murmur softly into her hair, feeling her stirring as she slowly comes to.
She answers in a low grumble before opening her eyes, pretending to be grumpy for no more than a second before she gives me a sleepy smile.
I smile right back, kissing the top of her head.
The world is silent, but it’s no longer dreadful. We finally managed to find some comfort in it. I wake her up every sunrise so she’ll watch it with me.
When spring comes around again, I craft a swing on the toughest branch of the big oak tree in the yard.
“Will it hold me?” she calls out from the open kitchen window, a grin on her lips.
“You from two months ago, for sure,” I call back. “Now, maybe not.”
I wipe my hands on my jeans and head inside to face her mock offense, but I can’t take her seriously, not with the look of utter joy on her beaming face.
“I love you,” I say into her lips between kissing them.
“I love you, too.” She kisses me back before taking my hand and leading me to the sofa. “Now come here for some lazing around. We’re getting tired watching you work.”
I can never say no to her. Especially not when she’s like this.
I sprawl back on the couch, leaning into the corner which has grown worn to accommodate me, and welcome her as she settles into my arms. I wrap my hands around her, caressing her stomach.
“Have you been thinking?” she asks, and I know exactly what she’s referring to.
“I have.” I sigh, nuzzling her hair. “It really shouldn’t be this hard, but I can’t come up with anything.”
“I mean, if we’re going by tradition here, it should be—”
A knock disrupts her words.
I freeze.
She lifts herself from my arms. “Did I just hear a—”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
One, two, three stern raps against wood.
“Adam.” Fear colors her voice.
“Stay behind me.” I stand to grab my gun from where I left it, but I never make it.
The gun isn’t there.
Neither is the table.
Black spots are all that’s left in their stead.
“Adam.”
The terror in which she says my name has me turning instantly.
The sofa disappears beneath her. More spots blur in my field of vision, turning to gaping blotches, as our living room melts away, leaving only black in its stead.
“What’s happening?” Her hands are cradling her stomach. “Oh, god.”
Everything is turning black. The darkness is reaching her, eating up her ankles.
“Eve—” I try to reach her, but I can’t, because my fingers fade to nothing. “Eve!”
She screams, and that’s the last thing I hear before the only person I’ve ever loved dissipates right in front of me.
And then the darkness closes in.
TO BE CONTINUED