Page 92 of Pulse Zero
For a second, I just lie there. Breathing. Or, well, trying to breathe. It still doesn’t feel right. My lungs hitch like they’re expecting something to fill them that isn’t air, but only oxygen and silence presses in.
And then…
It hits. All of it. All at once.
He’s not dead. He’s alive. He has been for seven fucking years and never bothered to have the fucking courtesy to let me know. And here I had let myself believe that he would’ve actually run away with me back then. Of course he wouldn’t have.
I was a fucking idiot.
My mom is three thousand miles away. My uncle betrayed me. The man I had let myself get obsessed with despises me because of…okay, quite possibly the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my entire fucking life.
But I’m not quite sure I deserved to be fuckingtorturedfor it.
I didn’tknow. I didn’t know I was dooming dozens of people to their deaths.
Fuck, I’m sorry.
And then he…
“Fuck.”
My hand curls against the floor as the dam breaks wide open, a crack splits down my chest, and it all comes spilling out until I’m crying. Not the quiet, dignified kind either. It’s messy, ugly. The kind that makes your whole body shake like it’s trying to eject something from your system and can’t manage it.
I press my forehead against the floor, breath stuttering, glasses smudging, shoulders trembling as I lie here and sob.
“Fuck,” I say again, weaker this time.
Then I hear footsteps. Tiny ones, soft and familiar.
Felix appears like a small, judgmental guardian angel, weaving immediately into my space. He nudges his head under my hand, purring like a chainsaw.
“Hey,” I choke out. “You’re not supposed to see me like this.”
No one is, not even the damn cat.
He ignores me, obviously. He climbs onto my back like I’m a piece of furniture and presses his entire body weight against me, purring louder. Some of the tension inside me immediately eases.
I let out a shaky, wet laugh onto the floor. “Thanks for the emotional support.”
Reaching above me, my fingers curl into his fur, grounding myself in something real, somethingnormal. He’s warm and solid and alive. Not shadows. Not…him. Just a cat who probably thinks I’m being overdramatic.
It takes a while before all the ugly sobbing finally slows,long enough that my throat feels even more raw and my head is pounding. Eventually, I manage to push myself upright, using the wall for support as the room tilts around me.
“Okay,” I say hoarsely. “Okay, we’re good now. All better. We’re thriving.”
Felix meows like he doesn’t believe me.
“Way to be supportive.”
I stumble into the kitchen, grabbing onto the counter when my balance wobbles again. My gaze drifts down, and I freeze.
His food bowl is half full.
I know I didn’t fill it the day I was taken.
“Okay,” I whisper as a slow, cold awareness creeps up my spine. “That’s…super cool.”
Someone was really coming here to take care of my cat?
