I think the title says it all. If you know me, you know I definitely a writer who lives tradgey. And, yes, the title is a reference to the P! tD song I Write Sins, Not Tragedies.
Boom.
The sound shook Rythian to the bone. He knew what had made that sound; the nuke. He knew who was at the epicenter of that nuke; Zoey. He tried to convince himself she'd be fine, but that didn't stop him from rushing to the castle.
What he found there was not in fact a castle, but a crater. And lying there, limp, was the fiery redhead. Rythian rushed down to the center and scooped her up.
"Zoey...?" No response. He shook her desperately, "Zoey!" They was so much silence his voice echoed.
This was when he stopped to notice how injured Zoey was. Her face was covered in burnt black dust, and the black dust was sticking to the blood seeping from her forehead, causing it to turn a horrifying dark red colour. From the elbow down, her entire left arm was blown off, and it poured blood at a steady pace. Her blue eyes were opened wide in shock and terror, but the lively happiness had been drained from them.
She couldn't be dead, she could not be dead! Rythian gripped to her tightly and fight back tears. He could fix this, right? He had the power, right? He found himself doubting it, but nonetheless deciding to try. He climbed out of the crater as fast as he could carrying Zoey. As he got to the land he motioned quickly to Tee to follow and they took off.
She couldn't die.