When old lives die

by LouiseWolff

She's skin stretched over steel. Even her eyes, once so eager and alive, are now cold and hard. She's all metal. Nicked, scratched, bent and broken steel, mechanic. She's alive till the sun sets, dead when the moon rises. (Sam's musings post-Yamatai.)

10. Screams

At first, she slept like the dead.

Lately her screaming wakes me. It's not always my name, and it's not always English.

I've been having nightmares since the first day we left that cursed place. Hell, I had nightmares when I was still on the island. But Lara, she always seemed so calm while asleep. Not a good calm, a calm like there was nothing left of her that could move, that could be.

Somehow her screaming gives me hope, because it means she feels again, because it means she is alive.

Sometimes I go to her when it happens, sometimes she comes to me, a shivering mess moving with little jerks, like memories are thudding into her limbs like arrows, making her bleed tears and screams and re-opening scars.

Sometimes I just listen, feeling my own pain press against my throat, fighting to get out.

And it might just be me, but her screams always seem softer when I'm there.