The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
Conviction
I spent hours huddled against the alley wall, crying until red tinged the sky. My shoulder shook with sobs long after my tears ran dry, until, at last, I heard a soft rustling down the alley. The noise grew closer, developing into the sound of footsteps, but I was far too absorbed in my anguish to notice–or care.
It was happening again. The Glory Chasers had been the closest thing to family I'd ever experienced. We had traveled together, ate together, and even fought together, yet now they had done the same as everyone I'd ever loved. Even if it had been an inquisitor walking toward me, it wouldn't have mattered. Even death would be welcome, if it could quiet the raw ache in my heart.
Warm breath tickled my ear as a warm, wet nose pushed against my cheek. For a moment, I was disappointed by the tender touch, but the feeling washed away, replaced by another wave of tears.