Cómo Fue

Link to article: Cómo Fue.

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⚠️ **Content warning:** Visceral depiction of someone vomitting.
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Your name is Jay Everwood, and your world has just ended for the second time.

You are holed up in your apartment, the curtains drawn down to keep the **SUN**’s rays from reaching inside of it. You have a bowl of half-eaten rice clutched tightly in your hands.

You cannot bring yourself to look down at it. Every time you do, the bile threatens to rise back up to the surface and overwhelm you.

You do not remember how long it has been since the **SUN** changed, since Armageddon came to 99.999999% of the population and turned them into those… **THINGS**.

You and Ilse were separated by an entire country when it happened. Work was work, and you both knew that. But nevertheless, you kept in touch.

A long distance relationship was still a relationship, and better than nothing.

But you wish you could have been at Site 43 with them, when it all went **RED RED RED**--

You cannot take it any more; the bile is up to your uvula. You drop the bowl onto the floor, not caring as it shatters into a million pieces, scattering rice and porcelain shards everywhere onto the tiling.

You just barely reach the bathroom and its toilet before it starts to come out. All that half-digested food and stress and panic and anxiety and fear ejected into the bowl as you shudder and heave and cry and cry and cry and

**//jaaaaay…//**

You freeze, your forehead damp with sweat and your mouth caked with vomit.

That couldn’t…

No.

No no, you had to be just hearing things.

A stress-induced hallucination.

Yeah.

Yeah, that was it.

You cough a few more times. It seems like it’s done now.

You stand, shakily, trying to ignore the rancid stench of the bile you just spewed as you flush it down and make your way to the mirror.

Your gaze is more tired than usual, the bags underneath your eyes uncountable in both amounts and shades. Remnants of tear streaks run down your cheeks, glistening in the flickering fluorescent light.

Grimacing as you look at your lips, you take a paper towel and wipe off the remaining chunks off, before throwing it into the bin nearby.

You sigh, and push the toilet lid away from you. It lands against the brim with a loud THUNK, which makes you wince.

You stand there, silent, the hairs standing up on your arms, waiting for some sort of reaction.

…

…

…

Nothing.

You breathe out a breath you did not even realize you were holding.

You slump down onto the toilet seat, suddenly feeling exhausted.

You simply… stare up at the ceiling for a few moments after that, not wanting to do anything. Not now, or ever again.

…

Your hand twitches by your side, reaching towards your left pocket.

You don’t want to do this.

You don’t want that knife to stab you in the gut once again.

But the phone is in your hand before can stop yourself.

You pull it up.

You tap out the pass code to unlock it.

And you’re greeted with the same sight that greeted you just minutes ago.

Your last messages with Ilse.






[[div style="display: block; margin: auto; align: center; border: dashed 1px #444444; width: 50%; padding:10px"]]

[[>]]
Ilse <3
//I’m taking a risk, Jay. It’s one I’ll probably regret, but I can’t just sit in this Site and be in the dark forever.//
[[/>]]

Me
//ilse you cant. i told you what it did to my neighbors.//

[[>]]
Ilse <3
//I don’t care, Jay. I didn’t spend 80 years in the Chamber just to keep myself ignorant. I need to at least see what it’s like out there, see if my decades of knowledge can’t figure something out that others were unable to.//

Ilse <3
//Look. I’ll wear layers, like the file instructed us to do. But I have to know. I NEED to know.//
[[/>]]

Me
//promise?//

[[>]]
Ilse <3
//I promise. I’m not an idiot. You of all people should know that.//
[[/>]]

Me
//ok//

Me
//be safe//

Me
//i love u//

[[>]]
Ilse <3
//I love you too, you big dork.//
[[/>]]
[[/div]]




You try to stop yourself from scrolling down further into the text messages.

You fail.

And it all comes flooding back.






[[div style="display: block; margin: auto; align: center; border: dashed 1px #444444; width: 50%; padding:10px"]]

[[>]]
Ilse <3
//jay//
[[/>]]

[[>]]
Ilse <3
//its a beautiful day outside//
[[/>]]

[[>]]
Ilse <3
//come out//
[[/>]]

[[>]]
Ilse <3
//come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out come out//
[[/>]]
[[/div]]

There were more messages she sent, undoubtedly, but that was as much as you could stomach before you blocked her number and ended up where you are now.

You feel the bile coming back.

You throw your phone, and it shatters against the bathroom wall in a shower of sparks and useless components onto the floor.

You curl up into a ball against the toilet seat, and let the 

tears

come 

back

in

full

force.

You don’t know how long you stay like that.

Minutes.

Hours.

Days?

But then you hear it.

Wet, fleshy slaps against the front door of your apartment. **THOSE THINGS** making a twisted mockery out of something so simple as knocking.

You hear the **GROANS**, the **CRYING**, the **MOANS OF ECSTASY**, the **VOICES**. 

**//jaaaaaay…//**

Your heart drops again. You know you did not hallucinate it that time.

Mixed among the voices of your neighbors, your civilian friends, your family…

It’s her, **BUT NOT**.

**//please come out, jaaaaay…//**

**//it’s so beautiful outside…//**

**//i was wrong to try and stop the rays…//**

**//i’ve learned so much…//**

The tears come out harder, and you shudder in your position as the THING THAT WAS ILSE continues talking, pleading for you to come out into the SUNSHINE…

You shut your eyes, begging whatever gods are still around that they’ll leave eventually.

You hear faint humming.

Your blood turns to ice.

It gets louder.

There's no way for you to not recognize the tune.

No

No no no no no

This couldn’t be happening.

“//Cómo Fue//”, by Benny Moré. The song you had sung to her that night.

You find yourself on your feet, shuffling towards the front door as **SHE** continues to hum.

You find yourself, almost reflexively, joining her.

The other voices join in as well.

It becomes a choir.

You feel fresh tears run down your face as you reach the crescendo.

The humming stops.

So does your heart, for a moment.

**//come outside jay//**

**//it’s okay//**

**//we can be together//**

You shake your head, the tears still beading in your eyes. **THAT** is not **HER**.

**IT** can’t be **HER**.

But your hand still reaches for the door handle.

It turns.



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|author=AlienSpaceBat]]
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