[ The feed begins with Drusilla off screen, just her disembodied voice carrying through a dark room to the datapad. She’s only just woken up from
this dream, flinging herself, along with the datapad, to the floor. ]
They died inside me, all of them. I felt them. Screaming and screaming, over and over again. Suffocated. Crushed. Clawing at my head from the inside, pushing at my ribs, dragging me with them, get them out!
[ The last part is almost a scream, screeched, and there’s the sound of hands slapping on the floor. There’s a long, empty pause before she begins again, tone empty and numb. ]
The silence is worse. Frozen and alone and cut off. Can’t hear the stars. They’re dead and so are we. There’s nothing left to feel. He won’t be making it better, will he? There’s no bandage for this tear.
[ Pale fingers grip the datapad, dragging it over to her, the device giving a shrill screech of metal on metal as it’s pulled across the floor. She brings it close to her face, so the video is practically focused on her eyes alone. The voice comes out as a deep, hoarse whisper, but paced. Purposeful. ]
“We’ve won.”