The Next Morning
Satou's eyes opened slowly, consciousness returning like a gentle tide rather than the violent shock of his previous awakening. The room was dark save for the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow.
He was home. In his bed. Safe.
The familiar weight on his chest told him he wasn't alone. Lyra was curled against his right side, her head resting on his shoulder, one arm draped possessively across his torso. Jessica mirrored her on his left, her breathing deep and even, her face peaceful in sleep.
Satou smiled despite himself, feeling warmth spread through his chest at the sight of them. They looked so peaceful. So alive. So beautifully, wonderfully real.
Then the memories hit him like a physical blow.
Jessica's screams as the living walls consumed her, flesh pulling her apart piece by piece while he stood frozen, unable to help.
