Rex groaned.
His voice was way too painful to the human ears, it escaped its way out of his throat like a dying dog's last breath. His ribs trembled with each breath he took in.
With all the strength left in his broken body, he tried to stand.
I saw his arms wobble, his fingers clawing against the blood-soaked ground as he pushed himself up— only to collapse again.
Splash!
His face smacked against the pool of his own blood.
The world around me spun in his vision, a mixture blur of red and gray, and through his hazy consciousness, I watched him helplessly as he tried and failed, over and over again.
The men who took Lucy were already gone, leaving nothing behind.
Rex's lips parted.
"...Lucy…"
His voice was brittle.
A tightness seized my chest, squeezing the air out from my lungs. My throat ached.
It made me feel awful.
Powerless.
Useless.
I couldn't do a damn thing.
And then—
The rain came.
A single drop landed on my cheek—his cheek.
Then another.
And another.
