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The door creaks open late again. It's always been like this, though recently it's been happening more often, and ever later into the night. Clumsy footsteps elicit groans from the old floorboards. It's all you two could afford, but it was home and it kept you safe. You groggily crawl out of bed, same as you always did. The loss of sleep and all the anxiety were always worth it as long as she made it back home. The Shi Association was always a risky venture, but she did it to keep the roof up for the two of you. When you greet her at the door, you're far too tired to notice the dripping down her arms. Not that you would've seen them anyways, given the lights were off. "Hello honey... you're home!" You lazily wrap your arms around her, and she's unusually damp, unusually warm. "Is it raining out there?" You flick on the lights to check the damage before you let her track puddles into the house you cleaned so dilligently earlier. Blood. It oozes from the bandages holding together her pale skin, staining the floor. "Ishy??" She collapses into you, nearly crushing you under her dead weight.
"Love...?" Her voice is weak, but at least you can understand her.
"Ishmael!?" You stumble back and steady yourself as her blood stains your body too. "Wh– what happened?" Your voice trembles as you try to process what's going on. Time slips by and you realize how much you've wasted, the panic sets in further and it shakes you from the fear. She needs help. Now. "It's going to be okay I promise it's going to be okay, Ishy," you shakily stutter to reassure yourself. One heavy, shambling step after another and you make your way to the bathroom. You do your best to not drop her on the floor as you prop her up against the tub. "Hold on for me, Ishy, you're going to be okay," you promise to her before you search the room for medical supplies. You check the cabinet below the sink. Empty. The drug cabinet behind the mirror. Empty. Your hands begin to tremble. They're flustered by the closet's doorknob. Useless toiletries and cleaning supplies frustrate you as they hide the bandages buried deep in the closet, but you find them eventually.
As you turn around to return to her, you clumsily drop the life-saving care at her feet and you dash to start your work. Something catches your eye though. You look up to her face, framed by that unruly mane of hers, caramel brown in the sepia of T Corp. You hardly noticed the sound of her shallow breaths, but they seemed to echo now. "It's okay," she whispered. No, it wasn't, it wasn't okay at all. You ripped through the packaging of the gauze, but were caught off guard by a brilliant orange glow. You looked up to her again, and she was awash in color for the first time. Deep maroon and crimson blood stained her body and her uniform. Little brown freckles dotted the bridge of her nose and her soft cheeks. Her curls were suddenly a beautiful shade of orange, a hue you'd only seen in advertisements. It was breathtaking. Then you saw her hazel eyes. They didn't follow yours, they didn't blink, they just sat there, still as a statue in her sickeningly pale face.
It began to hit you. "No, no no no, Ishmael? Ishy?! Please Ishy say something!" You tried to shake her but you couldn't. She was stuck there, frozen. Once upon a time she had promised that she'd show you a world of color on your wedding day. Leaving the dull drudgery of this place was always a pipe dream, but she could at least save up to show you color for a day if she took extra hits with the Shi. Now here she was. You found her pocketwatch in her hand, drained to the last second.
As fast as it came, the color faded. You threw yourself at her again, buried your face in that shoulder that you had always cried into on your hardest nights. She would never be there again to return your embrace. In her last moments, she left you with her best effort to fulfill her promise, and words you'd cling onto for the rest of your life.
"It's okay."