“Not so fucking tough now, are you?” Clark asked as he twisted the knife inside him.

“No!” I shouted.

He pulled the knife out of Daniels, who fell back on the floor, holding his stomach. I wanted to kill Clark and rip his head off, but I couldn’t just rush at him while he had a knife, not unless I wanted to end up like Daniels.

By then, Boden had come into my room, responding to the commotion.

“Clark has a knife, and he stabbed Daniels!” I yelled at him.

“You stupid bitch.” Clark shook his head, and then he turned and ran out of the bathroom. He thrust the knife at Boden, attempting to cut him, but he only succeeded in knocking Boden down. Afraid of a man to man fight, Clark raced out of the room, but Boden got up and chased after him.

“Daniels!” I fell to my knees next to him, and I put my hands over his stomach, trying to keep the blood in, but it pumped hot and fast through my fingers. “Oh my god, Daniels, what should I do?”

“You’re doing it,” he said, his voice tight “Just put pressure on it, and stay with me.”

“But how do I fix this?” I asked. “How do I stop this?”

“You don’t.” He winced, then he put his hand over mine, holding it. “Listen, Remy, I’m sorry about what I did to you and what happened to your brother.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” I shook my head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I understand why you did it. You did the best you could.”

“I didn’t,” he insisted. “I shouldn’t have let them cut you up like that. You’re a person, a strong, brave person, and they had no right to treat you like that.”

“It doesn’t matter, Daniels. It’s over, and I’m okay. I just need to know what to do to take care of you.”

“You can’t.” He had tears in his eyes, and he smiled. “I’m losing so much blood. But it’s okay.”

“How is this okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” He laughed and swallowed back tears. “I’m fucking dying, and it’s not okay. But shit happens, you get over it, and you move on.”

“Daniels, please.” By now, tears were streaming down my cheeks. “I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why’d you have go and be a hero?” I asked. “You didn’t need to do that. You didn’t need to protect me.”

“I did,” Daniels said gravely. “You’ve saved my life, and I owe you so much. I couldn’t let another person hurt you. Not anymore.”

“Daniels.” I let out a sob. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just stay with me,” he said. “It shouldn’t be much longer.”

And it wasn’t. He squeezed my hand and held onto me for as long as he could. Then he closed his eyes, and his grip loosened on mine.

“Daniels,” I said. “Daniels?” But he didn’t move. “Daniels!”

And then I lost it. I fell back, leaning against the wall behind me, and I held my hands out in front of me. They were covered in his blood, still warm on my skin, and they trembled.

I screamed. I don’t know why exactly, but there was nothing else I could do. Crying wasn’t enough. There was so much anger and frustration and hurt and I just couldn’t get it out, and I couldn’t live with it inside me.

I didn’t know if I could even live with what had happened to Daniels. That shouldn’t have happened. Not like that. Not after everything he’d done and tried to do for me. He shouldn’t have been killed by a person, by someone I let join us. And he never should’ve died protecting me.

“Fuck!” I shouted and hit myself in the thigh. “Dammit!”

“Remy?” Boden was back, and he came into the bathroom, kneeling down beside me. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s dead!” I yelled. “He’s dead, and it’s my fault!”

“No, Remy, it’s not.” Boden put his arm around me and started pulling me out of the bathroom, away from Daniels’ body.

“It is. Everything’s my fault.” I was sobbing, and I couldn’t stop.

I could barely even walk. Boden practically had to carry me over to the bed. I sat down at the edge, and he crouched in front of me, looking up at me. I cried so hard my whole body was shaking, and it hurt everything inside me.

Serg came to check on us, but Boden sent him back to stay with Max and Stella.

When I finally calmed down enough that I could speak, I was still trembling horribly, and I wanted to throw up. Boden went into the bathroom and soaked a towel in water, then came out and washed the blood off my hands and arms.

“Did you get Clark?” I asked, sniffling.

“Sorta,” Boden said. “A zombie got him. Tore him up good. Then Ripley got the zombie. So Clark’s dead, and we’re safe.”

“Good.”

“What happened?” Boden asked. I shook my head. “Was…” He paused. “Did Clark to try to do something … to you?”

“Yeah,” I said thickly.

“Did he …” Boden swallowed, choosing his words carefully. “Did Clark … succeed?”

I shook my head, just once. “No. Daniels came in, and then …”

“And then Clark got him,” Boden finished for me.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not your fault, Remy.” He’d set aside the towel, and he took my hands in his, staring up at me, but I just stared off in space.

“It feels like my fault.” I took a deep breath. “Everything feels like my fault.”

“But it’s not.”

I looked down at my lap, struggling to keep fresh tears back. The cut on my neck stung, but I barely noticed it. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Boden.”

“Do what?” Boden asked.

“Live.” I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just … it’s so hard, and it doesn’t get better. Every day is more exhausting than the last, and this horrible, senseless shit keeps happening. I can’t…”

“You can,” Boden insisted. “You can and you will. This is just a really, really bad day. But you’re stronger and better than this. You can overcome anything.”