She heaved as he pulled himself forward. It gained them a few inches. He tried again and she heaved as he eked out another couple of inches. "No more," he said. "No more. Can't." "It's just a little further," she lied. "Just another pull. Just one more." With a groan, he gave another pull as she heaved. "Please," she begged him. "Try again. One more time. For me." With her sobbing and coaxing, he pulled five more times. The water tugged at him and she clung to him. "Little one, Abaddon is dead," came the voice again into her head. "No!" she screamed. She jumped up and screamed it out loud, as if they'd hear and believe her from where they were. "No! He isn't dead! He's not dead and I'm not going to let him die. You know what? Fuck you! And I mean it! He's not dead, you bastard! You just shut up! You hear me? You shut the fuck up and don't speak to me! I'm getting him out of there, and then he can heal, and nothing is going to stop me!" She sank to her knees beside him, sobbing.
