Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 504: Heavy Is The Crown

It had been a week.

Seven days since the tether I had created wrapped itself around the entire western hemisphere. Seven days since the last kiss, the last confession, the last moment of warmth. Seven days since I felt like I could breathe. Seven days since I was anything more than the Devil.

But if I thought it was shitty being the Devil in charge of Hell, being the Balance on Earth was so much worse. It really was no wonder I ran away from the throne and the crown. Hell, I’m tempted to do it again right now.

For the first time in a while, I felt like I was made of glass... and now I was breaking.

Sitting alone in the darkness of my bedroom, wrapped in a heavy blanket that did nothing to silence the noise, I slowly rocked back and forth. It was constant. Endless. A cacophony of emotions... things that I had never allowed myself to feel were coming at me all at once from a million different directions. Pain, lust, hunger, rage, fear, happiness... you name it, I was feeling it.

Some of it came from the demons who had pledged themselves to me willingly, who took the knee when I demanded it of them.

But most of it didn’t.

The ones who fought the tether screamed the loudest. Their resistance flared like static in my skull. It wasn’t just that I knew they existed—I felt them. The agony of rebellion, the terror of losing control, the fury of submission. It was all funneled into my skull like an open channel with no filter.

I hadn’t slept, not truly. Not since Daddy left my bed with a kiss on my forehead. Oh, sure, I have gotten really good at fake sleeping, but lying in bed, surrounded by me who where fast asleep, wasn’t helping with either my mood or my head.

For a single second, I closed my eyes, and the dreams of others poured into my mind like a streaming channel I never signed up for.

Not willing to go down that rabbit hole, I quickly opened my eyes, and the dreams disappeared like smoke, but the weight of the emotions was back and worse than ever.

"If I close my eyes, I see their dreams. If I open them, I hear their fears," I grumbled into the dark. "There is no silence. There is no me, only fucking Balance."

My voice cracked on the last word. If I thought it was bad living from wish to wish, it was so much worse finding out that I was an Original God.

I used to be someone... not I was nothing more than a function.

In the next room, separated by a single wall, my men argued. Great, just what I needed. A part of me believed that Hallow was making their voices travel on purpose, so I could know what they were saying when I wasn’t in the room.

"She just needs time," Beau said, trying to laugh it off. "Let her sleep it off, eat something sweet. She always gets cranky when she forgets to eat."

"She’s not cranky. She’s suffering," Eric snapped, and I could hear the shuffling of bodies. Knowing Eric, the others were trying to hold him back from laying Beau out for his comment. "Her vitals are off. Her nervous system is flooded with input. Her body is pushing beyond normal parameters."

"So fix it," Luca grumbled.

"I can’t fix a god, Luca," snarled Eric. "And just because I know what she is experiencing, doesn’t mean that there is a fix. Besides, Shiney-Boy Beau is the doctor, why doesn’t he do something besides telling us to let her sleep?"

"You think I’m not trying?" demanded Beau, and I could hear his voice taking on a deep, dark tone to it. "Do you really think that I don’t care what is going on with my woman? But I don’t know what to do!"

Tank growled low in his throat. "If you don’t know what to do, then get out of the way."

"She asked for space," Dante said coldly. "And none of you are giving it to her."

"I tried," Désiré muttered. "But she only pushed me away like I burned her."

"I’m not surprised," Ronan said. "We keep treating her like she’s ours. She’s not. She’s her own self."

I couldn’t hold back the snort as I listened to them bickering. Each one of them had their own tether inside of me, and I knew exactly what they were feeling. I could feel their love and their concern... but it was just one of many emotions.

Letting out a long sigh, I flung my blanket off to the side and stood up. Leaving my room, I entered the one where my ten men were standing, glaring at each other.

Clearing my throat, I stepped out of the darkness of the door frame, barefoot and hollow-eyed.

Every man froze as they turned to stare at me.

Returning their gaze, I looked at each of them, my mind not registering them as anything more than mine, and part of my pain. The worst part was that their names were distant memories instead of lovers, friends, protectors.

And then, quietly:

"I am not your pet project. I am not your princess. I am not your possession." My voice was calm, but it was the kind of calm that followed earthquakes. "If you want a queen, then fucking act like my kings—or get out of my goddamn way."

No one breathed; they were well aware that I was not stable at the moment.

When Désiré took a hesitant step forward, I quickly held up my hand. "Don’t," I said, flinching slightly. "You’re too loud. You’re all too loud."

Spinning around, I stepped out of the room, wishing that I were anywhere else but there.

I didn’t know where I landed. It was probably somewhere far from Hallow. A cliffside, maybe. A jagged ledge of stone over a sea of shadow, the stars too distant to matter. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Here, there were no souls crying out.

Here, there was no pressure.

Here, I was completely alone.

And for the first time in a week, I could breathe.

Sinking down to the ground, I sat, legs pulled to my chest, arms wrapped tight, and stared into the dark.

The silence wasn’t comforting, but it was merciful.

The wind kissed my face. Cold. Sharp. Honest.

Minutes passed. Or hours. Or days. Time didn’t work right here, but I wasn’t in a rush to return home. However, there really was no rest for the wicked.

Out of the darkness came a set of footsteps, but I ignored them, hoping that they would go away. I didn’t want comfort, I didn’t want a pat on my head. I wanted help...

I needed them to stop thinking sex would fix her. That attention would soothe her. That their presence alone was enough.

It wasn’t.

The crown was too heavy, and I was being pulled under.