"John!"

From far down the dark, jagged rock shaft, he'd heard his name chasing after him, a broken panic in his friend's voice.

"John!"

He stopped suddenly with a jarring thud, impossibly far down, and his world closed in with an eclipsing darkness.

A strangled sob reached him from high above; the sound of despair. He'd heard it before, in Afghanistan; the utter devastation of losing a comrade-in-arms. He wanted to cry out, to say he was still alive, though for how long was another question altogether. Already, his thoughts were slowing and a steady stream of blood was pouring down his face. He tried to form the words, but there was simply no breath left in his body. He sent a jumble of thoughts up to the ledge high above, willing his friend to know everything.

Remember me. Remember to eat. You could not have been prepared for this. This was not your fault. Remember I loved you, and use that when you don't love yourself.

Suddenly, the walls of the narrow crevasse rang with a blood-chilling, utterly phantasmagoric, inhuman cry. It was the lone howl of a wolf on a moor and the scream of a mortally wounded jungle cat mixed in one horrific sound. The echoes continued to reverberate through the abyss and shudder through his chest, shredding his insides and threatening to finally still his stuttering heart.

With his last conscious thoughts, he mourned for his friend. He knew what animal had made that sound. He'd always suspected its existence, and now it was not only here, it was loose. He should feel pity for the prey, really. But he didn't have the strength. A most unbecoming smile tugged at his lips as he lapsed fully out of conscious thought.

You wanted his heart. Now look upon its absence, you smug shit.
Look upon Hell, and pray that God may have mercy on your soul.