Heron Lake Plateau feeling my way through the darkness

Time moved so slowly here. Sometimes it had been fast — sometimes when he closed his eyes, hours would've gone by. Sometimes days. Sometimes it was so dark he could've sworn it was night time — but since waking up the last time, things had slowed to a crawl. He just wanted to feel better; to listen to the laughter of his family by the lake, to sit at the summit of the Caldera with Raven and her kids again — but he remembered, sharply, the sound of the distorted voice screaming, Bastard, bastard bastard —

Screech? The voice then said; transitioning with ease from the chaos to that quiet, secret sound. It was familiar. He didn't have the energy to move but he tried to, straining to adjust himself in the dark of his would-be grave, responding more to the presence of the sound than the name uttered. He was not Screech. But Screech's body moved, and Screech's eye drifted to the face of the fiery girl and watched her without really focusing.

Are.. are you.. He wanted to speak, and the first thought that came to his mind was, Dead, you're dead, you're dead, you're dead, I saw you — but as he finally opened the sandpaper-dry mouth parts, he could only wheeze and sit there.