I try to breathe, that lone survival instinct kicking in as I take the beating, but it’s getting harder and harder. Sobs rack through my body as my knees finally give out. The man holding me can’t keep my weight and I fall to the ground. I breathe, pulling in a full breath of air that only makes me want to throw up. Everything hurts.
There is a knocking sound, I think, maybe. Maybe it’s just my knees hitting the floor too hard. Maybe it’s my heart breaking from my chest because it is pounding so hard I am scared it’s going to run away and leave me behind with these monsters.
A kick lands on my back and I whimper. I am going to die. I am actually going to die. My knees draw up and my arms cover my face. The sounds of soft grunting and my choked whimpers are a cacophony of how much of a nightmare my life is. I have done nothing of value, nothing of interest. There won’t be photos at my funeral, except maybe one from the seaside holiday three years ago. Would anyone even go to my funeral?
There’s a flash, and then a hand is shoved into my damp hair.
“Smile for me, darlin’.”
Another flash. I can barely see. I’ve taken at least one hit to the face and I am not sure if my vision is gone because my eyes are starting to swell or if it is because of something else. There is blood in my mouth and I am going to die alone.
“Remember, this is what happens when you go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, darlin’. Leave, or he will keep reminding you again and again until you learn your lesson.”
The whispered words send a chill down my aching spine. The knocking is still there. My heart is trying to escape. I am living someone else’s life, their nightmare. I am a nobody. I know I am nothing important. My life is the same grey pattern, day in and day out. Nothing about this makes sense. When they release my hair, I crumble back onto the floor with a whimper.
I can’t move.
I can’t see.
I am going to die, but I don’t want it to be tonight.
The room suddenly floods with light. My head is split in two about what it believes. Is it the light at the end of the tunnel or simply the door opening? I don’t know what I want it to be any more.
There is surprised noise, voices speaking, and then utter silence again. I guess it was just the door, then. I am going to live, at least for a few more minutes.
Something warm wraps around my trembling body and I try to shake it off. A whimper gets trapped in my throat. I can’t take another hit. I can’t. Please stop.
“Sleep now, Joanna.”
The warmth lifts me and I am swimming in honey, floating into oblivion.
8
Augustine
0 days
Iam going to burn these wasterals and dance upon their ashes until their ancestors feel the rage coursing through my body. The desecration of their mortal forms will be noted in history, and for eternity I will torment their stored souls until they feel nothing but fear so I can feast upon them again and again. The scene that unfolded before my eyes as they opened that door will haunt me. I had expected Joanna, thought maybe she had tripped in the dark or dropped something. The sweat on their brow and the bored expressions on their faces twisted to shock, anger, and terror. How I feasted on that terror as my sands sucked their souls from their bodies with a greedy hunger. Their lifeless husks discarded like trash in the hallway. There was no enjoyment when I saw my mate crumble on the floor.
Joanna’s broken form lay there as if she were simply asleep. Her body curled up on papers and files that soaked up water and blood. Her laboured breath only made me wish I could kill those scoundrels all over again. That I could do unto them as they have done onto my darling. There was no aura around her, nothing I could sense to tell me she was alright. With clawed hands, I lifted her into my arms. My chest still aches with the weak sounds she made.
I am a fool for ever letting her out of my sight.
Forcing sleep upon her is the easiest option; it is the only thing I can think to do. She cannot see me yet, not when the bond is unfinished. I kick the husks of those men into the office and shut the door behind us. It is a problem for others to deal with them. I do not care what happens to anyone except for my darling, my human. She is in need, and I must get her out of here to safety. I race down the halls and head for the tunnel entrance. The room I found Joanna in, is not facing the street. We need to get to the front half of the building to gain access to the tunnels that run under the city.
The tunnel system is used mainly by the more unruly of us. Humans who enter these systems are never allowed out. They will have seen too much, heard too much. Their scent alone upsets the delicate balance of our coexisting ecosystems. But revealing Joanna to the monsters that lurk beneath the city is the least of my worries. Soon enough, she will be just as much a part of it as I am. Then, when our bond is solidified, I can tell her everything and anything she wishes to know.
I kick in the last door to my left, a grunt pressing through my lips as Joanna is jostled in my arms. I cannot bring myself to put her down. Not when we are so close to completing the bond, not when she is so vulnerable. I cannot feel anything from her, no emotions. Her dreams are empty and her subconscious is floating in an ocean of nothingness.
This room is an absolutely disgusting mess of shelves overflowing with broken computers, printers, and boxes. All things that could have been easily recycled and would not be blocking my way to the tunnel. It is ridiculous, but humans are disgusting, vile little creatures who deserve what they get, except mine.
Joanna does not make a sound when I set her down on a desk. It creaks under her but stays intact. I cannot recall if this silence from her is good or not. It has not mattered whether a physical injury could permanently damage them. My feeding does not cause physical damage usually. I never had the taste for blood or violence. It is a flavour I left to the lessers.
Except now. For her, I will tear anyone limb from limb.
Carelessly, I shove the useless machinery away until I can get to the wall I need. It appears the tunnel was bricked over, but it should still be fine. Forcing sand into my left fist, I punch the grey-painted stones again and again. The rage I had only just begun to feel in control of resurfaces. My body changes, growing, becoming the vicious beast I keep under lock and key at all times. Spines prick through my damp jacket, ruining the fine wool, but I cannot remove the taste of their fear from my senses, how good it felt to feed on it until there was nothing left. Their very souls were absorbed into my sands.
I am shaking by the time I have created a space ample enough for us to fit through. My movements are jerky, spines at my back rattling, sand pulsating throughout my being, tainting my veins and searching for more. I reach out for Joanna, needing her desperately back in my arms, but when I see the claws, the glittering black of my hands, moving toward her I have to stop. I cannot touch her like this. I cannot even feel her. She could be dead already.
