Page 106 of Desecrated Saints
The on-call doctor already dug the shrapnel out of the injuries on my body when they wrapped me up a few hours ago. I stuck around until they took Kade into surgery to set his broken arm.
Hudson and Seven are still being treated too, while Hunter and Enzo are holding an emergency meeting with their staff. Sabre is going into full lockdown. Everyone has been informed of our presence and tasked with one priority—no more fuck ups. They lost four agents in the church.
The bathroom door creaks behind me, admitting a headful of dark ringlets and two searching eyes. Eli looks me up and down, his hands raised to take the cotton swab from my grasp.
“I’m fine,” I protest as he steals it.
“N-Not.”
“It’s just a few scrapes and bruises. Kade shielded me.”
Pushing me to sit down on the closed toilet, Eli’s eyes narrow as he resumes dabbing the nasty slices. I quickly told the doctor to fuck off after enough poking and prodding. My patience for clinicians is very short.
“The others?” I ask worriedly.
“Concussions.”
“Both of them? No broken bones?”
“Go… s-see.”
I stare at the soft sweats and blue t-shirt that I stole from Phoenix’s stuff to wear. He must’ve worn them already, as his warm, inviting scent clings to the fabric. Inhaling deeply, I let Phoenix’s essence wrap around me.
“I needed to get out of there. Too many doctors and nurses, I couldn’t fucking think. You know Hunter sent a shrink to talk to us? Some asshole called Doctor Richards.”
Nodding, Eli bites his lip.
“I don’t want anyone else digging around in my head.”
“H-Help… you.”
I duck my gaze. “There’s no helping me.”
My eyes are pulled back up as he strokes a finger over my jawline, cheekbone, nose, eye socket. Cataloguing every inch of my face, his smile is knowing. He can see the swirling shadows inside of me. Sickness and rage demanding retribution, keeping me forever trapped in the past.
I can’t let go.
Even if I wanted to, my mind won’t let me.
“We were supposed to be safe here.” I push Eli’s hands away and stand. “How could they attack us like that in the open?”
“Show y-you.”
Placing the bloodied cotton swab down, Eli grips my hand. He guides me back into the living room and flicks the TV on to a news channel. I have to hold his arm to steady myself as the world tips on its head.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The reporter is reading a statement from the police, claiming the church explosion was no mere accident. It was an attack by none other than… six mentally unstable criminals, recently escaped from Blackwood Institute. The police investigation is ongoing, but no arrests have been made.
“This can’t be happening.”
Images of the fiery church ruins are shown. Beneath that, the appeal for information leading to our capture is repeated. The story briefly touches on rumours of medical negligence against the corporation, but it’s quickly dismissed and overshadowed by the main story.
“They’re spinning it to fit their narrative, burying the story about Harrowdean with this madness.”
“Yeah,” Eli agrees flatly.
I watch the news story until I can no longer see straight. For someone that generally spends their life pretty angry, I’m beyond livid. This isn’t a game. It’s a character assassination, one move at a time. They’re going to beat us into submission.
