29. Day 82 - Caterina
I’m floating.
Bemused, I stare down at myself, at my own body lying on the bed below. My eyes are open, wide and dark and staring, pupils blown.
When I blink, I’m back inside my own body. My hands reach up, patting myself down.
Strange.
“Tentazione.”
Dante looks tired. He leans down, his lips brushing against mine. “Are you feeling better?”
Frowning, I push myself up onto my elbows. “I – I think so.”
“Good.” He strides over to the wardrobe, undoing his shirt. “Are you well enough for the party?”
“What party?”
His face stretches, morphing into something unrecognizable. Something horrific.
And his mouth spreads wide, sharp teeth and fangs as he walks towards me.
I scramble back against the bedding as his limbs stretch, morph—
“You’re proving to be very disappointing, wife.”
I’m screaming. But there’s no sound, nothing except a roaring that echoes in my head, bouncing and growing until it snaps, breaks into pieces of ash that land on my face, my arms.
Bea. I stare at her.
“You never deserved her.” Her face splits, twisting and sneering and burning. “We did. It was your fault, Caterina.”
“I’m sorry.” Wetness on my face. “I’m so sorry, Bea.”
Pepe crawls across the ground towards me, the words broken and guttural. “Your fault.”
And there are others, too. Other voices, all of them fighting for space inside my head. Ripping my soul to pieces.
***
Something is wrong with me.
I can’t open my eyes. Can’t lift my hands.
People are talking around me, muttering.
“…too much.” I recognise that voice, nasally and sharp, and try to twist away from it. “Bring her out of it.”
Reed.
“You’re lucky she’s not dead. There could be long-term effects, but we won’t know yet.”
“You created the dosage.” Salvatore. He sounds angry. “Bring her around, then.”
Stefano.
I try to form the words, but only a mumble comes out, jumbled letters that sound nothing like what I’m trying to say.
Where is he?