Chapter 15 Melody
Melody
Thought number one: my head really fucking hurts.
Thought number two: I can't move my arms or legs.
Thought number three: I'm back in a fucking prison, and I have to scream.
The violence with which it rips itself out of my lungs and throat surprises me, but once I start?
I can't stop. The sheer volume hurts my own ears as I rattle the handcuffs keeping me bound to this stupid hospital-style bed.
I kick my feet, I rip my arms from side to side, and I don't. Stop. Screaming.
"Wow!" Ella pops her head around the corner, leering at me from between the metal bars of the door. "You sure can be loud!"
I take a ragged inhale, wincing at how raw my throat feels, but then keep screaming.
I don't have words. I don't have freedom.
I can't fucking move. She's trapped me, again, and I'm going to fucking kill her for it.
I'm going to rip her throat out. I'm going to make her eat her own intestines.
I'm going to tear my own hands off if that's what it takes to get me out of here.
Ella creaks open my cell door and slaps a hand over my mouth.
I bite down as hard as I can on the flesh of her palm, shaking my head back and forth like a dog.
I feel her skin split and give way; I taste the salty copper tang of her blood.
She curses loudly and tries to wrench her hand away, but I bite down harder. And harder. And harder.
"Fuck!" Ella shouts as she finally frees her hand. My teeth gnash in the air, and my eyes roll. I'm rabid, I'm feral, and I'm going to terrify her. I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill everyone.
Red floods my vision as my scream turns into a menacing laugh.
Ella glares at me, putting pressure on her bleeding hand.
She yanks a tissue from her pocket and closes her fist around it, trying to stem the flow.
I can't stop laughing. I hurt her. I did that.
And I want more. I want her blood to spill and flood the floor.
"I'm going to kill you," I whisper in a sing-song voice between hysterical giggles. "You're going to die!"
"God, that's creepy." Ella grimaces. "You're not going to do anything, though. You're locked up. Again. I'm not!"
"Not for long," I sing. "You tried this once, remember? I still got out!"
She hums thoughtfully, inspecting the tissue that's quickly turning red.
"I'll have to get a damn tetanus shot or something.
But no, you're not getting out. Look at yourself, Melly-bean.
You're going to stay right there. And the Nephilim is going to be here, and he's going to see you like this, and then you'll die. "
"The what? Is that supposed to mean something?" I cock my head to the side. "Doesn't matter. I'll kill him too."
She scoffs. "They taught you nothing, I see. You're about as smart as that fucking husband of yours."
Dante? I swear, my ears perk up. "Where is he? I want to see him. Where's my husband? Dante!"
"Shut up. He's here, but you won't get to see him. Well, not yet, anyway. All of your little friends are locked up, right here." Ella grins through her pain. "And you'll all die."
"Funny," I sniff. "I thought you were a cop. Don't cops, like, uphold the law? Or whatever?"
"Detective. And no." She smiles even wider. "You're looking at the Beacon. I quit the force. My only goal is to eradicate the Goetia now."
I know that's supposed to be impressive, but eradicating us is laughable.
So, I cackle again, my laughter only growing as she looks increasingly frustrated.
She tries to say something to me, but I switch back to my incessant screaming.
It must really irritate her because she whirls around and throws open the cell door.
Taking my only chance, I yank at my arms and legs, trying to free myself from these goddamn chains. Only then does her irritation abate, and she giggles as she watches me.
"Bye for now, Melly-bean," she laughs. "I'm going to have so much fun with you."
She slams the cell door shut and disappears down the darkened hall. As her footsteps fade, I hear metal moving somewhere nearby.
"Dante?" I shout.
"Melody!" My husband's muffled voice floats through the air, and I breathe a sigh of relief. "Melody, are you hurt?"
"No! I bit the shit out of Ella, though!"
My husband's joyful laughter fills me with pride. "Good girl, Melody!"
Looking down at the handcuffs keeping me attached to this stupid bed, I inspect the thin chain.
If I get enough force behind me, I might be able to snap it.
Maybe. I rotate my arm this way and that, watching the attachment for the chain twist along with my movements.
It seems fairly clunky. Perhaps it's not as secure as Ella thinks.
It's almost like a little D-ring with a nail through it.
I giggle again. Oh, Ella. You cheaped out on handcuffs? Amateur hour.
"Melody?" A soft voice captures my attention immediately. Holy shit. It—it can't be, right?
"Helena?" I gasp.
"Oh, my god, it's you!" Helena's voice ratchets up an octave like she's trying not to cry. "Oh, my god! You're here! Oh—oh, no. You're here."
"Where is here?" I ask, still trying to fiddle with my bindings.
"Um. Mexico, I think. That's what Hannah told me."
"Who the fuck's Hannah?" Every time I twist the connecting chain, the D-ring pin gets a little looser.
Helena goes silent for a beat. "You haven't seen her yet? Oh, god. Oh, Melody. I'm so sorry."
"Helena—who the fuck is Hannah?"
I hear her take a deep breath. "Roman's sister."
What. "What?"
"Roman's sister—she's usually here, and she's insane. Like, probably certifiable. I don't know—but she… ugh." It sounds like Helena retches, with the unsettling heaving noise bouncing around the concrete walls. "Just… be careful."
I trap my lower lip between my teeth and focus all of my concentration on carefully rotating the handcuff chain.
Every time it makes a full rotation, the pin eases outward by a hair.
If I can just get this one undone, I'll have one hand free.
That may not seem like much, but I can be a dangerous bitch with one hand.
My pulse roars in my ears as I watch the pin wiggle out further and further, until it plinks to the floor.
I gasp in a breath as I watch it roll in a circle around its flattened head.
My left hand is free, but the cuff is still shackled on my wrist. Gently pressing on the shackle, I grin as it ratchets closed another notch. Fucking amateur.
She didn't lock them. She just slapped them on, like she probably did when she was a cop.
Leaning all the way to the side, I stretch my arm as far as it'll go—trying to pick up the tiny pin. If I can just get the pin, I can shove it in the latching mechanism and open the cuff. I giggle to myself. Who knew my college party trick would come in handy someday?
"Oh, my god, I'm an idiot," I whisper to myself. Who gives a shit about that when I can free my other hand? I set to work, twisting and pulling on my right hand's bindings. It goes much faster, and I even catch the little pin.
Within moments, both of my hands are free. I flex my fingers and giggle again. I hope Ella comes back. I hope that Hannah woman shows her face. I hope I get anyone with a face in front of me. I don't have the gnawing desire in the back of my skull—this is just me.
And I'm gonna fuck shit up.
Scooting myself to the end of the hospital bed, I assess the situation with my feet.
Thick iron manacles sit heavy around my ankles.
A rusted chain dips below the bed, attaching to a metal loop built into the floor.
Fuck. They look old. Like maybe they were left here when this place shut down, however long ago that was.
There's no possible way this is still a functioning prison.
There are no guards, no modern fluorescent lighting, and no constant din of arguments or conversation.
The only lighting available is a temporary light hanging from the ceiling on a wire. It's blindingly bright, and the bulb is hidden behind a white cage. It almost looks like something a construction crew would use.
That's no help. But as I scoot down off the bed, it moves. The bed fucking moves. Old, rusty wheels scrape against the floor as I pull the bed back and forth.
"Oh, Ella, you stupid bitch," I murmur. The chain clanks and rattles as I reposition myself on the dirty floor.
"Oooh!" An unfamiliar, feminine voice floats down the hall. "New guests!"
I hear Helena's sharp inhale. That must be Hannah. With my feet still chained, I whirl around and inspect the bed. It's old and some of the metal rods have rust, but if I can yank out just one piece, I'll have something to defend myself with.
Not that I usually need such things. But if Hannah scares Helena, who knows what she'll do to me? Grabbing at the rods, I twist and turn them, trying to pry one loose.
"Who should I visit first?" The woman hums, then laughs. "Oh! Hello, you. You're delicious."
I hear my husband grumble something back, and my movements become jerky. A possessive fury vibrates in my bones. I'll fucking kill her, too. That's my husband. She's fucking dead—she just doesn't know it yet.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" I shriek out, rattling the bars of this goddamn hospital bed. One of the rods might be loosening, but my vision is too clouded with rage to tell. "Get in here, bitch! You're fucking dead!"
"Spicy," she cackles from down the hall. "Who's that?"
"You Hannah? Then I'm the bitch that shot your brother!"
Silence. Only the sound of dripping water echoes through these abandoned halls. After a few seconds, I hear shuffling against the floor and a repeated whispering from Helena's direction.
"Did you not fucking hear me? Your brother is dead! Because of me!" I bellow. My hands clamp around the thin metal railing on one side of the bed, yanking as hard as I can. With a high-pitched squeal, the railing comes loose. "Ha!"
"What did you say about Roman?"
I whirl around to find a scowling woman with hair in a familiar shade of brown and her eyes are a piercing blue.
Dressed in gray scrubs, she looks like an unhinged nurse.
Dark circles line her eyes, and her cheekbones cast shadows down her gaunt face.
She's not quite as angular as Roman is—was—but the resemblance is obvious.
I bare my teeth in a grin. She has to be Hannah.
"He's dead," I snarl. "He's fucking dead. I shot him, and I'm happy. It felt so fucking good to put him down like a rabid dog. I did him a fucking favor—traitors deserve worse than death."
As I hold the metal railing aloft, we circle each other—rather, I try to.
The chains around my ankles won't let me move very far.
But I can work on that as soon as this bitch is taken care of.
Hell, maybe she has a key? I watch her hand snake into her shirt pocket and make a fist around…
something. Hannah stops in her tracks, and I tighten my grip around the rail.
She cocks her head to the side as if listening to something, then smiles.
"He says we're going to have so much fun," she whispers. "Me and my big brother are gonna play with you."
Oh, she's crazy crazy. Good. I am, too.
I heft the railing up and take a wide swing at her, but she's too fast—she darts forward, and something cold stings my arm.
Fuck this bitch. If she's gonna put me to sleep, I'm going down swinging.
I let out a vicious scream and aim the metal at her again, flailing wildly.
I get one good hit in before the drugs—whatever they are—finally take hold, and the world goes dark.