2. Scars that won’t heal
Scars that won’t heal
KYRA
My vision is speckled. A tingling in the pit of my stomach vibrates over my lungs as I gasp for air, and my palms pulsate a matching beat to the relentless pounding in my head. What the fuck just happened?
There is no time to react as something harrowingly wraps over my leg and causes me to stiffen. With a strong pull, I’m drug across the running track, releasing a shriek of terror.
“Let me go!” I yell at a faint silhouette, tugging a rope tethered around my ankles. Not only am I seeing double, but all surrounding colors start to blend.
Another forceful yank lifts me into its embrace, forcing my back to arch against the crushing pressure of its hold, and I squeal for release. Whatever thing this is constricts my lungs even more.
In one swift motion, a piercing ache strikes the soft flesh between my neck and shoulder, drowning out any thoughts until I’m consumed by rage. This son-of-a-bitch bit me.
“Get. Off. Me,” I grunt between words as a citric burn fizzes around its teeth. My skin pulls between them, and after a few agonizing seconds, the pressure subsides. However brief, I gasp deeply before sharp teeth press four more pairs of bite marks into my flesh.
I wince, waiting to be consumed by more pain as its grip holds firm, bending me in an unnatural way. But such pain never surfaces, yet a calming sensation bathes over me.
For a brief time, everything seems like a dream. Flashes of happy memories, muscles relaxing, all tension melting away, and the pounding in my head fades. Problems up till now appear insignificant. I am at peace–until I’m not.
Yanking its teeth away, my skin rips from the movement. Agony comes full force, and the dream I found myself in shatters, bringing back this reality. My fist collides with the side of its head.
“Shit,” I wail. The ground rushes towards me as I violently fling from its grasp. Rolling aside and clasping my fist, I feel prickles of heat weaving through the now cracked bones like I punched concrete. Who the hell has a skull that hard ?
A demon’s growl surrounds me, and though my vision hasn’t cleared, it’s enough to squint through the tears building up. I bear witness to what nightmares are made of as I see an otherworldly being standing a few feet away, fading in and out of existence.
Its hands are withered with branch shaped fingers, and the rope used to pull me is something made of dark whips.
Crawling backwards, I ignore the afflicting pain. “What the hell are you?”
The ambiance muffles, and my other senses struggle to keep up. Death is trying Her damndest to take me, playing by unfair rules, but what else should be expected from a heartless bitch.
“Your soul…That sweet smell.” Its haunting tone chills the warm blood in my veins, causing the hair on my arms to rise. “It pours off you, and I demand it,” it snarls.
A jolt of suffering stings around my bite marks, but I jump to my feet, racing back the way I came. There’s no way in hell I’m letting this ‘thing’ kill me.
“Kyra, help,” a voice cries out. A melody striking my thudding heart almost brings me to my knees. Just a few strides away, my pace halts at her tone. I snap around, witnessing a cloud of black smoke peeling away from its skin, revealing Rosie’s face– My Rosie’s face.
But something feels off. There isn’t a hint of life in her.
She is pale. Stiff. Dead. Her eyes swirl with smoke, her hair is black as tar like it absorbs all the surrounding light, and her body twitches with an unnatural motion.
This isn’t my best friend. I watched her die and be buried a few weeks ago. Didn’t I?
My heart breaks all over again at any implication of having her back. A desire to reach out courses through me, but peering inside those daunting eyes is like falling into a torturous abyss that I can’t sit through again.
“You’re not Rosie. Stay the hell away from me!” I scream until my lungs burn. I want–no–need this to be true, but the numbness of her absence fights to remain.
“Please don’t let him take me.”
Desolate smog coils around her arm as she extends it. Could this indeed be her? A war between what I know is true and what my heart desires is more than enough to give in.
Taking a cautious step forward, I question, “Rosie?” If there’s any chance of saving her, why is my body so reluctant to move?
“Kyra,” she pants back. Emotions weave through her lifeless eyes and wetness coats her bottom lids.
“Tell me it’s you, please,” I beg, but she stands at a distance, staring back emptily. My heart smothers all doubts until only a need for her to live remains.
I advance, locking onto her conflicting expression and reaching out with a surge of hope. The essence of time–nonexistent, and our fingers interlock. Her touch is cold against my warming skin, and her lifeless pupils awaken from their slumber.
These past weeks have been hell, and I would’ve given anything to have Rosie back.
Caressing her face, I ask, “Can you hear me?”
“Kyra?” she responds. Her head shakes, breaking that imprisoning trance. “What happened? What are we doing here?” Confusion morphs her delicate features I’m so accustomed to.
“We need to leave. Tell me how to save you before ‘it’ comes back.” Pulling on her arm, I urge her as nature stills.
She tears away with a ‘what’s going on’ look pinching her brows. Gray freckles gloss over the tones of her reddish-brown gaze, hooded under an overcasting shadow. “Save me from what?”
“Rosie, please, let’s go!” Reinitiating my grasp, she gives in, allowing me to lure her towards the park’s entrance. It takes some effort, but after a small lapse of time, our pace increases. My head swivels, looking for any sign of Death’s dark dealer.
There’s no plan of stopping until she’s safe in ‘our’ place where nothing can hurt her–again. My lungs are on fire as we run. Our fingers squeeze tight, refusing to let go for the slightest moment.
Relief wells within me, seeing the earlier couple making their way down the path. They’re the first set of ‘real people’ I’ve seen since this started, and the entrance shouldn’t be far behind them.
A crippling affliction strikes my soft flesh where its teeth pierced me, and I falter, almost collapsing. Yet Rosie holds on tight.
“Are you okay,” she asks, slowing her pace.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Only a few more feet until we’re out of here.” Regaining my footing, I notice the couple proceeding past us, and I yell, “No, don’t go that way. There’s something down there.” My throat closes on the last decree.
They scan over us, whispering among themselves, but continue against my warning. The selfless part of me wants to follow and ensure they listen, but the selfish side continues moving.
Another sting sets my shoulder ablaze; pain searing down and growing. “Damn,” I spit, lurching at the intensity and coming to a complete stop.
“Kyra, you don’t look well?” Something humorous wrangles around her statement.
Taking a moment to breathe, I state, “I’m fine.” Then I slide my hoodie collar over my shoulder and assess the damage. It’s a horrific sight. My skin pulses around five bite marks, all seeping black liquid from their wounds. What the fuck. A foul odor of rotting flesh reaches my nose.
“Give into the pain.” Her tone is demonic, and I peer up, noticing she’s no longer at my side. Glancing around, I see an all too familiar view. I’m back where the creature held me with Rosie standing outside my reach.
Another wave of torment explodes through my skin, and on instinct, I grab my shoulder. Confusion fills me. One moment we are near the entrance, and next, we are back in the middle of the park. Was I dreaming that? How?
She exclaims, “Your soul!” But it’s not Rosie’s voice, and my lip’s part to respond, yet something shields it. Suddenly, shadows within the trees migrate towards her as if she’s calling them. Commanding them.
“Rosie?” My silence breaks. She leers back with hatred, and her disguise morphs into something more…deadly.
“ You killed me. You did this.” Fright pales my face. I fight to stay upright as sweat beads from my cheek in tandem with the unwavering pounding in my shoulder, not letting up for a moment.
Rosie stalks closer, and my feet dig into the soil, pushing away.
I retreat a step, and she advances two. Damn it.
Beyond us, a faint light shines through the devilry trees, watching and waiting–bright pink hues, identical to those from the crash that witnessed me fail as I tried to save the woman. I hate those fucking eyes.
Her voice deepens into a growl, adding to her demonic tone. “I need your soul to ascend.” But why? What am I missing, and furthermore, how…why is it wearing her face?
“Stop. Let me help you,” I plead. We just escaped only for her to return to its embrace.
“Help me? It’s a little late for heroism, dearest best friend,” she hisses. This isn’t Rosie. She wouldn’t spew such hatred and accuse me of killing her, so why is it happening?
Her approach is quiet as if air slides beneath her footing, and in my stumbling retreat, I fall. For an instant, peering through murky eyes, everything dulls except the night’s glinting stars. A few blink in a laughing manner.
Death is watching from up there, enjoying the show.
Rosie growls, baring her teeth with tar-like liquid coating her lips, and I shudder. Her body and face become shrouded in weaving shadows, as though she is behind an ominous veil, and the earlier beast returns. A looming grim reaper.
“The screams came from this way, Detective!” someone yells, and I gasp as the demonic being vanishes.
It’s them. The couple from earlier along with Jacob. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s coming next. More death and chaos. Discomfort keeps me slow, but I promptly hop to my feet.