2. Scars that won’t heal #2
“Hey, you need to get out of here,” I demand, shuffling my way across the grass and back on the running track. Hesitant, they eye me with suspicion while Jacob reaches for his weapon. I am on edge, searching between the trees and turning in circles.
“Is someone after you?” the detective asks, moving closer.
Out of breath, I keep a low voice like it’ll make a difference. “You need to leave. It’s not safe.”
His brow furrows. “Calm down. Tell me what’s going on.” But again, I’m too late.
A dark cloud slithers behind the couple and consumes their shadows. Wrapping its arm around the young lady’s neck before her frightened partner can react, tentacles explode from its other arm, swaddling him and restraining his voice.
Their chance of survival is plummeting fast.
“What the fuck is that?” Jacob shouts, turning and raising his shivering pistol.
I step closer. “Rosie, you don’t need to do this. Let them go.”
Squeals come from the young lady as tears trace her cheeks. The dread of watching them die rips my heart and opens unhealed scars.
“Did you say, Rosie?” Jacob finds his resolve enough to assess the situation. The guy within the foul creature’s hold kicks and screams, but his gaze never leaves his partner.
“There’s no time to explain, Detective. You have a gun, use it,” I huff in irritation. What the fuck is he waiting for? But instead, he remains stiff, frozen in a paralytic state while this creature continues squeezing the life from its two victims.
My blade is still tucked away, and if he’s not helping, I’ll do it myself. I stalled in hopes of saving her, but with other lives at stake, I’m left with one choice. Fight.
I retrieve my knife before charging towards my impending doom, tightening my grip and letting determination guide me. I’m going to kill this monstrosity and send a message to Death, myself.
“Kyra, stop. If that’s Rosie, you could harm her and the others,” Jacob tries reasoning with me, but his warning isn’t welcome. This isn’t my best friend, no matter how many times it persists.
A resounding crack filters through the area, and the guy goes limp before being tossed away like nothing more than trash. I freeze. My jaw slackens in utter shock, and his partner thrashes with painful screams, bellowing to her fallen lover.
“Please, no,” I mouth. My blade should have pierced its body by now, so why can’t I move? What’s keeping me from attacking?
The blighted demon bites her neck, slowing her movements until they cease. Was this supposed to be my fate? Is this why I can’t move? Thinking about my own bite marks, another sting in my shoulder answers back.
She hits the ground beside her deceased lover, and blood pools from beneath her lifeless body. Again, I’m too late . Forced to witness another life taken.
Death’s message is loud and clear. No matter how close I am to helping, I’ll always remain…Helpless.
It snarls, “Your soul will ensure my ascension.” Leaning forward, tar-like smoke glides down its face, revealing Rosie’s once more, but she’s not begging for help. There is no sorrow or regret within her features. Only malice and hate. “I’ll devour your soul and be reborn a God.”
A chain of incendiary blasts results in me ducking as Detective Jacob fires his weapon. Shot after shot enters the being, yet it remains planted and unfazed.
“Run, Kyra!” he demands. “Get out of–”
It takes a fraction of a blink for the demon’s hand to twitch and send tentacles flying into Jacob’s body, silencing him and leaving blood and dismantled parts amidst the air.
“No,” I wail, until the raw muscle within my throat burns.
Massive blood puddles surround me, depicting a sorrowful soul forced to gaze upon her own broken reflection. My failures. As tears fall free, something inside me snaps. Beneath a thick layer of warmness, something frigid crawls from the deepest part of my soul until I’m subsumed by rage.
I find this false Rosie eyeing me in wonder. Awaiting in a taunting manner. Good, because I’m done with running and being afraid.
Vexation takes root, and my entire body heats with conviction. That son of a bitch is going to die . Pushing through my stiffness, I rush in and thrust my blade, finding a home deep in its chest.
“Kyra, why?” the thing asks, using her voice in a dolent tone.
For a moment, I settle, examining her features and noting a hint of pain furrowing her brows.
My hands tremble with regret until a crooked smile tugs at her lips, and I remove the blade, striking again.
The second thrust hits something, and it shrieks in agony.
Swinging for my head, I duck, pulling the blade free and slicing at its thigh.
Another attack comes faster, and I’m barely able to evade, but my years of martial arts training won’t go unused despite how long its been—I’m glad muscle memory is a thing.
I avoid the strike with a swift step back, pivoting and aiming for its ribs.
I watch as my blade impales the demon, and its howl is bliss to my ears.
It retaliates, yet I’m quicker, twisting around and pulling the blade with me, creating a deep gash through its stomach towards its back. Relishing in another howl as it vanishes, I take pride knowing the demon can be injured as I watch blackened blood drip from my blade.
Movement startles me, and I swivel, listening for any sudden sounds. As my peripheral catches the edge of its shadow, I’m knocked down by a blunt strike.
Pain consumes every inch of my body, but despite how much that fucking hurt, I’m still able to move. With my blade in hand, I know this fight isn’t over, so I roll as it prepares for another attack. Two whips aim for my body, but I’m back on my feet in a flash.
“If you think that’s enough to kill me, guess again,” I warn, taking one step closer, then another, until my strides increase. Each inhalation brings me closer to falling as my chest and shoulder warn against moving. But fuck that, and fuck him, her, or whatever the hell this demon is.
Another tentacle hurls my way, splitting in two, and I dodge the first with ease. The second one–not so much. It deeply grazes my leg but not enough to cease my movements. I strike again, taking my reward with a collision to its ribs, yet it doesn’t stop there.
I dodge and attack, using precise blows, but once again, the demon’s luck lands a hit. I’m tossed aside, banging my head against the ground, but this time, getting up isn’t so easy as something threatens to puncture my lungs.
Fuck. I think I broke a rib. Curling into a ball, I cope with the torment. The crunch of rustling grass alarms me, but I can’t move. Every twitch sparks more pain pinging between organs and bone.
“Your soul,” the demon states, announcing its presence. A shiver slides down my back, and my core demands that I rise, but tears haze my vision. This is unbearable. So was witnessing the couple’s demise and watching Jacob reduced to nothing. But seeing Rosie’s face is…soul shattering.
The blade lies beside me, and though I yearn for it, the slightest reach makes me want to implode.
Something thick wraps over my side, lifting me, and at the last call of will, my fingers glide across the blade, remembering my best friend’s words. “DESS. Don’t Ever Submit or Surrender.”
I’m turned around to face this ungodly thing head on, and it is expressionless. Just immoral and ominous eyes staring back.
“What did Rosie do to deserve this?” I ask, my lips quivering.
“Your smell. It clung to her.”
My smell? Sure, we’d been running through the haunted woods together, but how did… My jacket. She was cold, and I lent her my jacket. Which is the only reason I’m wearing hers. Mine was destroyed. This thought hits harder than any punch could. Because of me, she was killed.
“I’m so sorry, Rosie,” I speak before a numbing pressure strikes the right side of my chest. Blood races towards the ground, and I witness a tentacle piercing straight through me. Its leer holds nothing but death.
Pressure strikes again, and I choke. Another tentacle finds its home beneath my broken rib. And hidden within the trees, silently watching, is the same pinkish glow. I hate…those fucking…eyes. Blood spurts across my puffy lips as a cough bubbles up, and a foul taste lingers in my mouth.
My weighted lids close, granting me a reprieve of darkness, and they say your life flashes before your eyes when facing death. I disagree. There’s no sense of things I wish I’d done. Just an empty void and a fleeting promise for her revenge.
An overwhelming revenge.
If I’m to die, then this thing comes with me. To leave it in this world after taking everything from me, no . I won’t let that happen. If not now, I’ll get to that bitch Death in the next life.
With valiant strength, I plunge my blade.
It pierces the demon’s chest, forcing a dreadful shriek to chase after the darkened blood flying from its mouth.
Time doesn’t permit it to dodge my attack.
I nudge the blade deeper as heat weaves through my stained fingers, and a smile raises my cheeks while it bellows.
“Fuck you,” I spit. Holding my knife with slickened hands, I strike its chest repeatedly, continuing at its frame for as long as I draw breath. Another tentacle enters me, but that doesn’t relax my movements. One of us is leaving first, and it won’t be me.
More attacks enter my body, and finally, my arm falls limp. We both hit the ground as its tentacles remain plunged through me. I wanted to watch the life drain from its eyes, yet Rosie stares back.
“Kyra–” she coughs, and tears wet both our cheeks.
I spurt the warm liquid draining from my lips. “I’m so sorry for all of this.” I lost my best friend weeks ago, and though this thing wore her face to spite me, that doesn’t negate what I’m feeling now.
We hold this moment as silence caresses us.
“Your soul–” she coughs again.
Returning one of my own, I sputter, “You…Can’t…Have it.” I remove my blade from its chest, piercing it again. Streams of smoke whisk over her face, visually bringing back the demon’s.
When losing a high quantity of blood, I know my body is supposed to grow cold, but all I feel is heat.
An immense amount of it. Like mine is rejecting the notion of dying, and who am I to object?
The heat grows blinding, and waves of energy begin flowing around us, yet something about this feels okay.
Death can’t exist in the light. This means she can’t have me either.
Smiling, colors stir through me, and another pair of glowing eyes appear, opposite from the pink tint that’s been lurking within the shadows. Their black contrast mixes with the flowing hues before an explosion goes off.