24. Seraphina
24
SERAPHINA
“THE BAD DOCTOR”
I park my bike in front of the Drunken Hound, my veins buzzing with excitement as I remember the last time I stopped for a drink here. I can’t help but scan the crowd for Orion’s broad shoulders, a pit of disappointment opening in my chest when the only face I recognize is Axel, the bartender.
I take my usual seat in the corner, giving Axel a polite nod when he looks my way. A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I scan the bar one last time, doubling over each stranger’s face in case I accidentally missed him.
But that’s not possible. I could never miss Orion in a crowd.
I’m about to turn back around when my gaze does catch on a familiar face—but it’s not the one I was looking for.
Dr. Kebler.
The name enters my mind so forcefully, it nearly knocks me off my stool. I have foggy memories of his cruel eyes staring into my own as he stands above me, as he pushes a strange swirling substance into my veins.
What the fuck is the Sanctum’s psychiatrist doing in a bar? This bar in particular?
I don’t have time to question it, because it’s at that moment Dr. Kebler looks my way. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in my expression, thin lips parted and revealing his horrible, yellowed teeth. Though the rest of my memory is fractured, I can see that wicked smile clear as day—can remember how he would only show it off when I was screaming in agony.
I’m at the exit before I even realized I’ve moved. Axel is shouting something in the distance, but it’s too muddled for me to make out. My pulse is pounding in my ears, rivaling the thumping of the bass, the reckless beating of my heart.
I shove the door open and stumble into the night air, my throat constricting until it’s nothing more than a straw for me to suck air through. Gasps ring out as I shove past several people, ignoring their offerings of assistance as I stumble blindly toward my bike.
Just feet from it, my vision splinters, the ground spins out from under me, and I fall to my hands and knees. I run my fingers through the cool dirt, my eyes widening as the ground rushes up to greet me. My gaze flits over each individual speck of sand, my vision magnifying until I can see the very molecules that make them up.
A blast of color invades my vision, swirling and dripping and filling my veins with a pleasant warmth. And suddenly, I’m not looking at the ground anymore—I’m staring at the stars. Only, they’re not stars at all.
My soul levitates from my body, and all at once I’m looking at myself, crouched and sobbing into the dirt. I float out into the atmosphere, nothing but sympathy for that poor girl stuck on the ground. Starlight explodes from my pores, and my mouth widens in awe as I flip my hand over, admiring the way the moonlight passes through.
I look back down to that sad girl, frowning at the small black crow perched next to her shaking frame. It pecks at her hair, flapping its inky wings irritably when she refuses to acknowledge it.
All at once, the crow morphs into a skyscraper bathed in gold—dripping in gold. A giant crater forms in the center, only it’s not a crater. It’s another mouth, opening to swallow me whole.
And there’s those teeth. Dripping, pointy, sharp teeth reaching, calling to my flesh.
My body begins to sink back to the earth, and I scream up at the sky, at the stars that were supposed to call me home. I’m dragged, down, down, down, and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t breathe, can't blink, can’t move.
CANTMOVE
“Someone help me!” I scream, my throat raw and bloody. “Someone please HELP ME.”
HELP ME!
H
E
L
P
M
E
!
!
“ Help me!” The mouth mocks. “ Help me help me help me! She’s bleeding! Someone please help!”
I slip into the deep cavern of its throat, closing my eyes as terror rolls over my skin in waves. I wait for the pain, the shredding and gnawing of sharp teeth, but it never comes.
Opening my eyes, I find myself crouched on the dirt a few feet from my bike, my fingernails cracked and bloody, caked with wet soil from where I’ve been tearing at the earth. I suck in a breath, my entire body shivering with the aftermath of my hallucination.
I don’t have time to recover, though. The bar doors bang open, and I don’t have to look to know who it is that’s followed me into the night. With Dr. Kebler’s gaze boring a hole into my back, I push to a standing position and race the last couple of feet to my bike.
My engine roars to life and I kick off, hanging low over the handlebars as I speed off down the street and away from the man who used to make my life a waking hell.
I never thought I’d see the day where going to see Ivan is a better alternative.