Chasing Death

Chapter 26

"Love and romance are not the same. The moment we confuse the two, loads of friendships are at stake."

🖤🖤🖤

Tora's POV

Dark — all-consuming, numbing darkness. They say blinding light, but the darkness was blinding me more than any light ever could—if I could see light someday that is.

As my belly growled and twisted with hunger pangs, I curled up on myself, hugging my arms even tighter. The stench of putrid blood mixed with the stink of sweat didn't bother me anymore. I guess that's how medical graduates get adjusted to the smell of formaldehyde in dissection labs. Our bodies are meant for adjusting, our noses, our eyes, our tongues, everything adjusts itself, but then our organs don't. Like my stomach, which was rumbling loud enough to draw the attention of the guards. And it has been grumbling for what seemed like days.

When you're trapped in the dark, time stops making sense. Day and nights are concepts that keep us going, keep us running towards a goal and destination. But when the purpose of your existence becomes a slow march to your own death, time ceases to be of consequence. It was just a long wait, a wait to see which of my organs failed me first.

My bone dry tongue licked my chapped lips and I could count the cracks and the tangy taste of blood that spilt on my tongue wherever it touched. I was thankful for the darkness because I knew I would have hated to look at myself in the condition I was in. And strangely enough, every hour in the immortal prison reminded me of the room Nikhit had locked me in.

The memories kept flooding back to me, swirling in my head. When I had resurrected him, maybe a part of me still loved him. Not anymore. He was the reason for my suffering. He was the reason all this happened and...

A shuffling noise broke my train of thoughts again. It had been so long that I wondered for a second if I was hallucinating. But the footsteps grew louder and more urgent. And it wasn't a single person. It seemed like a set of footsteps. A few grunts and moans and something banged hard against the grills of my prison cell. The back of a person in a grey hoodie hit the metal bars and crumpled to the floor. He vanished in a shower of flames and ashes.

I could hear a commotion outside like lots of people speaking at the same time.

Was this a rebellion? I cowered in fear, trying to drag my broken body away from the door.

"Got her," a voice screamed. It was familiar, but my hunger addled brain couldn't pinpoint the source. My vision was a blurred mixture of bright light at the end of the darkness and a black silhouette framed by the blinding light. It was as if I was underwater, gasping, and there was a hand reaching in to drag me out from my death. And I was being hauled up, up on my feet.

"Can you walk?" The voice asked urgently.

A gurgle escaped my throat. Maybe I had forgotten to speak.

The figure lifted me up like a rag doll and tossed me over his shoulders. I could see the glimpse of a black hooded face and gleaming gold eyes before he was running— running at superhuman speed, swifter than air, faster than sound. The darkness swirled and whizzed past me, becoming a cacophony of noises, like static from an old radio, and my world plunged into darkness once again. But this time, it was blissful seclusion. It felt safe, this darkness felt like home.

🖤🖤🖤

I woke up to a rough palm brushing the side of my face. It was a calm, soothing touch, and it somehow created ripples in my heart. My right hand rose instinctively and placed itself on the palm, caressing me. It stayed there for a second, holding the hand against me.