Heartstoppers

•FIVE•

I gasped– My eyes fluttered open with an abrupt flicker, and with an unexplainable seizure, I bolted up. Almost as if there was an unnoticeable switch within me, the day's happenings crashed all at once–Banging a hammer on my head would've been comparatively less agonizing– Oh, yeah. It was the day I finally met the shadow under the bed. The memories were fuzzy– As if someone had shoved them through a cheese grater. Somebody, also known as instincts, told me that I might have made some cheesy comebacks and caused massive collateral damage (Oof- this is punny).

But... I thought. How had I seen Julian again? Hadn't he... died? In the heat of the moment, I hadn't realized that maybe Julian was a walking-talking zombie or a very successful look-alike.

Not a look-alike, I shook my head. The real Julian. I'd felt it inside me when he'd met my eyes. No way I was wrong.

Maybe the rumors were true.

Maybe Julian had survived the fire after all.

The ultimate emotional abuse, I groaned. I need an anime for this.

One of these days, I would wake up to find out that I've been living inside a book, manipulated by some crazed author. Ridiculous, right?

I stared at my hands, which seemed more whey and bony than usual. Another rare factor– They were trembling. Sure, I'd given countless death leaflets before, but to execute one... in my defence, people ran away in step one. I hadn't really thought this far.

"Listen you coffee-addicted bitch, you didn't kill anybo-"

"I hid the bodies in the garage." Shutting the book he was reading, he looked at me dead in the eye. Resting on a beanbag in a very seducing manner. And shirtless.

Dayum boy, you've been going to the gym, huh? I thought, my mouth slightly watering.

"You're up." He said in a tone that made me realize that I'd been staring. "That makes it sixteen hours."

"SIXTEEN HOURS?!"

"Usually, after a complete firing, it takes about one or two days for a mere human to come to their senses. About a couple hours at Max for the elliptical. What I don't understand- " He said, pointing accusingly at me, "That loss of control should've killed you; why are you even alive?"

I didn't know where to look. His face? Abs? Eyes? Concentrate on his left eyebrow! I decided. Ain't there nothing sexually interesting about a left eyebrow! "Great." I mumbled, "After countless hours of a deep-held coma, I'm received with you questioning my entire existence, and that comes from a guy who calls himself the Lucifer." I winced– Ow, that chest hurt. What, had the butterflies from my stomach escaped and rampaged my heart? Perverts– could've chosen a better place.

"Senpa- Lucifer?" I breathed uncomfortably, "Yesterday... did I...? Was anybody...?"

"Killed? Unfortunately, no. Traumatized? A liable possibility." I disregarded the fact that a part of me was a little disappointed, but at the same time, relieved that my hands were not tainted with the blood of some bastardS who weren't even worth it.

"What about Messiah?" I asked, jabbing my finger at him, "You promised-"

"Technically, I didn't, but before you impale me with that pillow, know that he's being taken care of, " He added, hoping that I might not julienne his body into spaghetti.

"You forgot the 'Buuuuut'!"

"But, he hasn't recovered from the spasm attack and-" I completely zoned him out. Messiah being alive, meant me not tearing this edifice down. The hole in my heart yearned to mend itself, but I didn't want to have any false hopes. The what-ifs were too many to count, and dwelling on the negative would only drive me mad. Still...