Innova

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Raven?" Devian's voice drifts into the air around me, slightly muffled by the door.

"Food..." that creepy voice whispers again.

The doorknob twists and slowly the door cracks open.

Thinking fast I shove the door shut and lock it. "I'll be out in a bit!" I shout a bit too loud. Cringing at my appearance in the mirror, I scramble to find a good excuse. My mind races as my hands hurry to wipe off the blood around my mouth and off my arm. Throwing on a random shirt I found in a drawer, I flush the WD ( A/N-waste disposal: aka toilet) and pretend to wash my hands. Last minute I shove my bloody shirt deep into the cabinet.

I scrub off the last bit of blood off my arms and then open the door.

Devian stares tiredly at me. His gaze drifts over me and stops when it lands on my arm. He looks at it for a bit too long, and I start to get uncomfortable. Does he know what just happened?

I get the urge to tell him, but something holds me back. I don't know how he'd react to this. Who knows what he'd do? Thoughts of murder and my death race through my head.

"What happened?" he asks. His voice sounds a bit raspy and by the look in his eyes I can tell he isn't fully awake yet. Good. It'll be easier to lie to him then.

"I... I had a nightmare." I say slowly. He stares at me straight in the eye. I look down, hoping he'll read this gesture as embarrassment and not nervousness.

"What was it about?"

"I was being strangled."

It's the best lie I could come up with.

Once again, Devian stares at me, his expression unreadable. The next thing he does surprises me.

He leans over and gives me a hug. I tense up. I never liked being touched or hugged. It always gave me the feeling that I was going to suffocate, or drown.

Warily, I place my arms around him. A moment later he pulls back, and I awkwardly stand there.

After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, Devian speaks up.

"I need to go." I look up at him confused. Realization dawns on me and I quickly move out of the doorway, my cheeks heating up. Before he heads in, Devian puts his hand on my shoulder. "Get some rest, Raven."

"Yeah," I mumble as he shuts the door.

I head back to bed and lay down exhausted, not even bothering to untangle the sheets.

I close my eyes and drift off...

~

Devian's POV

I stare at the bloody shirt in my hands.

I knew she was hiding something.

My heart sinks in my chest. It didn't work. The Remidium didn't work. I couldn't save her.

Why do I even care? I should end her now. Just go in her room and snap her neck or slit her throat.

For some reason that thought sickens me. Do I... care about her?

No. I can't. The last time I cared about someone, things didn't end well. No, I can't care about her. She's just a stupid Innovan pawn.

And I'm going to kill her.

I silently walk out of the room, making my way to the couch. I grab my backpack and slowly pull the zipper open. Silently rummaging around, my hands land on one of my smaller knives.

I pull it out and stare at it. Thin and elegant, the silver blade flashes in the dim light. I remember the one who gave it to me, and I quietly gather my nerves.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way to her room. The door creaks slightly as I open it, and a soft ray of light lands on her face. She barely looks human. Her black hair spreads haphazardly around her face, making her white skin pop out even more against the tangled grey sheets.

She looks like an ancient porcelain doll, white skin and slightly chubby cheeks. She looks like glass, ready to break at any moment. She breathes out in sharp puffs before taking a deep breath. I stand there and watch her breathe, making sure she's asleep.

Deep breathe in, sharp puff out. Over and over.

Once I'm certain she's asleep I make my way to the edge of her bed. She doesn't even have any covers on her, she just lays on top of the blankets and sheets.

As I sit down on the edge of the bed, her eyebrows furrow together in discomfort. She rolls over towards me and lays on her side facing me.

I slowly reach out and put the knife on her throat. I gather the will to press down and draw the knife across her throat. Just as I'm about to do it, about to slit her throat, she makes a small, high pitched whimper in the back of her throat.

My breathe stops and I watch her eyebrows furrow together even more, making yet another high pitched whimper. My heart cracks.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit. I quickly pull the knife away from her throat. Why is this so hard? Why can't I do this? What makes her different than the other ones I've done this to? She's Infected. I saw the drop of blood on her chin, and I know what she was doing, I could hear it.

I cant care about her, I can't. I don't even know her for fucks sake!

Raven makes that small whimpering noise again and starts moving her hands around, trying to grab a blanket or something.

I start to panic. She can't wake up. Not now. Not with me like this. I grab a blanket and throw it over her. She stops moving, but her eyebrows are still furrowed.

I stroke her hair back with my hand. It's soft just like a kitten's fur, or a chick's downy feathers. I find myself absentmindedly staring at her face. Her eyebrows slowly relax and my hand stops stroking her hair.

I trace her eyebrows with my fingertips. Her eyebrows are thin and dark. My fingertips run down her nose. I cup her cheek with my hand and slowly rub it back and forth with my thumb.

I'm acting like a creep.

Silently sighing, I peel my hand off her face and walk back to the couch, closing her door on the way out.

Shaking my head, I sit down on the couch. Leaning over, I hold the small knife in my hand and stare at it thoughtfully.

I'm so caught up in my head that I barely hear the thunk of unknown object hitting the floor, or the slight hiss of air.

I jump up in realization, the knife slicing my hand as I drop it.

We're being gassed.