Chasing Catalina | Book One: Worshipping Ashes

18. | The Prey

It's been three days.

Three fucking days and I can't stand to even look at myself in the mirror... but I couldn't look away from my reflection. It was confusing, and it was infuriating. The whites of my eyes were red, my nose was a shade of pink I've never seen, my freckles even faded away to hide from me. Leaving me pale and sickly. I hated myself, but I knew it wasn't my fault, but wasn't it my fault? I mean, fuck I am the one that killed–

I sucked in a sharp breath. Trying to block out the vision again. Blood spurting. A heart settled in my hand as I felt it pulsing against my slick skin. The gushing sounds it made as I crushed it- No...

I closed my eyes and shook my head as my gut stirred. Bile rose in my throat again, and this time I couldn't hold it down. I pushed myself from the dresser and ran across the hallway to the bathroom, just barely making it before erupting with vomit into the toilet bowl. A retching in my abdomen, hurting and painful. Cramping under the remaining dry heaving.

Once I was done, I pushed myself back from the toilet and leaned back against the adjacent wall. Gasping as I pushed my hair out of my face and stared down at my knees. Catching my breath seemed impossible... but I knew I had to regain some part of my sanity before trying to return to bed.

Bed... what a fucking joke.

I couldn't sleep, because all I would see was that. Ryker, Jakub... all those others that I've killed. All those people that I sucked the black smokey souls out of their bodies and took them in as if I fed off of them. I was disgusted with myself- I was my own villain... and as much as I wished to cut myself down.. I knew I wouldn't be able to.

I knew because I tried over these last few days. Marks covered my arms and my thighs, marks that were nearly healed up. I stared down at my arms as I recalled the first night here, here in this home that wasn't home. It wasn't even close. Not anymore. It's a haven of lies and deceit. All I did was cry, I didn't get a wink of sleep, and all I could remember was flashes of the memories. Memories that played back like a scratched up record. Buffering and skipping over important pieces before skipping on to a new one.

If anything could break someone's mind, that would be it. Drag a person through lies and constantly hiding the truth from them before they break with confusion, and then allow someone else who FUCKING HURT THEM to tell them the truth.

How ironic. The one person who has hurt me, who's turned something that was supposed to be beautiful into something so bleak, so dark, was the person who's saved my mind from the chains that I was put into.

There was a light knocking on the bathroom door, snapping me out of my inner turmoil just for me to realize that I had been hunched over my knees, my forehead resting against them while my fingers tangled into the back of my hair. Gripping tight enough to make it feel like I was pulling out a thousand strands.

"Cat?" it was Alistair. "I heard you get sick from the other side of the house, you okay?"

Was I okay? What kind of question is that?

"I'm fine, leave me alone." I said in a low mutter in my knees. Tears had hit my thighs-

Am I crying?

I untangled one hand from my hair and wiped my face quickly before replacing my fingers into my red curls. Attempting to yank the memories from my head. Is this why he tried to block them from me?

"Come on, Cat... you haven't spoken to me in three days." he paused, "Let me in, please." the door handle rattled gently before I heard his sigh, the door shifting slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the door. "I understand you're angry... and you're scared, but please just let me explain.."