The Sentinel's Conduit

| 10 | My Salvation

Content Advisory: Contains sensitive themes that may be triggering. Reader discretion is advised.

◈ Celia ◈

The world is a kaleidoscope of muted colors and distorted sounds, a twisted mockery of reality. It feels like I'm floating, drifting, lost in a haze of pain and despair. My body feels foreign, disconnected, as if I'm watching myself from a distance, a silent observer to my own suffering.

"Celia."

The voice is distant, echoing through the fog that shrouds my mind. It's Elion, I realize dimly. But I can't bring myself to acknowledge him. I can't find the strength to respond. My body is still in shock, my mind reeling from the horror of what's happened to me. The tears won't stop flowing, hot and salty against my cheeks, but I feel nothing, numb to the core.

I understand what's happened to me, what's been taken from me. But my brain refuses to process it, to accept the shattering reality of my world. All I feel is this overwhelming sadness, this sense of utter violation and loss.

The memories come in flashes, jagged shards of horror that slice through the haze: the cold metal of chains against my wrists, the sickening stench of the vampire's breath on my skin, the searing pain of his invasion.

"Soon to be your maker."

The words echo in my head, over and over again, his voice a sinister sound that paralyzes me. I realize now that those are the last words I heard just moments before he violated me again, only I was awake the entire time.

Why..? I don't understand...

"Celia," Elion calls again, his voice softer now, laced with a gentleness I've never heard before.

I feel the weight of his hand on my back, the rough leather of his jacket against my bare skin. I flinch at the contact, my body recoiling instinctively, every nerve raw and exposed. But slowly, painfully, I force myself to look up, to meet his gaze.

His eyes are different from what I'm used to, the hard, unyielding steel I've come to know replaced by a softness, a pity that twists like a knife in my gut.

I hate it.

I hate the way it makes me feel small and broken, a shattered remnant of the woman I used to be.

I open my mouth to speak, my lips trembling, my throat raw and aching. "I want to go home. Please, take me home." The words are a plea, a desperate cry for some semblance of normalcy, of warmth and safety.

But Elion's expression is bleak, his brow furrowed with regret. "I can't take you home, Celia. You've been bitten. You'll be a vampire before morning comes."

The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. "What?" I whisper, my mind struggling to comprehend what he's saying.

I don't remember being bitten. I don't remember anything beyond the searing pain and the suffocating darkness.

I've been bitten..? When..? How..?

Elion's voice is gentle, almost tender, as he asks, "Celia, have you accepted Christ as your Lord and Savior?"

I furrow my brow, confusion and fear warring inside me. "W-What do you mean?"

"I want to help you," he says, his eyes boring into mine, searching for something I'm not sure I possess. "But I can't help you unless you believe God can save you."

I shake my head, my thoughts a tangled mess, my heart thundering in my chest. "I-I don't... I don't know. I-I think so." The words feel hollow, empty, a meaningless platitude in the face of my shattered faith.