Fallen (editing)

Chapter 27

Father raised the whip again, slicing it across my chest.
"YOU'RE HELPING HUMANS NOW?! Have you forgotten your place?!"
He cracks the whip again and I clamp my jaw tightly.
Blood stains the shirt I'm wearing, pooling onto the floor.
Father's eyes blaze insanely and he reaches down, pulling me by my shirt.
"That girl is human, understand. I mighty have gone easier on you if you, at least, got energy. But. You. Didn't."
He throws me onto the floor. I clamp my eyes shut, holding in a scream.
Father straightens, transforming back to normal. He clasps his hands together in front of him, sneering down at me.
"Have you learned your lesson?"
I grit my teeth and stare at the ground, breathing through my teeth.
Father growls,"I asked you a question."
"Yes...... Sir."
"Good."
He steps back up to his throne and crosses his legs.
"You and your friend have gotten quite the bit of power."
I try to sit up, clutching my blood-stained torso.
He continues,"You almost have enough power to come home. With this power, you could at least turn your friend back to normal."
His eyes glitter and his lip curls. "Or you could cause a catastrophe."
He leaps off his throne, throwing something at me.
My arm shoots up, catching the knife in my hand.
I glare at him. "What is this?"
"That, dear son, is how you'll come back home. When you've got enough energy, it'll glow red. Slice it through the air to make a portal. But the portal can only be made at midnight and it has to be made at an area where an, ah, emotional roller coaster, per say, happened."
He stares at me. "Understand?"
I nod slowly and stand shakily on my feet.
"Sylt."
"Yes?"
"Kill that girl."
I clench my fists. "What."
"You heard me. You want to come home? Kill. That. Girl."
I grip the knife tightly in my hand. "Yes, sir."
He smiles wickedly. "Good."

I wake up, sweat beading on my forehead. My chest hurts like Hell and my fists are clenched tight, my nails digging into my palm.
I breathe hard, huge rattling breaths rocking my chest.
I stumble into the bathroom, pulling my shirt over my head.
I flick on the light and stare at the mirror.
Huge scars criss-cross over my stomach and chest. Its pale pink flesh is stark against my tan skin.
I grit my teeth and look at my neck, trailing down to my chest. Irritated bruises cover the left side. When I move, it sends waves of pain rolling through my torso.
I squeeze my eyes closed and splash water onto my face.
I take a deep breath and crawl back into bed.
The knife sits next to me on the table.