Clothed in our grief

Chapter Fifty Two

Let me take over. I can make this entire problem go away. Nicholas, or anyone like him? They won't ever hurt you again! Let me take over.

"No.."

Come on, don't be weak. You know I'm capable of doing it. Do you want to get out of this alive?!

"Stop.."

Don't be so naive. You know he's not going to tell you everything. He's just going to make you think he won't kill you, force you to work against your father. He's playing you!

"Please.."

I can tell you everything. I can help you remember, please. Just let me take over. Everything will be so much easier if you let me.

You let your head go limp, falling between your shoulders. She just keeps talking, it's your voice but you know she's not you. Feeling a strain in your wrists and a tight pinching you haven't felt yet. You wince harder, allowing tears to come cascading down your face. Dropping right onto the lid below you, the only thing that's keeping you from burning alive.

The smoke is getting to you. It's not just any smoke, it's something else. There's something else.

But smoke is smoke.

Your skin is hot. It hurts so much to open your eyes, it burns so much. It's lost most of it's natural color, and has been replaced with a slight red tinge. Sweat rolls over every inch of your body, your lungs hurt so god damned badly. You're always going into fits of coughing, at one point you had to stop sobbing in order to breathe. You can feel your feet blistering under the heat, the white long gown isn't doing much for you, either. It's stuck to your body by sweat and only making this all harder to cope with.

"I don't-" You started speaking, closed eyes scrunched tight to avoid feeling anymore burning pain in them then you're already feeling. It stung, your vision was starting to fade around the corners and you were beginning to see black dots cloud your vision. Your throat, it hurt even worse. Coughing hurt so bad, but every few seconds you'd just go into another fit of violent coughing. Forcing you to move and jerk yourself forward, putting more of a strain on your wrists.

"You don't understand? Let me explain. I can teach you things I never taught your father. Killing you, yes it would hurt him. Torturing you? It would kill him. But do you know what would hurt him the most?" Coming closer to you, he speaks in a sickening tone. You can't even open your eyes to look at him at this point, it hurts so much just to move your eyes under the lids of them.

"You killing him."

Let me take control, this can be over with. You can live! Let me take control!
What are you waiting for?!? Embrace me!
You cannot honestly allow this man to do this to you. This is pathetic, if I was in control he'd already be dead.
LET ME SAVE YOU.

You can't even open your eyes, and moving is just too hard to do on your own. you're desperate, in pain, burning, aching, and bleeding.

Limply, you nod your head.

"Good choice, Constantine." Referring to you by your last name, he steps forwards on the opening of the circle and smudged the white chalk with the toe of his shoe. And as if by the instant he does so, the fire beneath you goes out. No need for water, and in a quick sound of a flare going off, your wrists feel limp.