Enraptured:The Sacrifice Trilogy [Book 2]

15. Her

Adelaine

Part of me feels ripped apart inside.  Not mainly because of what I did to Savannah when she was still inhabiting The Underworld, though that haunts me every day.  Sometimes this pesky thing called sympathy rises up without warning-no, not sympathy really-more like guilt.  Guilt that nothing remained of her tortured, once pure soul when all was said and done.  After so much time has passed, though, why should it bother me now?  My sister bathed in mayhem back then!  I simply killed her.

What's worse is that I can't remember her name.  Whenever a family member dies in The Underworld brutally, our connection severs like cords from an outlet.  Instantly. Only fragments are left behind, broken pieces of memories.  There's no rhyme or reason for it as far as I'm informed, even Alexander claims he doesn't know why this event occurs.   
Wait...why am I thinking about this? I hate dwelling on the past! It's this revelation that snaps my dazed brain awake. It also comes with three other revelations as well;
1. I'm inside a frigid room.
2. My entire body feels like a truck hit it.
3. I can't see anything, even though my eyes are definitely open.
Hearing is not a problem,  however. The horrible sound of a drill invaded these ears- unwanted,obviously. Before the object can fully enter my left ear, someone leans down-a woman, I think.  Her voice is rather raspy: I'm guessing from anger.  "Get ready for hell darling, because that's where you're headed," she promises.  

The woman unexpectedly uses her powers to suck my life energy out of me.  Eyelids suddenly feeling too heavy for words, I choke out: "Newsflash, Sabrina The Teenage Witch, I'm already there."

These irises close seconds later.  

* * *

I woke up curled in the arms of Alexander, laying comfortably on a bed with velvet-colored sheets; the feeling of absolute contentment inside me.  Two tiny fingers wrap themselves around both my hands as a child jumps into awaiting arms happily-my child.  Savannah's hair is one tangled mess, like spiderwebs dancing crazily on her head.  She nudges her father gently to no avail. She attempts again, but still received no response whatsoever.  Slowly, carefully so she doesn't cause him pain, lifts his head off his pillow.  A horrible cry escapes her lips moments after, and she begins to sob like the world had been snatched away from underneath her feet.

Alexander's whole body is caked in blood, his throat was slit, and his eyes-those eyes that I love so much seem to be trapped in a permanent state of shock.  When Savannah spoke again her voice came out breathless, considerably unfeeling.  "He's dead, mamma." 

That's exactly the second I couldn't hold myself together anymore.  Clutching her small body to mine as if I was afraid of letting go-which I'm guessing I was-sobs overtook me in awful, heaving breaths.  Pulling back slightly wearing this look of utter panic a little girl should never experience, Savannah whispers: "Mom, where's Hayden?"  Before I can even answer her question, she's already dashing down the long corridor in search of her twin.  A scream echoed down the hall like knives piercing through skin multiple times, unable to be evaded.  

I ran down hall after everlasting hall for dear life, until finally I stopped in the living room. Every piece of furniture is coded in blood, up from the once unblemished ceiling, down to the glass table in the corner.  "Savannah, what?-oh, my God!" I crumpled on the floor beside her, wrapping Savannah's eight-year-old body inside my arms.  Savannah couldn't say a word; she just kept stroking her dead sister's hair in repetitive motions, back and forth, side to side.

Hayden's lips are pale, her eyes so wide and shell-shocked.  However, her hair-well, her hair-is streaked straight in the middle with blood.  All we could do was watch, me wearing a black silk robe, with Savannah in her Hello Kitty pajamas, as our family tore apart.