Devoid [Bruno Mars]

Chapter twenty-nine

Chapter twenty-nine

The only thing that punctured the silence was the pounding of terror in my ears as the invisible force of shock pinned me back against the kitchen counter. I gaped at Joseph, motionless at my feet.

My breathing hardly filtered through when the shock passed. A heavy weight had settled onto my lungs, and my oxygen levels seemed to be wearing thin. I groaned as I sank to my knees, pushing Joseph into a supine position. I recoiled at what I saw.

Dark lines all over his nearly translucent skin. Unlike Bruno's, his were curvy, visibly looping over the parts of his face that wasn't covered in stubble, sweeping down his neck and arms. He clutched limply at an invincible injury on his heart. I craned my body around, to the drawer behind my head and pulled it open, hearing clashes of silverware. What luck. I rifled for a knife then sawed his shirt, beginning at the neckline. Once that part was torn, I ripped the rest with my hands, splitting the cotton unevenly down the middle. I clapped a hand over my mouth, gasping.

Veins webbed all across his chest and stomach. They must have covered him in entirety. I guided his hand away from his heart—which the vessels actually circled around, like they didn't dare to touch the cardiac muscle.

I leaned over Joseph, sliding a hand along his bristled cheek. Relief was sharp in my stomach as I realized he was breathing. Shallowly. His eyes were barely open, dull hair strands attached to his lashes. “Joseph,” I urged in a desperate whisper. “The medicine. Where's the medicine?”

And when he didn't answer, “Joseph I need to know where it is. I need to—” I stopped myself short when it was evident he wasn't going to answer. I lifted myself to my feet, moved slowly around him, then dashed upstairs.

Damn it. Darkness filled the hall I stood shivering in, teeth chattering. Being so used to hot weather, the low temperature effected me greatly. I ran a hand along the wall as I moved forward blindingly, uncertainly, splinters catching into my flesh. Two glowing circles appeared in the distance. I watched as they vanished and then, a slice of light pierced the black.

The light came from a door left ajar. With my mind fogging over, I stumbled inside what had to be Joseph's bedroom. 

My eyes were drawn upwards.

There was a large hole in the ceiling. Not any hole. It was carved out of glass, letting early afternoon sun bathe an unkept queen bed and the space around it in a circle of pale, warming light. Fidel, who sat upon the messy blankets, watched me with almond-shaped, yellow eyes, tail curled around him. If that bed was a throne, it would be fitting.

I scanned the rest of the room.

Crammed against the walls were stacks of books. As high to my stomach. They were all old-looking. Cracks in the covers and fraying edges as though he bought them from consignment shops. A wardrobe was next to the bed and on the other side a mini chest of drawers.

Fidel, with the grace of a feather, leapt from the bed and strode unhurried towards the chest. Bumping his whiskers against the side of it, he blinked slowly at me, tail beating the floor leisurely. When I pulled the top drawer open, he moved out of sight. 

Inside was a simple wooden box, the size of a shoe box. The contents caused me to rush into the hall.

My steps grew slow on the stairs. I panted heavy and loud, like a dog. What if a dead man waited for me on the kitchen floor? When my foot hit the last step, all my sense of balance crystallized to ice. I hurtled forward, the box flying out of my grip. Vials and needles rolled to Joseph's side.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Opened them. Black spots clouded my vision. Pain had erupted in my hands from when I tried to break my fall. Gritting my teeth, I used my elbows and tips of sneakers to propel myself forward.