Zoey stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She edged a bit closer to the glass, gaze fixed on her eye—or, to be more precise, the small veins and arteries in the sclera. She frowned as she realised Gwen was right: there was some purple there.
A chill went up her spine.
I feel like an alien.
She swallowed and touched the bandage that covered her other eye.
How bad is it?
She licked her lips and loosened the bandage. The fact that her eye didn't hurt anymore made her hopeful that she would be able to see the moment she freed it. Carefully, she removed the compress and closed her good eye.
She took a deep breath and opened the injured one, but the darkness didn't recede. Disappointed, she opened her other eye and her breath hitched. Her right eye was open, the sclera a mean, dark purple.
Her stomach turned.
That... That can't be good.
She was looking straight at her own reflection, yet her bad eye was looking down. She moved her head sideways, but the eye remained fixed in its position. Swallowing back the rising bile, she carefully touched the bruised skin around it. It was a bit sensitive, but it didn't hurt.
Well, that's something at least.
Slowly, she pressed her finger against the lower eyelid. Not feeling any pain, she poked her eye to get it to look forward but to no avail. She took a deep, shaky breath and blinked.
So, I can't see with it, it doesn't move, and it's filled with blood. How is this supposed to heal?
She poked it again, disturbed by how it remained unresponsive and that it didn't hurt at all. Her mind wandered to the spoon that she had used to eat her dessert with earlier—it still lay next to her bed.
I should get it and remove that eye.
She froze, the thought taking her off guard.
What? She shook her head and hugged herself. Why would I do that?
The mere idea of popping her eye out, of feeling it dangle on its optical nerve against her cheek made her lightheaded.
Oh, God, I'm going to be sick.
Without redressing her eye, she stumbled back to her bed and crawled underneath the covers.
Stop thinking about your eye. Stop thinking about your eye. She kept repeating it like a mantra, but the purple thing with a grey pupil kept haunting her mind.
-
The elevator doors to the twenty-third floor opened, revealing Khalida who had been waiting for Lucius to arrive. "You screwed up," was all she said, arms crossed, index finger tapping against her sleeve.
Lucius stepped out and his eyes drifted to his suitcase resting against the wall. The corner of his mouth twitched. "You're sending me away?"
"No, I took the time to pack your stuff to send it off for dry-cleaning."
Despite the situation, Gwen was unable to fully suppress a laugh as a muffled snigger snuck passed the hand pressed against her mouth.
"Well, glad at least one person finds the situation amusing." Khalida clicked her tongue. "Everything's been arranged. Your ride should be ready downstairs. Your plane leaves in a few hours, so get a move on."
YOU ARE READING
The Transcended: They call him Lucius
HorrorHorror // Novel // Completed ~ How far would you go to be free? What are you willing to become? ~ A decade of torture at the hands of the cannibal Lucius has left Amy traumatised. Yet, she remains resilient and is determined to find a way out of hi...