Two Eyes, Two minds, Two Fangs

Chapter 45

Check out my most recent story 'Fighting Neverland' - title subject to change!!

'What if Neverland wasn’t a place where you go to live forever as a child, but where you go to fight for the right to live life into adulthood?

When Avery Roberts dies on her seventeenth birthday, she finds herself transported and thrust into a dog-eat-dog world that she thought she had loved as a child; Neverland – but not as we know it. Had you imagined a second chance at life? Of course, life is a lot to ask, so there’s a big price to pay. Thirty people, just like Avery, want to go home, and are willing to do anything to get there; but that’s exactly the name of the game. Kill or be killed. Only one can survive, to survive.

Death changes people though… Is it worth the fight?'

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"What's wrong with him?" I demanded, hand shaking his roughly like it would make a difference. "What's happening?" my voice rose higher, louder, with every word. "What's happening to him?!"

My hand was pulled from his as a silent alarm rang, deafeningly loud, in my head. I felt that burn of the dream, the sting from my own fangs and the coppery blood in my throat, but even knowing what was to come, I couldn't stop it. I couldn't hold back the cough. Desperately, I tried to catch a glimpse of Nial's pale face as the nurses and doctors rushed about him, pumping at his chest, but the relentless and painful coughing up of blood made it impossible. My throat was so tight I could hardly breathe and tears of pain and frustration clouded my vision. I could see the deep red of blood though, see it on my hands, clinging to the longest sections of my hair, and splatters on the floor. Hands took hold of me. Pulled me away. Pulled me into a tight embrace. The smell didn't match either person whom I thought it could be. Not Leo. Not Hannah.

She forced a damp cloth in front of me so I could clean my face, my hands, while she worried uselessly in the background, my anger slowly simmering like jam in a pressure cooker, ready to explode. I silently cried as I cleaned myself of the worst of the blood, the coughing and vomit not lasting more than half a minute. I cried instead of shouting and cursing. All of my anger and hurt and frustration and anxiety showed itself in the form of ugly hot tears.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Before I realized it, I had slapped my hand over my mouth cursing my lips for calling her that. By the apparent panic on her face, she thought I might cough and vomit blood again, but when she saw none of it, she stepped back a single pace, confusion covering her face instead of that immediate worry.

"Lilah... What's wrong with you?" And as usual, she focused the attention and blame on me, not apologizing or even showing an inkling of regret. She just liked to be the victim I realized, even when my 'father' was just seconds away from hitting her. He rarely did, but often threatened to it.

"Nothing’s wrong with me." I put emphasis on the last word and added silently, it's the rest of the world that has a problem. A sudden mechanical screaming sound snatched back my attention and my eyes zeroed in on the flock of medical staff working around Nial. The metal pads they pressed to his chest gleamed mockingly as they passed the light, and when Nial spazmed as their charge was set on his body, I couldn't help but cry harder. I tried to get close to him, to see him and his still face but I couldn't. A faceless doctor blocked my way, his mouth moving but no intelligible words coming out. The only thing I could hear, when a tide of utter relief smashed into me, was the levelling out of his heart monitor. That high pitched scream than rang in my ears broke off and a slow, almost melodic beat took its place. A tension that I hadn't even realized was there dissipated and the frazzled looking medical staff relaxed from around Nial's still, slowly breathing body, a deep sigh drifting from my lungs as all of my panic evaporated. I couldn't help but give a tiny smile as all of the medical team filled from the room after completing some tiresome checks and tests. It wasn't until I was sat back s his side that my mother, Diana should I say, spoke. I had almost forgotten she was there. Almost, but not quite.