The Void

Chapter Five. From Punishment Blooms Power.

The blood they fed me during my initial unconsciousness that came in the moments after my rescue has healed all of the superficial wounds that I possessed but, despite all the sleep I have gotten, it hasn't lessened the harsh pounding of my head.

The throb of constant pain doesn't distract me from the violent reminders of what has happened over the last few days. I can feel their fangs digging into my flesh every time I dare to relax, forced to remember the way their cold fingers dug into my muscles and contorted me in whichever way they wanted.

I have felt used by the world plenty throughout my life, especially after Mum died and it felt like the world had crushed in around me. There was no break to grieve after she died, so many years of moving around and running from a ghost meant that I had nothing to hold onto and no one to hold me.

Until Monica went from an acquaintance to my best friend, to roommate and our lives tied together as we fought for every single inch of progress we made. I supported her through her turbulent relationship, and she showed up every time I got hurt.

We're both alone now.

It's obvious that both Selena and Kyle have found themselves somewhat enamoured by the warmth, the connection that seems to tie us strangely together. They're deluded if they think they're doing it for me more than themselves, like an addiction that has these predators treating me to careful touches and fragile glances.

Yet, on my fourth morning of this unwanted stay, I wake up to the company of my migraine and nothing more.

The room around me is dark despite the light that streams underneath the door, but my eyes ache with every blink regardless of the brightness. I may not have had the most stable childhood, perhaps thoughts of death have followed me more than I want to admit but being so close to the actual embodiment of death makes my stomach turn.

Nor does it make me thrilled to be a prisoner in their mansion of death and blood-sucking. These walls might be thick but there isn't safety within them and that is the only reason why I haven't wrenched open the door and made a run for it.

Why I let Selena and Kyle have their fill, holding me close when the hours of separation become too great for them, letting Selena teach Kyle how to weave braids into my faded pink hair. I'd be an idiot to think I could get very far without someone ripping open my jugular but that doesn't mean I am enjoying my time within this room, in fact, the distinct lack of any kind of mental stimulation is starting to get to me.

Forced to think about all the farfetched plans I had never quite committed to, all the ways I was determined to fix myself and improve Monica and I's life, get out of the sketchy apartment we lived in. Stay out of the hospital long enough to get a second job and ease some of the weight Monica has in looking out for me, even if she never complained.

Those plans seem so silly now, like I should have known it wouldn't ever come to fruition, nothing about my life has ever gone to plan and yet I've allowed myself to be shocked by this place.

I still prepare to wince every time I move, waiting for the waves of scorching pain to wash over me, even though it's been days since I've felt it. It's confusing to be healed on the outside and still so raw on the inside, it's all I can think of half the time.

At this point my stagnation is beginning to irritate even me, not a hard feat when I am my only company but still.

My fingers pull at the loosened threads of the satin sleep shirt that Selena gave me, a far cry from the second-hand apparel in my own closet at home and less outrageous than Selena's first pile. It was to her displeasure that I requested clothing that didn't include leather pants and a tight fitting cropped shirt, apparently shocking that I wanted to be comfy for my confinement.