Changeling (Completed)

Day ?

Day ?

Light. Agony and emptiness. Why do I feel empty?

---

It hurts. My stomach, my throat, my head, my neck, it all aches and throbs and washes me in a sea of blind agony. My ears buzz, and I sink into the depths.

---

The abrupt jolt is unpleasant. Like an icy wash of foreboding and dread. This is not right. Something is wrong. Dreadfully. Tendrils of putrid, festering rot wrap around me, pulling me under. Another jolt. The tendrils withdraw, hovering. A screaming rush of air and they retreat completely.

Why is Death being so poisonous? Where is my peace?

I see only white. A familiar sight, but the feeling I am assaulted with is terrifying. Something is wrong.

---

Death hovers, fingers from the grave are searching over my skin. Grim seeks His Changeling. I call out to Him, but He doesn't answer. Someone else does.

"Innie!"

It's not possible.

I force my eyes open. His face is ravaged with tears. He looks aged and heartbroken. "Innie," he whispers.

This is wrong. "How?" I mean to ask him how many days, but my voice is a broken rasp, barely audible even to my own ears.

The alpha-wolf blinks, smiling through his tears. "You came back to me."

No. no! I am not supposed to go back! How many days? "Ronson?"

He shakes his head, still smiling. "Shh, sweetheart. Just rest. Rest my love."

"Thirty-one, Innie," I hear Benjamin's horrified rasp from somewhere else in the room. "This is the thirty-first day."

I start to sob in great, dry gulps through a burning throat. No, God, no. This is wrong. What is going to happen? Where is Death? Where is He?!

Noise, harsh and blaring. Large hands pin my shoulders down as the body revolts. I feel a sharp sting and immediately feel woozy.

I separate from the body. I stare down at my sleeping form. No, Ingrid's sleeping form. No, mine. Mine? Ronson is kissing my face, my hands held tightly in his. Benjamin is sitting dejectedly on a chair along the opposite wall. Two nurses and one doctor hover over beeping machines, discussing my body in low whispers.

"See, Ben? I told you she would be alright. She's a fighter, my Innie."

"You don't understand, Alpha," he whispers brokenly, but Ronson doesn't hear him.

I am sucked back into the body with a force that hurts. I moan from the crazy pain.

"Innie? Did you give her enough sedative?" Ronson snarls at the nurse. She whimpers and starts to prep another needle.

"No!" No to everything. No to it all. Thirty-one days?!

"Alpha, please, it's not going to help." Benjamin's tears are dripping down his face.

Ronson waves the nurse off. "Baby just stay still. Let your body heal from the trauma."

"How..." I mouth. I lick my dry lips. How did this happen? How am I still alive?

"Alpha gave you some of his blood and... Innie... he Marked you," Benjamin spoke over everyone else's answers.

"Wolfie-girl?" I whisper silently.

No answer.

"Wolfie?" I search my mind for that sweet, comforting presence, but find nothing. "Gone," I whisper.

"You were sedated, Innie, maybe she was affected. It might take time," Benjamin spoke again.

"No," tears slip down my cheeks, "gone." I'm all alone, now.

"Innie, go to sleep," Ronson sounded like he was being strangled. I fought it, I did, but the heavy fog pulled me under.

This is not supposed to happen.

Stupid boys. Being stabbed sucks, but waking up from being stabbed sucks even more. As you can tell, the whole 'waking up' thing is all new to me. Oh, and Death was not a happy camper. Sometimes, I wonder if he's still pissed? I hope it's with Ronson and Benji and not me. 

Love,

Innie

P.S. I know it's short. It's not my fault. Day thirty-one was spent awash in painkillers, so really it could have been thirty-three or forty-seven. I wasn't exactly with it, if you know what I mean.