Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16: CRIMSON TEAR

She was sure this is where she would die. She was sure the ice cold table and tight leather straps would hold her dead, limp body forever. Her fear clung at her heart and tightened her throat, causing each breath to become a whimper. With red vines weaving her body there was little fight she could put up, nor did she have any that still resided within her. It had been drained from every inch of her body as soon as her senses expanded past her feet. The pure shock had led her to easy capture, unable to move a single muscle as her senses ran over the form that rushed at her. Her lips tightened, pulling back to reveal her teeth. The words upon the wall in her home covered her mind.

Do Not Trust The Man You Trust The Most

How could she forget? How could she have been so naive? She struggled weakly against her binds, but the leather straps cut into her red vines and shot pain throughout every nerve. She relaxed as much as she could, her spine pressed against the table and her arms pinned to her sides. She pondered if her current state was reality. If the traitor before her was going to laugh it off and say it was all a test, which she undoubtably failed. Her fear restricted her. Unacceptable and disgraceful, whispered the inner most of her mind. But was she to do? Fight? Kill? The very thought of feeling a loved person's blood against her flesh made her skin crawl; then again, the circumstances weren't normal. Clearly this loved person no longer loved her and her skin had ceased to exist within her current form. Her fight continued seeping from her like a wound as he pulled a table with surgical supplies upon it next to her. Knives, syringes, scissors of all shapes and small, tweezer like supplies sat against the metal top. She swallowed hard, her senses running over the form before her as it approached and reached for her sash that, regardless of its ripped, torn, stiff, and burned exterior, had managed to protect her eyes. The gruff hand ripped it away without a second thought and Katara snapped, pulling the sash from the firm grip. Did he not know what he was doing? A small, mocking smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

“I'm terribly sorry Katara, it seems you've been lied to.” She growled, pulling her lips up tighter, her white teeth flashing. But her growl fell short, her snarl slipped from her features as he spoke the words, “Your eyes will never heal.” He allowed that to sink in, but arrogantly she shook her head roughly; he was lying. She would never believe him. Her reaction caused him to laugh, his smug smirk taking over his features.

“Oh, you don't have to believe me if you don't want to. But we know,” he chuckled, turning to the table of supplies and taking the syringe. “We know.” She stiffened as he ran a hand across her chest, sighing.

“Sadly we will not be able to wait for you to pass out from the serum within this.” he pressed the needle into her neck, forcing her breathing to come to a stop and grope helplessly for air. The liquid pressed into her vines, flowing through the bloodstream that connected each one. When he pulled away she coughed, whimpering.

“Sadly we will not be able to wait for you to pass out..”

Shock reached for her heart, realization dawning on her. Quickly she sent her senses across him as he reached for a knife. She scowled, her tail splitting into several parts and turning to a point out of rash instinct, reaching for his neck. But as the time came to end his life, her hesitation doomed her. Her vines stopped just short, allowing him to turn on a heel and slice the vines from her. She howled in pain, writhing in it as it flooded her like water, engulfing her body. Her claws scratched at the table, her muzzle distorted with pain. He shook his head, a disgusted frown pulling down his face.

“Pathetic. You wasted your last chance.” he smirked, “Though we have found something new. It seems there's a deeper side to you than we had analyzed.” His smirk widened into an all out bloodthirsty grin, “The part of you that wishes to kill.”

He strode over and rested his hand on her stomach, “Let's see this inner side of you, shall we?”

Desperate to buy time, Katara forced words from her mouth, pooling them into drunken slurs.

“Silwah,” she whined. His hand that rested against her, as if to restrain her, lessened its press as he glanced over in her direction. Hopeful, she tried again.

“Dodtoo, woo-ee?”

He rested the blade carelessly against the end over her collar bone and felt as she went stiff.

“It's nice to hear you speak,” his pleasant smile took his features as he pulled his blade through her, cutting down to her pelvis. Katara gasped, choking on breath, blood spilling onto the table and covering his hands. The smell and taste of copper filled her mouth and nose. He let out something like a giggle, as if mocking her.

“Don't worry, Kat. I'm a doctor.”

Jeff could barely remember arriving out the house. The howling sirens and flashing red and blue lights still crowded his mind. Her cold, dead eyes stared at him behind it all. He closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his brow. Slowly he became conscious of the wooden boards below him, the sawdust that slipped between his toes and had already managed to cover his legs. Above him, a plastic cover protected him from the glaring sun, with slight, miniature holes cut into the material. As he continued glancing around, he found why. A make-shift fire was placed in the middle of the room, smoke slipping out through the holes. The building that held him seemed barely able to hold its own weight, beams left naked and simple, wooden flats serving as walls. There were no doors to speak of, only cut out shapes in the walls that guarded him. The windows had not yet been cut, or there were simply none in the room the two stayed in. Suddenly words slipped into his mind and he realized Alex was speaking to him as she moved a pot into the room.

“..Even knew my name. Till moments ago, that is. I hope you don't blame me, those bullets hold a special poison which attacks the heart within moments. I've tried to get stronger, but it wasn't enough in the end.” Here she sighed, pausing to poke at the fire. It seemed as if she didn't expect him to answer, as if she was aware he hadn't been listening the entire time. He shocked her when he did speak, however.

“I don't blame you,” his voice was a whisper. Her eyes rested on him, as if it reassured her nerves. She smiled slightly, throwing the stick into the fire and fingering her gloves.

“I'm glad you don't blame me.” she managed to say. She stood and moved a pot of water to the fire, allowing Jeff to notice her gloves were no longer lathered with blood, but wether she washed them or put on an identical pair was unclear. Alex spied him watching her and glanced down. She sat by the fire and beckoned him closer, Jeff stiffly complying. He sat across her in the saw dust covered floor, looking at her gloves curiously as she fingered the ends. The black gloves clung strangely close to her fingers, the joints in a few places too boney to be healthy. Alex herself, though, did not appear to be under fed.

“I was-” she started, the paused, looking around, fearful of something. She sighed and began again, “I was attacked. Another from my school attacked me.” Her jaw tightened, fists curled. “He used her. Is still using her. He used his pet to fight for him, cause he's too much of a coward to do it himself.” She lifted her right glove and bit down on the tips, pulling the glove off and letting it fall forgotten to the ground. Her eyes were ablaze.

“Look at this!” she howled, her voice a deadly mix of violence and betrayal. Jeff stared, astonished, unable to speak, let alone breathe. Alex smiled cooly, “Do you know how hard it is to grow entire fingers back?” He swallowed hard, peering at her hand, the fire casting a glow upon it. The smoke filtered out through small holes in the tarp above, but jeff still felt as if he was chocking. Her fair skin was ripped viciously away from the bone, revealing a bloodstained mess against the skeleton of her hand. The skin was ripped from her middle finger down to her ring finger, torn in a slant across both. The middle showed the tip of the bone, pointed and stained with dried blood. Where the skin was alive the end was raw and pulsing, muscle and veins alike showing at the place where alive and dead met. Her ring finger was cut to its first joint, skin loose and ripped, falling around the mauled finger like dead meat. Her pinkie was completely gone. Whatever skin or bone that had once been there had been taken from her violently. Alex stared at his horrified face and laughed bitterly, “You haven't even seen the worst part yet.” She turned her hand so her palm would face him and vomit clogged his throat. He swallowed hard, but was unable to look away. Every bone and muscle in her hand was visible from underneath. The skin had been completely shredded off, through some still fell loosely around it. She moved her fingers slightly, or what was left of them, and he could see the grotesque, bloody mess of muscles tense and tug, allowing the bones to be pulled in certain ways. A strange, clear goo was slathered over the open wounds, creating some sort of protective shield to allow the healing to go undisturbed. Or so he thought, for the blood and broken veins did not bleed out. He could only imagine the pain she went through every moment of the day. She lowered her hand and looked it over herself, her eyes defeated.

“The damage was worse,” her gloved hand touched her chest. “You were able to see my ribs. My lungs. If you looked closely, even my organs could be glimpsed at.” She winced at the thought, her face distorted and shadowed dramatically in the light. “It took me days. Dragging myself with two fingers on one hand, and one finger on the the other, pulling myself away, till I finally got to water. I thought to myself, 'I heard drowning was the most peaceful way to die.' So in I went. But I couldn't die. I wouldn't. And I was pulled down the stream and landed ashore in some farmer's yard. My chest had mostly healed, but the problem was clothes the hide what had not been healed. They had been mutilated in the attack. I'm sure he thinks I went and died somewhere.” She closed her eyes, “And so I stood. I stood and forced myself to walk. At this time, I could not let myself die. My very being pleaded for it, the process of healing myself over days, none stop, had burdened my muscles. I was stretching myself. I was at my limit. I couldn't go on, I couldn't breathe, but I did. I sucked in lungfuls of air and made my muscles move. In the tangles of corn I found the scarecrow rise up off the ground. On its shoulders rested a beaten jean jacket,” she tugged at the one she wore, the move of broken fingers and disconnected bones touching the fabric causing Jeff's stomach to churn once more.

“So I took it. It's torso had beaten jeans and I took those as well,” she glanced down at the mutilated jeans, covered with sawdust and dirt. “My previous ones had been covered in blood, so I left them in the field. And after hours of walking, eating uncooked corn straight from the stalk and finding heatstroke at my door, I finally came to the run down cabin that served as a home. My hands were still grotesque and, though the jean jacket helped, there wasn't much else under my shirt.” She glanced into the fire, seeming undeterred about telling this to a male. “So I slipped to the back, where clothes were hanging on the line and snatched a black shirt and some gloves a sap had left on the deck. The roar of a car had startled me off into the fields again, and from the safety of the stalks I watched as a family pulled into the driveway and walked inside. A bike had been strapped to the back of the large truck, and, tempted, I sprinted out to take it. I pulled the back down and was slipping the bike out hurriedly when a second pair of hands grabbed the bike and lifted it up and out. I was scared. I stared at the man, absolutely frozen, afraid for my life of what he would do. He smiled at me, then reached for my hand and touched the ends of my missing fingers. He must have seen the glove sag unnaturally and knew my fingers were missing. He helped me down and spoke to me in a fatherly voice, 'Now, don't go wrecking this bike.' He smiled again and patted me on the back and said, 'And don't be a stranger. You go do what you need to do.' With that he walked off and left me the bike. I jumped on and rod off.

“It took a while for me to figure out where I was and even longer to get into town. When I rode in to town, I found that I couldn't go home. My mom's probably worried sick and is doing everything in her power to find me, but I can't go home. I don't want to get her involved. I don't want to hurt her.” Alex sighed, standing and placing a collection of items into the rapidly bubbling water. Pine leaves, flowers, tiny pieces of meat, along with a collection of other greens that resembled leaves. She pulled out a ladle, rusted along the handle and stirred the soup. She then pulled her glove back on.

“So I found this place. Lack of funds makes it a place for the homeless. You'll find at night we have neighbors in other rooms. I stole some school kid's backpack, though I left all his belongings, and snatched things from stores to sustain myself. I found the ladle in a garage sale.” She chuckled half-heartedly, “which would explain a lot. It's not much, but at least it's enough to keep me going. I also snatched a book on plants so I could see what and what not to eat.” She smiled at him, stirring the pot again.

“Who did this to you?” Jeff asked, surprising himself with how tense he sounded. Alex looked at him, Jeff looking up from his hands, “And. How did you survive?”

“Survival's easy for a healer. It's keeping yourself together that's the hard part.” Jeff nodded, understanding, though didn't get the full answer he wanted. Before he could say anything Alex spoke again.

“It's the whole faith thing, you know? I don't understand how people can keep their faith during times like these. You wonder how the Big Guy let's this sort of stuff happen. Not just to me, but people like me. How he could let people die, let so many horrible people win. Let this black-souled people hold control in their hands. Everyone says everything's going to be okay, oh, you'll be okay. But it's not okay,” her voice had slipped into bitter sarcasm, “How come twenty-one students had to die? How come that shooter was able to escape? Why didn't I die with them? Why-”

Jeff's grip upon her shoulders shocked her to stop. His eyes were engulfed in fire, “Listen,” his voice was harsh, low, “without you, Jess would've never told me she loves me. I didn't even know she thought about me like that.” His eyes grew sad, “Without you, I would've never known. Clearly you're here for a reason. You were able to bless me.” His tight grip loosened as he pulled away, Alex still staring at him in shock. At last she managed to murmur, “And to think. I thought this was a one-sided conversation.” She earned a slight smile from Jeff who chuckled softly.

“So did I,” he said. Alex glanced towards the door, or what served as a door, letting out a heavy breath.

“She was going to talk about the school, or, had already mentioned it.” Jeff sucked in a painful breath as she continued, oblivious, “I don't know of anyone who would've shot her but the school. To silence her. But, that doesn't even make sense. If they shot her, then everyone is suspicious of the school.”

“They have all the power they need. They don't need to act like anything happened,” Jeff chipped in, “they silenced the one person who questioned them. And now they can go on looking like a normal school.”

Alex shook her head, “That makes sense. But they're so demonized. I can't see them ever doing this cold-heartedly.” She handed him the ladle, “No bowls. Careful not to get cut.”

“But they already have, Alex,” he took the ladle and sipped some of the soup. Plain but filling, due to the collection of plants. “No bowls, you said? What about spoons?”

Alex shook her head, “Only so much I can carry.”

“And two can carry more.” He smiled broadly at her, dipping the ladle in once more. The rust drew blood and Jeff watched as the crimson tear fell down into the mix.

A smug smile twisted the lips of the sadist as he watched the boy before him tense with anger.

“I kissed her, you know,” he said in a low drawl, enjoying every word of it. “I took her first kiss, something she'll never forget. How could you ever kiss her knowing her lips once touched mine?”

The boy scowled, “You leave her out of this.”

“Oh?” He laughed heartedly, “She's the whole reason for this! She's the reason that woman had to die,” he gestured to the stage, clouds overhead dimming the lighting and causing the blood to look like wet paint. “Oh, but you aren't listening, are you? You're blocking me out, praying for Katara's safety instead of your own. Listen, Samuel!” His twisted smirk widened, Samuel's face distorted with disgust, “I'll do my best to make you understand her pain.”