Peace.

Stillness.

Submersion.

I can tell I'm on the brink of existence, all thoughts fading away into that nothingness that has eaten at me all these years.

Finally, I can become what I always knew I was.

Insignificant.

Forgotten.

Gone.

In the distance, I hear chaos as it tries to break through this paradise of serenity. A thousand pieces of glass shatter on the floor. No matter.

I cling to the colorless fog filling me, replacing my pathetic life with a meaningless death. Ice-cold air hits my bare skin in a shock of movement, and the gate of my consciousness lifts. My eyes flutter back to life.

Crimson.

"No." My protest is weak, but fills me with dread.

The red eyes staring at me narrow, creasing at the corners, then lighten with a soft, comforting glow.

"You'll be okay."

I struggle to identify this face, one that isn't who I thought it was. Or is Lucien deceiving me again?

Unbearable pain shoots through my arms as something constricts around them. I whimper, rushing back in retreat to the fog, back to peace and stillness.

"Hang on," the calm voice mutters, and something soft and sturdy envelops me.

—

Before I can sense anything else, my forearms ache with a terrible burn. All my recent memories are seared with it—pain.

I can't tell if it's real or not.

If I'm alive, or not.

If I did pass on, does this mean I have to relive the cause of my death forever? Or will these wounds turn into scars, too?

My head pounds and my mouth feels like I haven't had water for days.

My heart sinks. I must be alive.

Awareness filters in of a world outside, specks dancing behind my eyelids. I absolutely don't want to open them. But, I'll have to eventually.

White noise. The weight of a blanket over my body.

Raising my head slightly, I peek down to see my arms laid over a quilt and covered in bandages. An IV sticks out the back of my hand and a band aid is wrapped around my thumb. A wave of exhaustion hits, draining any energy I thought I had, and my head falls back into fluffy pillows.

Lulling my head to the side, I anticipate bleach-white walls and a nurse in a hospital gown, but instead there's a lone coat rack holding up my IV bag and wood-paneled walls. The room isn't blindingly bright like I imagined the pearly gates, nor as white as an insane asylum. It's warm and woodsy, more like a cabin.

Curiously, a man is slouched against the wall beside the bed in a chair, head reclined and eyes closed. I don't think I've seen him before. One lock of black hair spills out of place over a pale forehead. He's asleep. A long black button-up coat hangs loosely at his sides, the collar folded and crisp around his neck.

Though I'm relieved it's not Lucien or one of his associates, anxiety spikes my senses. I can't imagine any sane person finding and rescuing me, only to bring me back to their house. People don't do that.

I have to accept my fate—I'm being held captive.

Mustering enough energy to roll my head to the other side, I find another wall. This room is pretty small. Like a prison. Yet unlike a cell, there's a window covered by a curtain. I can't see outside, but a small amount of daylight filters in through the edges and blends with the yellow light above my head. I don't see any bars on the window. Maybe he wants me to try to escape, that's the next game.

Why couldn't I have just died?

My eyes snap closed. There's no way out.

"Need more pain medication?"

The voice is calm, yet deep and sturdy like polished granite. The same voice that told me I'd be okay last night. I don't have to look to know it's the man sitting in the chair. He sounds as tired as I feel, but at the least he sounds human. I wonder if he's been waiting for me to wake up.

"No," I croak in response. I'm not sure what's being pumped into my system right now, but whatever it is, I don't think more is what I need at the moment. I'll take pain over unawareness.

"Good, because I didn't give you any."

Well, damn. Of all the henchmen, Lucien had to choose this one to watch me. I can already tell he's a sadistic son of a bitch, reveling in my pain. I swallow thickly, trying to reacquaint myself with the block of muscle that is my tongue. "Who are you?"

"Levi."

The chair legs scrape against the floor, followed by light footsteps that fade into the distance. He left. I didn't entirely expect a charming conversation, much less an answer, but the one he gave isn't much good if he's just going to walk out.

A minute later the footsteps return, and I peel my heavy eyelids apart. I may still be in the world of the living, but my body is slower than a walking corpse. I want to curse as an outstretched hand and dim crimson eyes peer at me from the side of the bed.

I recognize the eyes searching mine. His aren't as bright red as they were, but the shade is unmistakable. He's the one that saved me last night. Why the hell can't I get rid of those piercing red eyes?

He must be another one of them. Though I know the right word to use, I don't allow myself to think it. I switch my focus to the pill offered in his palm.

"Iron supplements," he says. "These will work gradually, and you'll need it when the IV comes out." In his other hand is a glass of clear liquid; the sight alone chases away any hesitation I might've entertained about taking the meds.

However, lifting my arm to take the pill is a much slower process than the decision itself. As I work to make my muscles perform the simplest of actions, soft cotton fabric smoothes over the skin on my chest and stomach. I tense; I'm only wearing a shirt. No underwear and no pants.

I mean, it's better than how he found me—stark naked, but I'm not excited about the lack of decency, either.

What was supposed to be a complaint comes out as a pathetic groan as my arm drops like dead weight back onto my lap. I barely manage to keep my head raised and grit my teeth. I wonder if there's a limit to how many times you can wish yourself dead in a day before it comes true. I'm certainly about to find out.

Levi's lips crease into a subtle frown. "Open your mouth."

Curse my helpless soul. I do as he says and part my lips.

He places the pill on the tip of my tongue, cold fingertips brushing by for the briefest second before they're replaced by cool liquid.

I don't even mind how desperate I sound, downing the glass in heavy gulps.

"If you keep that up, I'll take the IV out sooner," he says when I finish, pulling the glass away from my lips. "More?"

I shake my head no. The water tastes like the fountain of life itself, but I have to let my head fall back into the pillows. When I get enough energy to lift it again, I'll ask for another glass.

"What's in the IV?" I've been wondering ever since he denied giving me any medication—which I believe. The pain pounding through my forearms is no joke.

"Saline, calcium, iron." The chair creaks as he sits back down, and I let my eyes slip closed again. "You needed oxygen and a transfusion, as well as stitches."

I wait for the you're lucky to be alive, to which I fully plan on responding with a sarcastic scoff, but it never comes. I guess we both know, according to me, I'm not supposed to be alive right now.

"What about Lucien?" I might as well get it over with. Coming to grips with my new reality is never going to get easier, so I might as well take as many punches as I can in a row. I'd rather not wait and be surprised later.

Levi takes longer to reply than usual. I roll my head on the pillow to face him and force my eyes back open. His eyes lift from the empty glass to meet mine, dark and red...and sad.

Nerves are practically eating me alive by the time he finally responds. "I didn't sense him nearby when I found you, but I assume he'll be looking for you. It should take him a while to find where we are."

I frown. From that, it doesn't sound like they're working together.

Maybe that's part of their ploy. In any case, one thought springs to mind. "Then, what the hell do you want?"

Even though it drains the last of my strength, I can't keep the irritation out of my voice. If he's not working for Lucien, which I don't fully believe, then why did he go out of his way to save me? If I'd known having a death wish attracted the crazies, I'd have thought twice about it. These people, whoever they are, might not be human at all.

He sighs and looks down at the empty glass in his hands. "I don't want anything from you."

My consciousness fades back into oblivion ,and I'm left with more questions than answers.

He's back.

❤️‍🩹 Siberia