Page 29 of Heal Me

People always say the silence comes before the storm, but no one talks about the silence that comes after the storm. The gut-wrenching grief and the lonely anger that threatens to dredge up new whirlwinds and crackling thunder. It keeps building, simmering, and churning, quiet and deadly.

I clench and unclench my hand at my side until something within me snaps. Spinning on my heel, I raise my fist and slam it into the nearest door. My blood buzzes with the need to go find a motherfucker to take my rage out on. Maybe the arrogant prick upstairs. Or Mikhail for not letting me kill Jan in the first place.

I stare from the gaping hole in the thick wooden door to my bleeding knuckles, then down the hall from where I came. Suddenly, I don’t want to hit something or someone. I want to hold.Her.

As I trudge back, the livid energy dissipates. In its stead comes a heavy defeat that settles upon my back like a hundred-ton boulder. Suddenly, I feel tired to the bone. I just want to lie down and take my little songbird in my arms, kiss away her pain, and rock us both to sleep.

But as I enter the room, a new burst of adrenaline shoots through me.

My quiet songbird, who was deadly still when I left her, is now banging the back of her head against the unforgiving stone floor.

“Stop!” I bark, rushing to her and shoving my hand under her head to block the impact. The force of her movement is startling. If my knuckles weren’t already bloody, they would be now.

Lifting her head again, she angles it away from my hand and slams it down again, aiming for the hard ground.

“No, no, no, what are you doing?” I say with horror as I move my hand in to soften the blow. With my other hand on her forehead, I block her head from moving as she tries to lift it again.

Tears gather in her unfocused eyes. “Just let me die,” she says in a broken voice so full of sorrow and defeat that it burns my heart.

“No,” I say with a force that gives rise to a surge of anger in her.

Throwing her hands up, she shoves at my arm and starts writhing. When she can’t get her head free, she starts clawing at her own skin, drawing new bloody trails across her stomach.

“Stop it,” I demand, moving my hand out from under her head to grab her hands. As I restrain her arms, she starts kicking and scraping her feet against the rough ground instead. “Stop!” I demand as I climb on top of her, but she keeps going, hurting herself as much as she possibly can.

This girl truly wants to die. The merciful thing to do would be to snap her neck. But I don’t do merciful. I’m selfish and ruthless. So I flip her onto her stomach, crawl on top of her, and trap her arms under her as I lower my weight onto her. With my feet pressed to her legs, I stop her kicking, and with an arm banded around her chest and a hand under her forehead, I block her head from moving.

She gives a few more jerks, but I have her fully immobilized, and soon, her fight drains, and grief overcomes her. Hollowsobs rack through her, making her shake beneath me, and tears trickle down her cheeks, dripping onto the stony floor.

“I’ve got you,” I reassure, kissing the wet trails and rocking her as much as I can in the awkward position. “Jan can’t harm you anymore. He’s dead.”

My words only seem to spur her grief. Her sobs grow more anguished, her breathing more labored.

“Just kill me,” she repeats in a voice devoid of hope. “Please”—she shudders as she tries to inhale—“kill me.”

“No.” I glance to the side to see a bundle of ropes on the floor. It’s only a few feet away. If I can just get her arms and legs tied, I can get her back to her cell safely. But as I try to reach for it, she somehow wrests her arm free and starts clawing at her skin again. If only she would scratch at me instead, I wouldn’t care, but seeing her hurt herself like this has me perplexed, furious, and feeling helpless in a way I never have before.

“Stop!” I yell and grab her tightly again, realizing I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. But I need to get her back to her cell—under thick blankets on a soft surface. Her skin is cold, and the floor must be scraping her skin each time she jerks against me. So when I hear footfalls in the distance, I roar for whoever it is to come down here.

“Get me a tranquilizer. Now!” I add as a guard appears at the door.

The guard rushes off, and within two minutes, he returns, handing me a syringe. Wasting no time, I bite the plastic cap off and jab the syringe into her neck. The few seconds it takes for the sedative to kick in are too long. Any amount of time seeing my songbird in such agony is too long.

“That’s it,” I croon into her ear as she goes slack beneath me.

“Please kill me,” she whispers one more time before the drug drags her down.

Carefully, I lift her to sit, supporting her listless body against me as I check the back of her head. An angry wound has me clenching my teeth. I’ll need to make a stop at Dax’s office to have him check on her before taking her back to her cell.

“Clean this up,” I order, gesturing toward Jan’s dead body. The guard is still standing in the doorway, scurrying to the side like a scared squirrel as I lift my songbird into my arms and head for the door. I pause three steps down the hall and turn. “On second thought, drag him into the main hall and let him lie there for a couple of days as a reminder of what will happen to anyone who touches my girl.”

20

LAVINIA

Something is pounding. A constant war drum going off in my head, expanding and growing louder as I slowly come to.

I try to keep my eyes closed and drift back to sleep, but new pains flare in my body as the thick fog lifts. My whole backside is burning, bruises and scrapes all over my body are stinging, and my wrists are screaming from the raw sores circling them.

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