Page 97 of Judas

“You assumed wrong.”

Not waiting around for the gears to finally turn in her head, I push past the woman and invade the trauma room with my presence again. Oddly, I typically like to hang out in the perimeter and refuse to make too much of a fuss over anything. Not today. Not this time. Not this girl.

“Sadie?” I call out, anticipating the tame sound of her voice. Yet when the silence settles in, I slow my approach. Brows sprinkled with silver crease at the quiet, the only sign of the turmoil progressing through me. Something is keeping me from closing the distance, whether that’s unease or not wanting to spook her. Hell, maybe it’s her soul warding mine away—anything is possible at this point. Seeing the family she was born into, a strong spiritual influence could exist inside of her. Like it does with her uncle.

Finally, my shoulders relax when I stop toning out everything around me except for her immediate body. The sounds of heart monitors keeping everyone alert to her existence. Should have known she wouldn’t give up. Not when there’s so much life, so much family to finally have.

“She’s definitely low on blood. The lab is running her blood type but we have O-neg on the way from the blood bank. It should be here within five to ten minutes. As soon as her levels increase, we will take her back to surgery to fix her arms. Doc hoped that she didn’t get too deep into her but she did. Oursuperficial suturing kits out here aren’t adequate enough to ensure she’s put back together,” Della explains.

“How long will all of that take?”

“Few hours on the transfusion, a few hours on the surgery. She will have to stay for observation for a couple of days. Her parents can make decisions after that.”

Great.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

It’s going to be a long ass few days.

Beast

“STOP!!! Stop it!” I screech.

Kate cackles and it rings so loudly in my ears, I can’t hear anything other than her ongoing shrieking.

The deranged spirit took over God knows how long ago and it’s terrifying. Not only does she not do something like that unless I’m in a dangerous situation or feels threatened, but this go-around she’s given me vague glimpses of my surroundings.

I saw my mom, then the inside of a truck, a sterile room, now I’m here. Where is here? I’m not sure. All I am able to focus on is the mushy sensation of Kate’s hands on me. She’s pulling, pushing, and turning me. Keeping my mind confused as every caress feels like her flesh is sliding over my bones. Nothing to hold her skin in place, just slipping with every grab.

“LET GO OF ME!” My voice grows more and more hoarse every time I wail. Wanting, begging, for her to leave me but she won’t. Pain enters me from all around, forcing me to my knees before I’m able to look at where the majority of it is focusedalong my forearms. Tears pour like volcanic runoff over the apples of my cheeks, dripping onto the ground beneath me. Fizzling as if the life under it is too weak to survive the scalding touch.

The skin down my arms splits open right before my eyes. An invisible shard of glass or a knife starts up near the ditch and trails down in long lines of dark red. The movement repeats a few more times, until the flesh is utterly shredded by the time it stops. I’ve never cut before, because I always found outlets for my pain. Sports, running, putting my body through the wringer. Anything as long as it was unseen, just like my hysteria.

Kate rushes up from my peripherals and grabs my arms, dragging me up off the floor where I can only stumble. Pulling me with her as I fight and resist—trying to tug my blood-soaked arms and hands away from her blackened ones. Whatever she went through when she was alive, I can only imagine what it was like. Not something I want to experience if it’s going to leave me in a similar position she’s in—living in my fissured mind.

“Kate!! Stop, you’re hurting me!”

Pleading as loud as I can scream, they fall on her deaf ears. The place we’re at, it’s bright and a blur I cannot place. Feels like I’ve been here before, or somewhere similar to it. The luminance is just as intense as it was when the trunk lifted, and what I reduced to being a figment of my imagination. An angel, reaching inside the hollow space and saw me there—trapped. Whatever it was, it comforted me, even if briefly. It must have seen how dark my heart was, then chose to shut me away and allow the events that followed to happen. Punishing me for whatever I have done in another life.

Just like before, the brightness dims and I’m left in a space that feels much too big for me. Empty and dark, the onlylight coming from a small beeping plastic box that grinds occasionally. My tears keep my vision blurry; I’m just glad it’s not as blazing anymore. Living in the darkness, in the tight corners of my mind, is like hiding in the back of the closet again. Keeping myself safe from those who wield anger and accusations as easily as they throw around fake affection.

It’s so quiet in here, other than the methodical grinding of the small machine. Far quieter compared to the gale-force bellowing that comes from Kate. Instead of her miserable squalling, she’s sniveling in the far corner. Unable to see her, I can hear her, though. When you grow up in obscurity, your hearing improves along with your scent.

Hesitantly, my hands reach out and press into a texture that feels an awful lot like a threadbare blanket. It’s warm, much warmer than my hands are at the moment with my life force draining out of them. I shift around a bit, pushing the covering off of me and allowing my feet to dangle over the edge. Tips of my toes barely skimming the chilly floor beneath them—still unsure of where or what plane I am existing.

“Oh shit,” I snap.

Remembering the blood, I jerk my hands back, not wanting to transfer anything over to the bedding. Not knowing where I’m at, nor what she has done, I don’t want anything to lead back to me. It’s heart-wrenching, needing to cover your tracks because you don’t know what your body’s doing when you’re asleep. For all I know, she could have killed someone and it’s their blood on my hands.

“Kate.” I whisper-yell. Urging her to come back to me. I’ve not been this far away from her since she crawled into me like a snake, sliding down my nose and mouth and seeking refuge from the raw sense of existing. That day was absolutely terrifying as a small girl—I hid for weeks outside of going to school.

Something is wrong. Things are different, rapidly changing, and I don’t like it. I can’t withstand this sort of fluctuation. Immense change, when you’re used to sharing one body and mind, is intimidating. What is she doing? What has happened to me? Is something forcing her out, calling to her as if she were rushing toward sound when she’s sensitive to loud blasts and tolls? Is… is this God pulling her out of me?

A single step forward has me halting, the floor… it's so cold it’s beginning to hurt my tender feet. That’s when I notice that they’re bare, absent the socks I thought I was wearing when we went down to the coffee shop earlier. Th—then we went back to the apartment and crawled into the big-as-hell bed for a movie. Mom started to comb her fingers through my hair and I fell asleep.

Animalistic snuffling snags my attention back to the corner where I’m sure Kate is mulling around.

Wincing at the cold temperature of the flooring, I make my way over to my unwelcome passenger. That sniveling sound has got to be Kate. My left arm is heavier than the right; a soft pull on it prompts me to tug back and break free of whatever just touched me. Another sharp pain rips at the top of my hand but I ignore it. I’ve got to get to Kate, to bring her back inside before anyone sees the fractures.

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