Page 1 of Monsters in My Bed
one
ALEXIS
Abrightlightgreetsmy death, and I sigh in relief—it must be a sign I’m not in Hell—but that’s before a burning sensation threatens to scorch the flesh from my bones. The pain is excruciating, as if the very Devil himself strips the skin off my body. It must be a punishment for not being better—a better daughter, a better friend, a better mate.
I open my mouth to scream, maybe even plead, but nothing comes out. Instead, the scalding fire rushes in, engulfing my insides in flames. The heat holds a familiar tang that coats my tongue.Blood.Presumably mine as I roast alive. All my other senses are cut-off, and I’m unable to hear or smell anything.
All I can do is feel.
The torment lasts a lifetime, and to my horror, I realize I must be in Hell. Never ending agony in an eternal loop of torture. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I wasn’t raised particularly religious, but damn if those Bible Thumpers in my town weren’t right about this place. It makes The Bowels of Vasuriad seem like a pleasant and temperate vacation destination.
The Bowels!
With a flash of recognition, I remember who I am and where I am. The vivid light encompassing my body is sinqol—a giant pit of it that Vizruk and Osz threw me in while I was in labor.But how can I be in labor?!I’m not even out of my first trimester, nor am I even showing. The last I checked, my stomach sported a small pooch more akin to a food baby than a real one.
With my eyes still closed, I push my hands through the viscous liquid that appears deceivingly thin. It takes a great effort to force them to my sides, but eventually, my fingers connect with my rib cage before inching toward the middle of my torso. When I touch the ragged edge of my split skin, part of me sighs in relief that I remember. The other recoils in shock, too afraid to explore deeper into the gash.
How deep is it? Where is my baby? How do I fix this? How am I even breathing?!
A million questions whir across my mind, one after another, and my panic grows with each one. Suddenly, the liquid around me shifts, and my muscles tense.Did someone enter the pool with me?But after a moment when no one reaches for me, I relax. The movement continues, and I think it might be the sinqol. A snippet of a conversation from a lifetime ago pops into my head. The Fallacious explaining to me about the blue substance in the vial he held—he called sinqol anorganism.
Does this mean sinqol is alive?
My brain churns up what little I know about the stuff. It helps my bogeymen see, as well as humans, but how, I don’t know. Although the glow from sinqol is bright, it doesn’t seem to hurt the Vasuras’ eyes. Quite the opposite, it allows them vision in this darkened world.But does it do more?The fact that I’m somehow still alive within it indicates maybe Osz and Viz didn’t toss me in here to die.
Irritation prickles along my skin, and it dawns on me that I’m no longer burning alive if I can feel other emotions as mundane as vexation at my twin monsters. I want to call out to them but am too terrified to open my mouth. How I haven’t drowned confuses the heck out of me, but I want nothing more than to be removed from this cursed pool.
But my wish isn’t answered. No one comes to rescue me, and I know if I want to get out of here that I’ll have to save myself. Behind closed eyelids, tears prick my eyes. What’s the point of having six mates if none of them can help me—not that I’m sure the twins would be much help. Those assholes are the ones who threw me in here in the first place!
Although the temperature around me cools from the scalding heat it once was, a fire sparks to life within me. It roars into an inferno at the unfairness of every terrible memory that bombards my mind. Not carrying that my intestines and other organs might be spilling from my stomach, I kick with my legs in an attempt to swim upward.
I don’t go far, but I do move. This spurs me into action, and inch by agonizing inch, I claw my way to the top of the sinqol pool. At some point, I open my eyes, stunned to find everything around me in crystal clarity. For some absurd reason, I was afraid it might burn, like the salt water from the ocean, but it’s like I’m not even submerged in anything.
All around me, the blue liquid dances and writhes, pushing downward. No wonder I can barely move. The sinqol sucks me down, but I’m not dying in this pool—regardless of the fact that I’m still breathing and somehow alive within it. There’s no room for rationale right now, just the unbearable need to escape the claustrophobic confines of the sinqol.
Who knows how long it takes before I even make up far enough to see the rocky ledge where Vizruk and Osz once stood. Another small eternity passes before I’m close enough to reach up, but when I try to pierce the surface of the pool, my hand presses against an invisible barrier. It’s like there’s a layer of ice barring me from being able to escape. Forgetting myself, I open my mouth, screaming in frustration, and in rushes the sinqol.
It fills my mouth, thicker than molasses, and tugs me back down. Not caring about my injuries or the futility of my actions, I kick and thrash in fury laced with dread. I was so close—so fucking close—but the sinqol doesn’t want me to get out. It wants me to sink to the bottom, where my watery tomb awaits.
My limbs ache with the exertion from trying to reach the surface, and any energy I once possessed slips through my fingers faster than someone trying to catch raindrops. A small burst of pointless ire flares to life within me but is quickly extinguished when the sinqol contorts around my frame, twisting itself in and out of my limbs, locking me in place so I can’t move.
And then it pulls, and down I follow, helpless to stop myself. I glance upward one last time, and I swear I see the shadowy form of my mates, but then I’m sucked down into the glowing abyss. The swift movement jars my senses, my eyes slamming shut as my center of gravity vanishes. The deeper I descend, the faster the sinqol swirls around me. My skin tingles at the sensation, a prickling awareness that makes the hairs on my body stand on end, even submerged in liquid.
Whatever sinqol is, it’s intelligent and doingsomethingto me. I want to lash out, but my limbs are heavy and my mind grows foggy the further down I sink. The only thing I can focus on is the bitterness of my defeat. It’s an acrid flavor that reminds me of all that I lost before I came to Vasuriad—and how much more is now at stake. My mates, my baby, this very plane of existence.
I fucked everything up before my monsters stole me away, and it seems like I’m destined to repeat my mistakes. But I’m not running away for once in my life. I tried to meet my fate head-on, but it’s a fickle bitch who doesn’t seem to care about my happiness. I thought I could make peace with my trium, but instead I just ripped it apart.
The tingling along my body turns into an itch, and then a sting, and thena burn. I’m back in Hell, which clearly begins the further I’m sucked into the sinqol depths. I wait for the unholy wrath of whatever demonic entity rules over the pools, but the fiery discomfort doesn’t linger. It licks over me so fast, I imagine this is what it feels like to be electrocuted. A zap of intense heat that steals your breath and stalls your brain.
But as quickly as it starts, it stops, and I can move my arms and legs again. The liquid doesn’t seem as thick as before, and my hands cut through the substance with ease. When they touch my stomach, the flesh is stitched back together without a scar. My skin glows paler than a fish’s belly in the light of the sinqol, and my gaze roves over the whiteness, not detecting a single blemish.
The scar from when I fell out of the thirty-foot oak tree in my front yard—gone. The mole on my right knee cap—gone—not that I’m complaining. Knee moles are definitely not sexy, but my markings from my mates? Those I adore…and like everything else, they’ve been smoothed over, my skin healed by whatever magic the sinqol possesses.
My hands trace a path up to my face, but freeze when I reach my neck. On both sides, the flesh slits open like gills. That explains why I can breathe, but only makes for more questions. Is the sinqol turning me into some form of a mermaid? The split in my legs confirms I don’t have a fish tail, so when did I get lamella?
Maybe the sinqol just cures anyone it touches, and instinctively knows I can’t breathe underwater.
The thought calms me a bit. Perhaps there was no murderous intent behind the sinqol or my mates. They knew I was in pain as well as in danger when they threw me in the pool. Knowing what they told me about Mark's mom, Viz and Osz were just trying to save me, and if the sinqol really did heal me, then maybe…
