Page 8 of Ruining Red
Chapter4
Teagan
Terror claws at my insides like white-hot pokers dragging across the sensitive membrane.I’m not sure if I’m screaming out loud or if it’s just in my ears ringing.Honestly, I can’t seem to understand anything going on around me at the moment.
It’s as if time no longer has any meaning.My grandmother’s movements are slow.Each twitch of her muscles reverberates until I swear I can almost hear them breaking the space around each molecule.
Colors fade, leaving the room in shades of black, white and gray.Is this what dying feels like?Clutching at my midsection, I draw my legs up, making myself impossibly small.
The words surrounding me are garbled, nonsensical, just a cacophony of noises that fail to penetrate my brain.Though I cannot comprehend them, I feel the violence as they slash at my skin.Glancing down, I study my arms and legs, convinced gashes will appear to spray the room in the vermillion of my agony.
But nothing happens.It’s as if I’m trapped in this bubble that forces me to feel everything, yet not suffer any physical effects.Closing my eyes, I grip my knees and lay my cheek down, rocking back and forth as her words repeat like an ill-fated mantra through my brain.
Unfortunately, everything now makes sense.It’s why I was ostracized, why no one in the village, my mother included, seemed to care for me.Bitterness wells up from deep inside my gut, burning my throat with its vile acid.
And here I thought I was set aside for a far nobler reason.I deluded myself into thinking I was marked for greatness.Now I see it’s the complete opposite.I’m a pariah, an undesirable.Yet, my mother made me live, and for what?To be the sacrifice for the village?
Instead of training to be the next matriarch, I am to die so that they may live in peace?Lifting my gaze, I force myself to look upon the people I loved most dearly.I allow myself to see the violence exuding from their very pores.
Since I still cannot understand the venomous words spewing from their lips, I can better focus on the physical attributes.I see it all — the clenched fists, the mottled faces, and worse of all, the abject fury blazing in their eyes.No longer am I some naive child thinking they only mean me good.
Their need to see me dead is all too apparent.Still, they creep closer, their hands clawing at me, desperate to tear me limb from limb.The only person standing between me and certain dismemberment is my grandmother, the great matriarch herself.
I’m not stupid enough to think she means well by her actions.No doubt she needs me very much alive for sacrifice.Glancing about, I note the door behind them, but there’s no way I can dart past and make my way to freedom.
That leaves the door off to the side.If I can reach it, I might have a chance.But then, where would I go?I only know of the village and the woods that separate us.Will I have to make my home there, where it’s forbidden?
My lips twist into a snarl as I purpose within myself to break any damned rule I have to if it means salvation.Again, I slide my gaze over, keeping my face blank.They can’t know the turn of my thoughts until it’s far too late to stop it.
As soon as my plan is formulated, an odd peace surrounds me, a serenity that cloaks me in its warm embrace, driving away the chill threatening to turn my heart into a shard of ice.I long to stay in this space, to feel the love and peace that infuses me, shoring up my resolve.But it’s a false hope, a dream that comes to you when death is nigh.I cannot allow myself to be dragged under by its siren call.
Adrenaline spikes through my arms and legs, forcing me to move.The moment I break free from the spell weaving around, whispering sweet promises in my ear, everything crashes in around me.Sounds, colors and sensations overwhelm me, nearly gluing me to the spot.
But I move.I have no choice.If I want to live to see another day, I must fight past my fears and just move.With a blast of motion, I leap from the floor, startling the crowd.I dart to the side and open the door, wincing at the blast of cold air.
The snow crashes down in earnest, coating me with wet, frigid flakes.I use the sting to further wake me up, to compel me into a faster sense of motion.From behind, I hear angry shouts, but I’m already on the run.
Without my cloak, I’m subjected to the elements.Each snowflake slams into me like tiny spears jabbing at my skin.Wiping my eyes, I force myself to press on, despite the numbness tingling in my feet and hands.
If I can just make it to the woods, I’ll be safe.No one will dare follow me there.I keep pushing, keep fighting, all the while, keeping my ear open for any predators that might snag me and drag me down to my eternal sleep.
When the first hand grabs me, I barely feel it.It’s a scrape almost, a flutter of sensation that spurs me on even faster.But it’s no use.Soon, other hands wrap around my arms, my waist, anywhere they can grab.
A pained cry slips from my lips, punctuating the night air.In truth, it sounds so similar to the wolf that howled earlier.Before I can even question what I’m doing, I tip my head up and howl again, this time, on purpose.
I pour out all my hurt, my yearning, my fear into that sound, allowing it to rip from my chest and release into the air.Perhaps some hidden part thinks that by summoning the wolf, I’ll find myself free.It’s madness, but somehow feels so right.If he kills me, ripping me to shreds, it will be a blessed relief.
As their hands claw at me, dragging me back to the cabin, I continue to howl until I’m hoarse.Even then, I still try, the sound raspy, weak, and choked with the tears streaming down my face.
But the wolf never shows.
I am alone.
Desperate.
Hurting from the inside out.
I gasp for air, but it’s laced with ice crystals, burning my throat as it fills my lungs.Pain bursts from every joint as hands claw at me, nearly tearing off my dress.My vision narrows as I stare up at the waning sun, doing my best to separate my mind from what’s happening by watching the myriad of colors painting the dull gray into brilliant shades of reds, pinks, and oranges.
