Page 28 of Runes To Rain
Next time we summon that demon, it will be helpful not to worry about being interrupted. That way, we can spend the entire time focused on this critical work. Despite myself, I can’t help but feel honored by the way he reacted to my tattoos. Even though he was kind of an ass. Of course, it’s not like I’ve met many demons, so maybe they’re all like that?
I’ll talk with the guys about summoning him again after the concert and see what they think. The passage of time hangs over us like a blade poised at our throats. We need to make progress on our magic quickly if we’re to be ready on time.
BOUND
Ireturn to consciousness with a cry.
Every part of me is in pain.
Breathing is painful, the bright light is painful, and the sound of voices is painful.
My head hurts, but that pain pales in comparison to the pain in my stomach.
I whimper, but it turns into a scream as someone jostles me. I feel a sharp sensation in my arm, pressure there, and then everything blurs and darkens into unconsciousness again.
When I return to consciousness and my eyes scrape open, I see a ceiling above me and feel a bed beneath me. There are others in the room moving around. The room doesn’t spin, but my vision is clouded.
One of the people, a healer, moves to the side of the bed. As they get close, I feel my instincts rebel. I struggle only to find myself bound to the table.
For a moment, the breath freezes in my throat, and myinstincts desire to fight. In that frozen breath, I see the healer look at me. He has his hand on my shoulder, and there is something there. Not in his eyes perhaps, but behind them, or maybe something I can’t even see. That strange intelligence tells me there’s no use trying to fight, and I close my eyes again as the breath whimpers out of me.
As I’m resigning myself to being trapped here, the other healer does something to my abdomen. With the increased pain, the same instinct as before threatens again to turn my body against these two, even if, consciously, I won’t. As I win the internal fight again, the breath emerges from my lips as a sound even I don’t recognize.
The healer who was working on my abdomen stops, and as the waves of pain she inflicted wash over me, she moves into the cloudiness at the edge of my vision. I turn my head and try to focus on her, but whether it’s the drugs or the pain, I can’t make her out as she moves away from me. I close my eyes to clear them, and when I open them, she’s back at my side, this time with a cup in her hand.
She pushes the cup towards me, and even as I try to understand her intent, she is pouring the liquid into my mouth. I gasp, choke, and swallow a great amount, too much.
With that, the instinct I was fighting gets past my defense and makes its grand escape. Unable to stop myself, I fight my bindings despite the futility of it. Even as increased pain crashes through me, the room spins in a motion I’m too familiar with, and the two healers seem to twist sickeningly to the side.
All of the strength has gone from my body, and pain is crashing through me, tearing at my self-control. Just before the cloudiness thickens to pure black, I see the healers quickly continuing their care of my wound.
The next time I wake, the pain is less. With the decrease in pain and, what must be a change in the other drugs I’ve been given, I can understand words that are passing between others in the room.
I keep my eyes closed and listen as a voice I recognize, the one with the angry questions, says, “Self-harm is serious. If the mess of drugs we had her on before didn’t halt those urges, we’ll need to keep her bound or fully sedated.”
A different voice, maybe the healer says, “Last time she woke up, she fought the bindings so hard she tore her stitches and started bleeding internally again. We can’t risk a repeat of that.”
“So then we keep her sedated.”
“We told the person who committed her, Dio, I think his name is, that we would help her recover. There are others who have reached out to ask about her. I think Fem and Lent. How long do you think it will be before they follow through on their words and actually visit her? If they see her like this when she walked in here on her own two feet, do you think they’ll feel like we’ve actually made progress?”
“No one knows how an addict will act when they’re confronted with healing. Self-harm is one potential outcome.”
“We both know the drug cocktail she’s on isn’t helping with herhealing,sir.”
“What are you saying? Hmm? That I don’t know my own job? That the degree on the wall in my office doesn’t mean anything? That you, ageneral healer,know better than me?”
“Nothing, I’m saying nothing,” the voice is quieter, breathy, and overwhelmed. “I just hate it when they hurt themselves.”
“I know. I’m sorry I snapped. The orders come from above me. We just do as we’re told, whether we like it or not.” The voice is gentler but still commanding. “How about you see to getting that wound healed, and we’ll keep her sedated until she’s ready to be back on her feet.”
I hear the person whose voice I recognize turn to leave, but before the door closes, he says, “Like we talked about before, we can’t take any risks with this one.”
Then the door closes. A moment later, I feel a sharp prick in my arm, and then whatever drugs they’re giving me pull me back into unconsciousness.
DIO’S JOURNAL - ENTRY 173
Annum:5614
