Page 37 of Fallen Thorns
Then everything changed. My breath caught and I staggered back in shock, choking, as a heavy growl clawed through the back of my mind.Hungry.
That wasn’t me.
That wasn’t me.
Help. What is happening?
It’s okay, just drink the bag and you will be fine.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.I’m saving myself.And Mars was just outside.They will help me if I need them.It’s okay. All good. All fine.
So hungry.
I shook my head, eyes tight shut. How did I manage to let it get this bad?
Breathe.
Feed.
Save yourself.
Surely this isn’t meant to happen… it’s not that bad… it’s not…
Free.
It’s so crowded in here.
Oh, what a sight! I’m so privileged. This, this right here, is a spectacle. A marvel. I’ve witnessed my fair share of performances, but this has to be up there with the greatest. His little face contorting in despair. I can hear his cries even from my distance. Feed the body! Those pretty, soulless eyes. The beautiful, powerful presence manifesting as he tears open the bag and desperately swallows every last drop. I have never witnessed a change of this kind before. I’m glad I chose this one.
He gags back the remnants of the bag, tossing it aside and wiping his mouth.
But oh, that’s not enough, is it? He has waited far too long! Interesting. He disappears from the window and into the frosted side stage where the movements are so sporadic and extravagant, I almost let out a cry of joy. A crimson delight. A bath of vermillion light.
But oh dear, is that the door I hear? His little friend pounding their un-beating heart out. So, what will he do? Let them in? Oh no, that would be such a disappointment. No, here comes the twist. The audience gasps as he returns to the room, painted head to foot in delightful colour. Teeth fully grown and back hunched, he looks back at the door and hesitates for dramatic effect — audience on the edge of their seats. He turns to face us all, before pulling up the window latch and jumping out three stories high, landing in the abyss of darkness below.
I gasp, eyes wide with pride. He’s coming.
It begins.
It hurt.It hurt more than dying. I felt my soul shredding.Where are my shoes? How did I get here?It’s so cold and dark.
More.
I was running, stumbling, my legs carrying themselves in sought of something. Something?Power.
My head. Get out of my head!
There was blood and mud on my hands and arms. So much blood.How did I let this happen? Mars said they would help, that I was doing the right thing—
Oh, shut up!It pounded my head, and I was silenced again. Every second, I was losing grip of the tether still holding me down.
Mars never said it could getthisbad.There’s something inside my head.
I don’t think this is meant to happen.
Maybe this is something different.
My body dragged itself out into the street, silent except for the occasional whisper of leaves in nearby trees. Street lamps flickered, the cobbles cold against my bare feet. I tried to stop, but it was no use, I was absent in all but a tiny square of my mind. Arlo’s consciousness blacking in and out as themonsterasserted its dominance.
