Page 85 of Ashes

The walls. The ceiling. Everything was fucking red. Except the black leather sofa and accompanying furniture. Bookcases lined one wall. There was a fireplace with low flames crackling.

I breathed out as I pushed onto the sofa.

“What is this?” I asked, blinking as I tried to keep my head together.

“Your reward,” the ward who’d spoken before said softly as he leaned down and wrapped a band around my bicep to give me a dose of something. “Or your punishment. Depends on how you look at it.”

I swallowed thickly. “Since when do wards get to administer drugs?”

“Since you scare the fuck out of the nurses,” he answered, pushing a needle into my vein.

I didn’t even bother to fight him. If it killed me, so fucking be it. I clearly wasn’t one able to make it through pressure and trauma, so it was what it was. Hallucinating shit wasn’t helping me, so I may as well fucking die.What good was I like this?

Fuck it.

The high of the meds hit me hard and fast. I let out a soft groan at the pleasure, every fiber in my body coming to life.

“What’s this drug?” I asked, licking my lips.

“It’s some tainted form of a new drug they’re experimenting with. You’re the lab rat. Good luck. You’ll need it once the dose kicks in.” The ward moved away and left the room without a backward glance.

I lay with my head on the back of the couch, watching as the red swirled above me. I felt like I could fly if I wanted to.

Stumbling to my feet, I ambled over to an ornate mirror hanging on the wall and stared at myself. I looked like I was made of colors. The aura ebbed around me in varying shades, pulsing and pounding as if it had a life of its own.

I continued to stare at myself, taking in my dark eyes, the fading bruises on my neck. Gingerly, I touched the bandage on the side of my face.

I did this. I’d cut off a tattoo. Or maimed it enough to render it unrecognizable.

Nausea churned in my guts before the pounding of the high pushed it down. I winced beneath the pleasure. This had to be a different drug. I hadn’t seen colors before. I hadn’t felt so. . . invincible before.

The door opened, and two more wards came in pushing my angel in a wheelchair. I stood staring as they wheeled her in. Quickly, they lifted her out of the chair and placed her on the couch then left us without a word.

I blinked rapidly, trying to get my mind right as her head rested on the back of the couch, her focus someplace I knew I’d probably never be able to reach.

Staggering forward, I fell to my knees in front of her.

“Angel,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

My reward for being so good.

I reached out for her and brushed my fingers along her soft skin. She didn’t even flinch. She simply continued to stare at the nothing only she could see.

“Angel,” I choked out again. “Baby. Hey. I-it’s me. It’s Sti-Stitches.”

I grasped her cool hand in mine and gave her a gentle tug to sit her up. She couldn’t sit upright on her own. She simply flopped back against the cushions, her body limp.

“No,” I called out, my voice trembling. I got to my feet and sat beside her, her hand still in mine. “Angel. Sirena. Hey. Baby, it’s me. It’s Stitches.”

She didn’t react.

I ground my teeth, anger racing through me.

“Malachi,” Sully’s voice called out.

I snapped my head to see he’d entered the room. I’d been so focused on her, I hadn’t heard him come in.

“Sh-she’s not responding to me,” I said thickly. “Is she really gone?”

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