Page 5 of Hollyhocks

“Well no, we don’t have to tell anyone, but Death would like to know.”

“I’d rather him not. He doesn’t need to know. I was the only one in that building anyway. Nothing he can do.”

“He can kill the guy who did this to you.” Lorcan opens the front door for me, bows, and extends his arm to show me inside. “Ladies first.”

I giggle for the first time in months, and it takes me by surprise. I stand still, hoping happiness is something I find again along with my self-confidence.

“Thank you, Lorcan.” I step over the threshold and stare down, noticing faces pressing against the floor. With every step, the faces scream and groan.

“Don’t mind them. They are the souls trapped in Hell trying to get free,” Trovian explains.

I stop at the bar, mouth agape as I take in Purgatory Pins, noticing all of the different paranormal creatures.

“Take a seat.” Lorcan slides a chair out for me. “I’ll get us all drinks and we will tell you everything we know.”

Without saying a word, I sit down, watching different creatures have fun while they bowl. Everyone laughs and cheers when someone gets a strike. The horror of what happened to me is still there, playing on repeat in my head, but being around others like me is healing in its own way.

This will be good for me. If I learn there is a way out of Purgatory to have a second chance in the real world, I might try to escape.

For now, my soul is in a safe space.

At last.

I inhale a deep breath causing dirt to invade my mouth.

Clawing at the worm-infested soil I’m buried in, I keep my eyes closed to protect them from the granules of earth. Wet gunk sticks under my nails as I fight my way free. My lungs begin to burn with the need to breathe, but I can’t. The pressure to get free has me fighting harder until I punch through the surface.

There’s a second where I don’t move because I’m shocked. When I feel the cool air make the hair on my arms stand, I place my hand on the ground to use it as leverage to get out of my grave.

My head breaks free, and I spit out all the dirt in my mouth, audibly gasping for air. My other arm becomes free and I’m able to flatten both hands on the ground, dig my fingers into the dirt, and drag myself out of the hole.

“Finally,” I rasp, rolling onto my back to catch my breath. The light escaping through the cloudy sky is enough for me.

I lie there for a minute to allow myself a chance to feel my limbs, wiggle my toes, feel the warmth of my skin, and appreciate my second chance at life in the real world.

Purgatory wasn’t so bad, but I knew I needed to escape. I deserved a second chance at life and now I know how to embrace my new self. When I learned there was a way to escape by slipping through a tear in time and space, I used my abilities to my advantage.

There was a couple in Purgatory who wanted to find a creature called the Avisseus. Apparently, this creature was the only one who could perform the tear in said time and space.

I followed the couple on their journey to find the Avisseus, using my chameleon ability to blend in with my surroundings. They never saw me. They never knew I was a step behind them.

And when they jumped through the tear, I did too, which is why I woke up in this grave.

This must be where the doctors buried me when I died in order for me to wake up here.

“I’m surprised they buried me in the first place,” I mumble to myself as I stand, wiping the dirt from my body.

There’s a part of me that wants to go to their facility to see if they are still there. I want to go on a rampage. I want to kill them all. I’ve dreamed of feeling the warmth of their blood on my hands, to hear them scream, to hear them beg, and to see them cry.

Just the thought has pleasure simmering inside me, a pleasure that has my tentacles slip free, curl up, and rub over my clit. There’s nothing more I want than to make myself come at the thought of my tormentors dying.

What if I had them on their knees, bound, and gagged? They would be sobbing for their freedom, and I’d be right in front of those doctors, legs spread, and getting myself off to their fear.

Yet there is a part of me that doesn’t want to go back. I only want to move forward and try to live a normal life— the best I can while looking like this. Some force tells me to pick the second option,

“Speaking of…” I talk to myself as I twist and turn, trying to figure out where exactly I am. “I don’t see the facility.” My brows furrow together and the leaves under my feet cause me to slip as I spin around again.

I inhale, using my enhanced senses to see if I’m anywhere near the place I was held. I don’t smell the wretched body odor of Glasses or the other doctors. There’s no death or fear hanging thick in the air like a poisonous fog wanting to suffocate me.

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