Page 89 of Ethereally Tainted

I can hear whispers echoing from all directions as I walk through the institute, and patients stare at me from every corner of the corridor. My appearance is not very flattering, with a swollen eye, unruly brown hair, navy blue ends, and less than clean clothes. Aside from that, I limp due to the pain I caused myself by self-injury. I’ve been picking at my skin for years, and at the moment, it’s a relief, but it causes me pain in the long run. The pain doesn’t stop me from continuing, however. I welcome the pain because it takes my mind off things.

My movements are sluggish and painful as I walk toward the cafeteria’s double doors, my head pounding while I feel like a zombie. The voices are getting louder around me, echoing in my head like multiple taunts. This was how it felt when I was in court years ago when they sentenced me to prison for murdering my mother. Every person in the court looked at me with a feeling of disbelief, as if I was some kind of outsider and didn’t have a rightful place in that society. Even though the people behind me had no idea who my mother was, I could still perceive the hatred radiating from their gaze and hear the rude insults they threw my way.

Neither of them comprehended that I was the victim and not my mother. She killed my father but got away with it, blaming his death on suicide. During my first few months of living with my mother, she took me to different psychologists for guidance after she took away the person I loved dearly. Everyone tried to explain that I had been left traumatized by witnessing my father take his own life. No one was willing to believe me when I said my mother had murdered him.

Who the fuck would believe a seven-year-old girl?

It hurts to remember my past now that the drugs they gave me are no longer in my blood system. I can remember everything clearly, no longer blurry like a window in a room full of hot steam.

I feel as if walking toward the cafeteria now is like walking toward the courtroom. I now remember that moment so clearly, how people spat at me as I stood in the middle of their seats as if in an aisle. I was a minor–a child–but still they treated me like a monster.

As I open the cafeteria doors, I see Jaqueline, Calvin, and Aubrey sitting at the same table they always sit at. But I can’t find Grey anywhere, and my heart plummets to the deepest depths of anguish.

Anxiety fills me as I slowly make my way to the table, wondering what kind of reaction Calvin and Aubrey will have after our last encounter. When I reach them, Aubrey looks at me confused.

“You’re here,” they whisper, almost relieved, before embracing me in a bone-crushing hug that makes me lose my breath.

I would have been grateful to receive a hug if the timing had been different. Now, the only thing I can think about is Grey. I sit next to Aubrey, ignoring Jaqueline’s stare.

“Where is Grey?” I ask them, hoping for an answer.

“Isn’t he with you?” Jaqueline snarls her reply with another question, and I fight to maintain my cool.

“Last I heard, he was transferred to the new program. His time is up.”

I tense up as Calvin’s words swirl through my head, making me forget whatever else is going on as my ears pound with blood and I feel dizzy. In horror, I stand back up and stare at all three of them.

“Are you okay? You look a bit pale,” Aubrey asks.

“I-I have to go.”

I lurch backward, my legs buckling beneath me from the force of Calvin’s words, a crushing sensation in my chest.

They already took him.

They took Grey.

I feel the urge to scream at the top of my lungs, but instead, I quickly spin around and run out of the cafeteria. Panic grips me, my emotions welling up in tears until I don’t know what to do. Every breath I take is accompanied by a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest that aches like heartbreak.

He is gone. Fuck, it hurts so much.

Before I realize where I’m going, I’m suddenly standing in front of Emilio Ricci’s office. The sign with his name on it outside makes my blood boil, and I let anger take over, suddenly realizing how good it feels to be furious. I storm into his room without knocking. Emilio Ricci sits in front of his computer, acting as if nothing is wrong, and I run up to him, grabbing his collar in my hands.

“Where the fuck is he?” I shout, gripping his throat until he struggles to breathe. The pain in my chest intensifies with each heaving breath I take.

“Where the fuck is he?”

I’m speaking in a hushed voice as I peer into his ebony eyes, but the venom in my words is still evident. The moment I let go of his neck, he stares at me with a look of calmness on his face.

“If you’re talking about Grey, then I’m sorry to tell you that he transferred programs. He didn’t want to say goodbye to you, so stop caring. He doesn’t care about you.”

“Fucking bullshit!” I scream so loud my voice hurts before I grab his throat again, pushing until he can’t breathe.

Oh, how sweet it would be to see Emilio Ricci fall apart under my hands, to see life slip from his eyes at my mercy. My hands squeeze tighter, his chest heaving with the fight to breathe, but I let the darkness inside me take over, that part of mecapableof killing another human being. All in the name of revenge.

The color slowly drains from his face until his body turns limp, but at that point, I see calm spreading across his face–no longer afraid that I will strangle him to death. When he looks past me toward someone else, a chill runs through my body, and my blood turns to ice.

Then I feel it. The familiar sensation of a syringe pushing into my skin before liquid fills my muscles, making me limp. Nevertheless, I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face as I watch Emilio take deep breaths, eyes widening as if he’s scared of me.

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