Page 3 of Exile
There's no response, and immediately I'm back on edge. Turning around, I try to find something I can use to slam into the door. Everything is bolted down, but before I can figure out Plan B, the lights suddenly flicker on.
Low, deep humming confirms that power is now surging through the building, my heart hammering in my chest. Quickly, I rush back to the door, slamming my foot into it as whoever is on the other side does the same.
Come on, Byrone…
Seconds tick by, torturing me as our window of opportunity grows smaller and smaller. Bile threatens to rise up my throat as I wait, throwing my whole weight into the door for good measure. And to make it hurt.
Just as quickly, the lights turn off again, sending me back into growing darkness—but not before the sweet sound of a click grabs my attention.
Just in time. Good fucking job, guys.
The metal door creaks open ever so slightly, and I lunge for it, my fingers prying themselves into the tiny gap as I yank it toward me. It swings open forcefully, a body barreling into the room and colliding with me.
"Christopher?" I murmur in disbelief, glancing over him as he pants heavily, business shirt disheveled and hair a mess.
He straightens up, running a hand down his lower face in relief—which I instantly notice has no traces of blood unlike mine. Besides his hair and clothes being unkempt, he's oddly clean, not at all reflective of the bloodbath that just went down.
"We don't have much time. Come on," he says, jerking his head in a gesture for me to follow him into the corridor.
There’s no need to tell me twice. I'm out the door a second later, hot on his heels.
If they think it was a massacre before, they haven't seen anything yet.
Chapter 2
Avery
I stare at my palms with wide eyes, doing my best not to hyperventilate. High school was such a blur but it's strange the little bits of knowledge that reappear when you least expect it.
The day Miss Callaghan taught us about body anatomy and hematology, I was nursing bruised ribs after my father kicked me the night before. Until now, all I remembered from that day was how exhausting it was trying to breathe normally. In and out, controlled breaths, inhaling tiny sips of air through my dried lips while she rambled on about the human body. I thought I wasn't paying attention to her words, but somehow, my brain filed away some of the information for later use. I just wish it wasn't relevant for right now.
The human body has roughly one and a half gallons of blood.
Once, I spilled a carton of milk at home. That was roughly half a gallon. The mess sent me sliding on my hands and knees all over the kitchen floor while I hastily tried to clean it up before my father noticed—he always did though. It seemed like a lot of milk at the time, but now, my mind issplicing together that image with what I witnessed today, and suddenly, it feels like I saw more blood than milk.
How much blood can you lose before you are beyond saving?
Everything happened so quickly. In my almost disillusioned state, I barely had time to take notice of my surroundings.
But here I am.
It all looks so different—like a dystopian world, bereft and full of regret.
I must resemble a living nightmare for thenormalpeople that linger nearby. They think I don't see their terrified eyes and hear their whispered words… but I do. I don't blame them for being afraid. I'm scared too.
Sitting here, covered in blood, it feels like I've come full circle in life. Once again to my horror, I find myself at the hospital, tainted and covered in the ending existence of someone else.
Except this time, it's different.
I'm covered in my husband's blood.
My husband.
The words are still foreign to me. There was barely any time to register my shock when that bomb was detonated. It took every ounce of strength not to show the disbelief and confusion that flooded my entire body when I found out I was married. All I knew was that I had to hide my reaction from Alexander.
I'm married to Damon.
The man who haunted my nightmaresandmy daydreams. The one who, not too long ago, made me fear for my life. Who promised me nothing but pain and suffering.
