Page 41 of Phantom
I open my eyes slightly to see a terrifying devil made of fire with black pits for eyes standing right in front of us. My heart thuds in my chest until my own demon speaks, letting me know whoever this is can be trusted.
“Ben and Dr. Portia will be here shortly. Let them in. But only them.”
“What about her handler?” the devil responds in a smooth alto. “Can he come in?”
My handler? What does that mean?
My savior pauses for a second, like he’s asking the same question, but I feel the thick muscles in his chest tighten and his body say no before he does.
“Ben and Dr. Portia. No exceptions.”
My head is spinning and I’m exhausted, but whether that’s because of the pills I took, or the panic attack still trying to stiffen my muscles, I’m not sure. I desperately want to know what’s going on, who’s saving me, where I am, but my mind can’t hold on to more than the gentle lullaby whispered by the deep voice above me. It’s soothing and exhilarating. Heavenly and sinful, like a true demon of music, lulling me to trust him. I don’t fight it. For the first time since my dad died, I feel comforted despite the roiling pressure in my mind. I crave the acceptance of my demon’s embrace.
He ends the conversation with the flame-wrought devil and we enter a heavy steel door. It shuts behind us immediately, sucking all the light back into the tunnel. The lack of visibility doesn’t deter him though, and he walks several paces through pitch-black darkness.
“I will always protect you,petite muse. But with that being said, this is going to hurt both of us.”
Before I can really register his warning, bright lights blind me and I’m gingerly placed in a sitting position on cold tile and draped over porcelain. I open my mouth to complain, only to have two long fingers shoved down it.
Surprise, embarrassment, and revulsion rush through me like a freezing cold deluge of water. My body rebels against the foreign source. Without giving me a chance to fight back, he twists me to face the toilet I’ve been laid across and I violently cough out the contents of my stomach.
He kneels behind me and pulls my hair back, cradling me with one arm around my waist when he’s not forcing his fingers down my throat.
“That’s it, baby, you’re doing so good. I don’t know if the amount you took is fatal, but I know we’ve got to get that shit out of you. ”
“No. I can’t—” I shake my head but his large hand invades my mouth again while his body keeps me facing the bowl. Tears, snot, and vomit spew out of me and I scream at the expulsion. All the while that soothing voice tries to calm me even while my body fights him. Somewhere deep down I know he’s doing this for my own good, but god do I hate it.
Every time my body tries to hold back, his fingers stimulate the gag reflex I didn’t even know I had until now. We go back and forth like this for what feels like hours until the only thing coming up is bile.
I collapse against his chest, sobbing, exhausted, and thoroughly spent, my muscles in agony already.
“Shh… shh.” His gentle bass vibrates my back and he washes my face with a cool cloth. “You did good, baby. So good,ma chérie.”
His fingers caress my cheek and I shake my head limply.
“Please, no more… I can’t.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He gathers me up in his arms. “No more. I think we got everything out.”
I nod dumbly and let him pick me up again, settling me on my feet but keeping a strong arm wrapped around my waist for support. Thankfully, he turns off the light, soothing the migraine exploding in my head caused by all the purging. He turns on the sink faucet, even though the bathroom is barely visible. I don’t know how he can see to help me take a greedy sip from the glass he brings to my lips, but he does it easily.
“How can you see?” I ask, my voice is hoarse as it leaves my raw throat.
“I don’t need to,” he answers. “I’ve lived here for so long that I know where everything is.”
“Okay, well how can you seeme?”
A low chuckle huffs from his chest. “I’ve studied you for so long that I know almost everything there is to know about you.”
He cups my cheek before I can respond. Concern rolls off of him and although I barely know this man, my heart aches that I caused his worry. “What I don’t know is why you took so many pills. Tell me, Scarlett. Were you…” He swallows. “Were you trying to—”
“No! No, no, no.” My objection ends on a squeak. “I was just… scared. I… Ineededthe panic to stop.”
I sense him nodding and he kisses my forehead, sending the butterflies in my lower belly fluttering wildly.
“Never again. You’ll never put yourself in danger like that again. Say you understand.”
“I understand,” I repeat immediately.
