Demons of Abyss - Retribution

Chapter 13

ELEA

Something flows into my mouth. I choke and cough. My throat hurts and my chest tightens. Every muscle, every tendon, every inch of my body aches. My left eye still feels like it was ripped out of my face. I open my right eye. At first, my vision is blurry. A shadow is above me. A few seconds later, my vision clears and I recognize someone. My mind is foggy, and it takes me a moment to recognize Levi. His blond hair is tied behind his head and a crease appears between his eyebrows as he surveys me with his dark brown eyes. His beard has grown since we last met. He looks tired.

"Girl, what have you been doing?"

He shakes his head and immediately reaches behind him into his suitcase and pulls out a small bottle. On his hands he wears blue disposable gloves.

"I've been patching you up for an hour now, and I always keep finding something else."

He presses his lips together like he's angry. I really want to hate him, but he seems concerned. There's a warmth in his eyes that I wouldn't have expected in a Demon. I look down at myself. I'm still wearing my underwear. Just my underwear. Then I turn my attention back to Levi, who is now pouring some liquid from this bottle onto a swab. On his arms I recognize squiggly tattoos. They are branches intertwined and at each branch end is a mark. As he looks at me, my attention returns to his face.

"Now that you're conscious, it's going to burn like hell." He seems to be waiting for my approval, so I try to nod, not quite succeeding. But Levi understands me and right after that I feel the burn on my ribs. I hold my breath, only to have it collected and forced out of my lungs with a hiss. I close my eye and take another deep breath. It feels like a belt is being tightened around my rib cage.

"Your ribs are bruised. Your ankle is swollen. Your index finger is broken, I straightened it and splinted it. Your nose was cracked, I fixed that too. You only twitched once, you were so out of it. Your pretty little head definitely got a concussion and I don't even started on the bruises and other bruises. The cut on your ribs and the laceration above your eyebrow still need stitches."

I nod again and then try to speak after all.

"My eye?"

He pulls something else out of the case and I see a needle with a thread on it. He holds the curved needle in his hands, he looks at me and I nod again. Then he puts the point to my skin above my ribs.

"Even though it looks bad...it will be okay, but right now, you have to hang in there."

So I hold my breath as the needle penetrates my flesh for the first time. It hurts. Damn it hurts, actually. I concentrate on not tensing up. Nine stitches later, Levi knots the thread and cuts it with scissors. I exhale in relief. I'm glad it's over, but at the same time I have to remember that he still wants to stitch up the laceration above my eye.

"Why are you patching me up, if I'm going to die anyway? So you can torture me some more?"

I have to clear my throat several times between my words because my throat is too dry and hurts. Levi is currently putting a white band-aid over the wound on my ribs before looking up at me reproachfully.

"You killed two members..." He pauses before removing his bloody gloves and reaching for new ones. "... Usually, that means you're executed." He pulls on the new blue gloves and reaches again for a swab and the bottle of disinfectant. "But you also knocked out one of our best fighters and made a big impression on West."

"Then, what are you doing to me?"

Worry intrudes on my thoughts. I knew I wasn't going to get out of this alive, but now the uncertainty of what they're going to do to me, does weigh heavily on my stomach. They're going to do something cruel to me. They will patch me up to torture me again. That's typical of these Demon-pigs.

"I can't tell you that, girl. I guess West will explain it soon."

I imagine the most terrible things, but I will have to endure them. I don't want to go without a fight. I even consider taking Levi out. But with my condition, I wouldn't even be able to harm a hair on his head. Besides, I have no idea where I am. Now do I look around. Above me is a light wooden ceiling. The walls are painted an ivory white. Apart from the bed I'm lying in, there's only a chair, where Levi is currently sitting and a small table, on which his suitcase is lying.

Levi dabs some of the disinfectant on my forehead, where the laceration is, and I hiss, drawing air into my battered lungs. It hurts more than the wound on my ribs and I almost lose consciousness again. Somehow I manage to hold on and after six stitches Levi cuts the thread. He takes off his gloves and throws them into the suitcase, along with the rest of his clothes. He doesn't say a word until he has cleaned everything up. Then he turns to me and eyes me questioningly.

"What's your story? Why would you do something crazy like that, and where the hell did you learn to fight like that?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, holding back the tears that are about to make their way to freedom. I think of Bear, my surrogate family. Of my life with them. Of the hours I spent training with Bear and Ben. I think of how the rest of my life will be torture.

"Where did you learn how to patch up a crazy person?"

I try to dodge his questions, though he probably didn't expect to get an answer anyway. I'm really interested in why a Demon can do that. He smirks at my counter question, but then looks at me with warmth in his eyes.

"I had a life before the Demons, was a medic in the Marines and then started training to be a doctor...somehow I ended up here. Every club needs someone to patch them up."

He winks at me like we're not in this messed up situation right now. Like Levi isn't a Demon. Like I wouldn't be the one, lying injured and hostage in a room just waiting for the King to pass judgment on me.

"What about the girl?"

He looks like I've slapped him in the face. There's a sudden hardness in his brown eyes, that I haven't seen in such a short time on him. He stands up and turns to his suitcase before folding it up and locking it. He wraps his fingers around the handle and lifts it off the table.

"West will give you time, to get your strength back. He needs you operational. I'll check on you."

With that nod, he turns, and I'm left clueless. What about the girl now? What did they do to her? Why did he react that way? And most importantly, what does this mean, that West needs me operational?

I remain lying on the hard bed for a while before I try to sit up. It hurts. All over. But I cannot continue to lie idly on this strange bed. Nausea rises in me. I find myself with the people who did terrible things to my parents. With great difficulty, I manage to lift my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up. I make a low moan as I do so, as even my butt hurts. There are two doors in the room, and I'm sure at least one of them is locked. Still, I have to give it a try. So I slowly put my feet on the floorboard and carefully let my weight on it. With one hand I hold on to the headboard of the bed. It takes me three attempts before I finally stand on my feet. I keep my left hand next to me, because that's where the splint is on my index finger. I feel the throbbing in my finger, and glancing at it, I realize the back of my hand is glowing all different shades of blue. I'm wobbly on my feet and have to gather all my strength to take one step at a time. I head for the door through which Levi disappeared. Locked. I had expected that. So I set my sights on the second door. I limp forward and lean on the wall with my shoulder. After what feels like an eternity, I reach the other door and carefully place my hand on the doorknob. I turn it and am surprised when the door opens with a soft click. It is dark, and I search for a light switch. It takes a while, but then I find it and right after that a round ceiling light illuminates the room. A bathroom, as it turns out. It is tiny, but there is a small shower cubicle, a toilet and a sink in it.

To my surprise, I notice that there are fresh things on a small shelf, next to the guard sink. I walk up to it and discover a wrapped toothbrush, toothpaste, soap and towels. I lift the towels, only to stare at a backpack. My backpack? Damn, how did those bastards get my stuff? A thousand things go through my head. They've been following us. They must have known where we were all along. All that effort of hiding was for nothing? Even though I'm so incredibly angry and disappointed, I actually think about getting in that shower. Blood is in my hair and all over my body. I'm sure it's not just my blood. It should concern me that I have killed people. Yet I feel nothing. Every time my conscience searches for the bad, the image of my parents pops up, and I feel pain, sadness and anger, but no guilt. Maybe I'm already too deep into my thoughts of revenge, that I don't even know guilt anymore. It's cold-hearted, but it suits me. Because if I were plagued by guilt right now, I wouldn't be able to kill Charly or any of the other Demons. But I want them all dead. I want my parents avenged. And I want to wash that blood off me. I want to wear my clothes again, even though it still infuriates me that they found my stuff and brought it here. Eventually I grab the soap with the other stuff and turn on the faucet. It's tiny, and I barely have room, which in turn isn't so bad because I can lean against the wall with my good shoulder. My legs shake and at first ice-cold water hits my skin. I breathe in hissing and welcome it. It wakes up my spirit. I rest my head on the back of my neck and open my mouth to moisten my dry throat. After a few seconds, the water warms and runs down my face. Glancing down, I see a red trickle running down the drain. I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the cold tiles. What am I doing here? What was I thinking? I thought I had a plan, and now? Now I don't have anything. My body is f****d and my revenge is miles away. Kilian is surely in some shithole or worse, he's already dead. This thought causes a stab in my heart. I really like Kilian. He understood me. He knew what was going on inside me. But what am I supposed to do, how am I supposed to act in my best interest now? I am a prisoner of the Demons. Thoughts buzz through my head as I wash my hair and brush my teeth. After a few minutes, the water turns colder again, and I wait until it is ice-cold. I slowly count to thirty and then turn off. I almost trip as I step out of the shower. My ankle is swollen and hurts like hell. Right now I can feel everything on my body, every single injury. I dry off and reach for my backpack. Then I put on some plain gray underwear and a pair of dark jeans. It takes me forever to get them on. Closing the pants button was by far the hardest part. I can't manage to fasten the gray sports bra, so I leave it off and reach for a black top. This is also a struggle because I can't lift my arms without feeling an excruciating pain in my chest. My body is really at the end of its rope. So I drag myself back to the bed, which is in a windowless room. The only escape is this door. But with my injuries, I wouldn't get far. My gaze falls on the small table and I discover Levi's necklace on it. They probably took it from me after the fight. But why does he continue to leave it for me? What if they really want to drug me and the contents in the little pendant could save my life? Confused, I shake my head and sit down on the bed. I lean back and close my eyelids. And even though I thought I wouldn't make it, I drift off into a fitful sleep. Images of my parents appear. And again the images of West. Of a raven rising into the sky. Of his dark, cold eyes and the fine line that stretches across his face.