Читать книгу The Undying Truth - C J Higginbotham - Страница 11

Chapter 6

I wake up to an unfamiliar room that’s cream in color and have dim light from a window next to my head. My muscles are stiff, but I manage to move my neck to look at my body. I notice my arms are skin and bone, and my heart starts to race. What happened? I see an IV in my arm, and I follow the red tube to a bag that has blood in it. Confused, I force myself to sit up. My bones pop, and my muscles scream in agony.

I’m hungry, is the only thought that I can think of.

I take the needle out of my arm and drink the rest of the blood in the bag. Needing more, I search on the floor. I find a pile of empty bags on the ground, but none are filled. I stand up and walk to the door. I hear Ezra, Cara, and Mom lightly talking and giggling. I hear the steady heartbeat of Mom, and I open the door. Everyone is in the dining room outside of my room. As they all stare at me, no one speaks.

“Blood,” I try to say as loud and clear as I can. “I need blood…” But my throat is sore and strained. No one moves. They all stand there, staring in fear of my existence, it seems. I hear mother’s heart beating faster and faster. My eyes start to pulse faster and faster, and I try to take a step closer to them, thinking I didn’t talk loud enough.

“In the kitchen!” Cara yells with panic in her voice, pointing to her right.

I start to move toward the direction and find sixteen-ounce bottles of blood on the floor by the refrigerator. I kneel down and start drinking bottle after bottle. I feel the blood rushing to my bones, my face, and my muscles. I stop after twenty-four bottles. I notice my family staring at me, horrified. Feelings of shame, confusion, embarrassment rush to my head and stomach. Not knowing how to react, I stumble out the door.

The smell of trees and acres of loneliness invite me into the woods. As I approach the woods, I fall, feeling the soft grass under my legs and palms. The warm sun falls on my body like a warm blanket. I feel a lump in my throat from the mistreatment from my own family. How can they treat me like this? Ezra, I understand, but Cara yelling in fear like that?

I force myself to stand up despite the stiffness and pain from my body. I sprint into the woods. My muscles in my feet, legs, arms, and back start to pull and rip every step I take. I feel my body trying to repair itself almost as fast as my muscles grow. I don’t stop running until I stop feeling pain around my body. I decide to sit down and catch my breath through my sore and underworked lungs. Sitting there, I notice how small my clothes are, and I have the sense that I’m somehow in someone else’s body. That is the only explanation. Could I have grown this much? I start to calculate the time of the journey. Six years was how long we traveled. I was eleven. I’m seventeen now, almost a full-grown adult. I’ve missed out on my childhood; it’s been taken away.

Why is this happening to me? I fall to my hands and knees and cry, remembering my dad. Why would he do this to me? This is all because of him! The pain—all of it is because of him. Tears start to fall, knowing that I just want to have one last conversation with him. Flashes of his last moments go through my head—the blood coming out of his mouth, the cuts all over his body. I look up at the sky and yell as loud as I can, tensing my whole body, and all of a sudden, my shirt rips open, and I hear and feel popping on my ribs, stomach, and back. I feel something brush across my chest, and red move instantly past my vision.

I fall to my hands and knees, again frozen in pain. I feel my body healing. Then I stand after I stop feeling so much pain. I touch my ribs, confused by the pain. I notice that the pain started in my back close to the spinal cord. I flex the muscles in my back, and a weird pain shoots down my spinal cord and into my legs; it’s intense. It is like a foreign part of my body that has never been sore before. I can’t walk around in pain. I have to fight through this. I have to get better. I can’t live my life dealing with this pain forever. I have to fix and fight through it. I flex my back again as hard as I can, hearing a harsh cracking and pulling around my shoulder blades.

Then I see it in my peripheral vision. It’s a wing!

I turn around, scared, feeling like I’m in danger, but nothing is behind me. I breathe heavily, trying to calm down so I can relax my body. I feel something touch my side, and my heart jumps as I reach down and grab whatever touched me with all my strength.

I pull harshly and feel pain shoot through my back again, putting me into tears. It is so intense it knocks the wind out of me like a hard punch to the stomach. Then I realize the wings are attached to me. The revelation puts my head in a knot. I start to see the area spin as I try to breathe through it.

Wings? How can this be? My stomach starts to twist up like I’m about to puke. I lie down on the soft cool ground. The sun is starting to set as I get to my feet. My wings are curled around my body, overlapping each other. Touching them, I feel soft little hairs that are sensitive to the touch. The top of my wings is solid bone. Attached to the bottom of the bone is the smooth, soft red skin. Moving my hand side to side, I feel bone then more skin of my wings. The look of it reminds me of something a dragon would have.

I hear my dad’s voice in my head: “Don’t be out past dark. The night seekers will get you.”

I hear it clearly, even though last time he was telling Ezra. I smirk at the thought of being able to hear his voice again, realizing that maybe they are real. My dad’s voice has always given me the feeling of protection. If I have wings, anything can be possible, even beasts like night seekers. I start to walk back home, but as I get to the house, I remember the look my family gave me, just for drinking blood. They would never accept me if they knew I had wings.

I close my eyes and picture the house as detailed as I could.

When I walked out of the room earlier, there was a green carpet with a wooden table on top of it with four chairs. At the end of the table, my mom sat with a white dress with roses on it. To her right was Cara standing up, talking to them with a blue shirt and blue jeans. To Cara’s right was Ezra in ripped blue jeans and a black T-shirt. To the left of me was the stairs. After the stairs was the kitchen, in the kitchen was the fridge. Right beside that was the door I ran out of. On the right of me was an opening to the living room and a door next to the opening.

I realize I’m at the door that leads to the kitchen. Despite it being almost nighttime, it should be easy to find my way to my room. As I walk to my window, I pry it open and slip through and land on my bed. I look around for new clothes and see nothing but empty bags of blood. The bed has a blanket I can use to conceal my body with. I put the blanket around my shoulders, making sure it covers my body so I can walk out of the room.

I don’t look at anyone. I just walk past them and grab the rest of the bottles of blood and walk back into my room. How can I get more clothes? As I drink my blood, I think that the only possible way is to steal from Ezra. I hear everyone outside of the room say good night to one another. I drink more and concentrate my hearing.

I hear someone walk into their own room. The doors close, and I concentrate harder. I hear someone lie down for bed. That has to be Mom, because no one falls asleep that early. Even after hearing her heartbeat, I still do not find myself longing to drink her blood. I hear someone else sit on their bed. I hear a slight high-pitched sound coming from their throat. They swallow hard, then take a deep breath. I know that this is Cara because she is the one who is likely to cry. So I know what room Ezra is in. I can sneak in there. I won’t be able to take his clothes till tomorrow. As I wait for Ezra to fall asleep, I listen to his breathing pattern and heart rate. From what I can hear, he is working out.

I walk out of my room to the kitchen and see a bathroom in the kitchen to the left. In the bathroom, I see a mirror that is small. I take the time to really look at my wings. I close the door and drop my blanket. I try to stretch my wings out to look at them. Moving muscles you were not born with is a bigger challenge than I realize. I finally get my wings loose enough to separate them from my body. I relax my wings and lightly grab them this time. The red skin is sensitive to the touch, but the bone has less feeling in it. I feel down to the tip of my wing and find a very long, strong, and pointy bone. It is very sharp as if my whole life I have been sharpening it.

I try to focus on moving the spike—from my forehead to my nose to my chin. Then I slide it down my skinny body. At first, it’s difficult, and my movements are very stiff. I accidentally cut myself trying to control my movements, but after a while, it becomes easier. I try doing it with my other wing, and it is difficult at first. I end up making cuts on my forehead, nose, chin, and body, but eventually, it gets easier. After moving my wings in different angles, I realize I can move any specific part of my wing. This will make flying very difficult trying to move certain parts to glide through the air.

I’ve been so amazed by my wings that I realize I haven’t been paying attention to Ezra’s heartbeat or breathing. I focus my hearing again, and I can hear his soft snore. I sneak upstairs with my wings around my body and no blanket on. I am nervous about getting caught, but now I trust my hearing to know that everyone is asleep. I open the door and grab a shirt. As I am about to leave, Ezra starts to wake up. I freeze and look at him.

“Dad?” Ezra says. I can’t think of anything to say. Even if I do say something, I don’t sound anywhere close to dad’s voice. “I know why you are here. It’s because we haven’t been able to accept Levi, huh? I know he is my brother, but he is different and aggressive. I don’t know what to do or how to even act. I’m so scared.” He starts to stand up, and I know he will find out I’m not Dad. I’m not trying to impersonate him, but I can’t just disappear. I would feel guilty taking his opportunity to talk to what he believes is Dad. I can’t escape. I rush to his side. I put my hand on his shoulder and guide him back to lie down. This is the only thing I can think about doing to not give anything away.

I move my hand across his head. I’m angry and hurt. I can’t blame him. He feels scared, and I did it to him. He used to overpower or control me. Now I’ve killed someone and attacked Mom. I’ve also taken them away from our friends. I would hate me too. It isn’t fair for anyone. I know Cara feels the same way. He starts to fall asleep to my comforting gesture of pushing his hair back. When he finally starts to snore, I sneak out of his room.

I lie in my bed, where I silently cry. I hate this. I hate all this. I feel lost and misplaced. Nothing seems real. I feel like I am still sleeping in this horrible dream. Why is my life like this? I just want to fit in and feel normal. I don’t even feel comfortable in my body. I don’t know who this person is. Who is this tall person with wings? I would rather be back to when I was being hit and bullied. At least, I had my family. Even if Ezra bullied me, at least he could talk to me. I miss Dad and having breakfast every morning instead of craving blood every second I am awake. I was strong enough to take the abuse, but now my family isn’t worried about me bullying them. They are scared of being killed.