The Darkness Within Her

Chapter 14: Personal to Me

“Tim!” I cried, my voice hoarse and my throat sore. “Tim!”

            I placed my hand over the gunshot wound, watching as blood spilled between my fingers. It was nauseating. The slick warmth, the way it clung to the grooves of my fingers, somehow finding its way under my nails. It was all the more sickening because it was his life slipping through my fingers. Quite literally. I looked at my hand, watching the flickering green fire. It was simmering, like when you cooked on a stovetop and put it on low. You couldn’t hear the flames dancing, but you could see the, just barely.

            Slowly, the flames rose. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. I imagined I could feel the E-cells in my veins crackling and popping with energy, racing to the surface of my skin. Distantly, I could hear crackling as my fire rose into high. Timotheus’s face appeared behind my eyelids. His blue eyes, the raven black hair, the splatter of freckles, the fire that made him look otherworldly. I forced the energy in my veins to transfer to my fingertips, the effort causing beads of sweat to break out across my forehead. This was harder than taking away my father’s life.

            I was in a room that oddly resembled a morgue. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the door was made up of green fire. In the room were several medical tables. All of them were empty except one. My breath misted in front of me as I exhaled. I crossed my arms and walked towards the body, knowing whom it was before I saw his face.

            Dad.

            I looked down at him. He was pale, almost plastic looking. His face was relaxed and calm, the way it hadn’t been in life. I reached out and placed my right hand on his chest; all too aware of the way his chest didn’t rise and fall. My skin was normal, with no flames. I took a moment to mourn over Dad – not for the man he was, but for the man he never was – before his entire body was engulfed my green fire.

            When I opened my eyes, I saw that green fire was sprouting from the bullet wound. I could feel the heat under the palm of my hand. Timotheus writhed, hissing in pain though he was too weak to actually cry out. It seemed like an eternity, though it was only a matter of minutes before the heat faded and I felt smooth skin under mine. Timotheus’s chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart tattooing a rhythm of life. I removed my hand and stood.

            Only then did I realize that Jon had been next to me, supporting me. His hand was wrapped firmly around my waist as I swayed, exhausted. His yellow eyes were wide with amazement, “Jaye.”

            “I didn’t know if that would work,” I said quietly.

            “It was instinct,” Jon gave me a smile. The skin around his left eye was red and purple, quickly swelling. “You didn’t think, you trusted your power. It’s the same as breathing, walking, living. You don’t think, it just happens.”

            “I’m so tired,” I said warily, my legs shaking.

            “That comes with time,” Jon said gently.

            “Jaye!” Heather called.

            I turned to see her standing beside a body on the ground. Leaning against Jon, we walked over. When we got closer, I saw that it was Lisa Hastings. I pried myself away from Jon to kneel next to her. Her face was wet with tears, her mascara smudged. Her lips were red with blood; the side of her throat was pulsing out thick, red blood. I expected to feel something for the woman dying in front of me, like the tug of pain that came from Dad and Caleb’s deaths. But I felt nothing.

            “Jaye,” Lisa swallowed, trying to not gurgle, “I’m sorry.”

            I raised my eyebrows.

            “I never would have done it, i-if there hadn’t b-been a chance you’d live,” Lisa gurgled.

            “You said I was the first one to survive X-27,” I cocked my head, “There was less than just a chance I’d live.”

            “You were a miracle,” a mascara stained tears slid down the side of her face.

            “I was an experiment,” I said, my voice hard.

            Lisa’s lips quivered, “It w-was noth-nothing personal.”

            I grinned, almost laughing at what she said. I could still remember that pain of nearly dying. X-27 had been holding my body together barely, and without it, it had collapsed. I had almost died. For the past six years, I had been barely able to move, to live. Stuck inside a house, unknowingly having my life shortened by more than half. “It was nothing personal”. A giggle bubbled from my lips before I said in a strong, sure voice, “It was personal to me.”

            I stood and turned away from her. I could hear her panicked breaths, my name gurgling from her throat, mixed with blood. I kept my back turned. I didn’t need empathy to practically taste the fear and desperation in the air. She wanted forgiveness. Forgiveness for her sins before she died. But I couldn’t forgive her. At least, not to her face.

            “Jaye,” Heather said lowly, “She’s dead.”

            My eyes fell closed.

            I forgive you.

            Heather wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder. We watched as Jon and Michael hefted an unconscious Timotheus between the pair of the, his feet dragging in the dirt as the carried him to the van. I looked sideways at Heather, whose red eyes were already watching me. She smiled, “Let’s go home.”

        A week ago, my home had been with Austin Stone. I had been frail and weak, sleeping and dying. Then a man radiating blue fire had poked me in the head, and my world had turned upside down. My home had become a place that was called Hope Insurance. A refuge for warlocks. I smiled at Heather, "Yeah. Let's go home."