Bitter Blood (BBi)

Chapter 53: Undoing

Chapter Fifty-Two
Undoing

I wish I had written letters.

I could have left them somewhere my dad or Avery would've found them; by my bed or between the pages of my favorite book. I could have left goodbyes that couldn't be stolen. From me. From the people I've come to love. Just in case.

There are three days marked down in the dirt beside my shoes.

Two days ago I let Raina into Avery's house. Idiot, idiot, idiot. Yesterday she told me things I didn't know about my mother. Today I'm too weak to move.

The shed is empty except for me and the chair. The whole place smells of cooper. I can taste it in my mouth, feel the red substance on my skin, the new blood overlapping the old.

Last night I passed out somewhere between a scream and Raina's next cut. And then I woke to a burnt orange sunset and tears drying on my chin.

I'm a mess of a person, torn by terror and pain. I know that without even having to look in a mirror.

But I'm not a quitter. I didn't spend eleven years standing back up, dusting myself off, and stepping forward to die here in a rusty old shed at the hands of a stranger.

I lift my head and catch the last rays of the sun fading on the metal wall. Raina usually comes around this time for whatever reason. I twist my hands in my restraints like I've done for the past couple hours, pulling on my raw skin, squeezing my eyes closed and trying to slip the tight loop over the bones of my hand.

It's so damn close.

I hear Raina coming. Mainly because she's crashing through the undergrowth outside like a giant but also because she's talking to someone. Someone other than herself.

“I don't care.” she says. There's the sound of crunching leaves and rustling tree branches that occasionally block out her words. “You're staying... watch until eleven.”

A deep voice rumbles something in response.

“And you will. Just... hanging around until... done with her.”

Now they're standing just outside. Raina pulls open the door an inch.

“Go.” she instructs sternly.

As she opens the door fully the man she was talking to, who I guess must be one of the Werewolves she got to help her, stomps away into the forest.

One hand is all I need to struggle free. I can untie the rest. Raina steps inside and turns around to pull the door closed again.

I give my right arm a violent pull and feel the rope give.

She stalks across the room to me with that same knife in her hand.

She's had her fun, tortured me for as long as she can. This is it.

She grips the blade.

The world is suddenly claimed by a man's terrified scream, like he's seeing hell and hell is seeing him. It sends everything else quiet; the night birds, the creaking wind, my thundering heart. There's a roar that sings through my bones. It fills me with relief, with joy, with an overwhelming sense to cry.

Blue is alive.

And he has found me.

“What the hell is that?” Raina demands as the snarling becomes savage, wet sounds in the night. She backs away from the door a step, eyes wide, hands shaking. Maybe she already knows.

A grin breaks over my face.

“My Hound.” I tell her.

I rip my hand back and it slips out of the rope. There's a stunned moment on Raina's part where she can't move, a burst of victory on mine, and then I'm drawing that hand back and slamming the heel of my palm up into her nose, feeling it smash under the force of the blow. Blood splatters onto the cement.

She stumbles back and falls, the knife clattering to the ground. I can bend and reach just far enough to snatch it up off the floor. I shove the blade underneath the rope on my other wrist and cut it free. I'm frantically sawing through the last one left around my ankle when Raina staggers to her feet.

I stand from the chair and dive at her.

The painful talons of my countless lacerations are dragging through me, shifting my insides, pulling me forwards. I leap and latch and we go down together in a tumble of limbs.

I'm on top of Raina in a second but she's managed to catch my wrists, stopping the hand that holds the knife above her. She squeezes my torn skin until my fingers unwillingly uncoil and the knife drops.

I twist my arm and yank it out of her grip, using it to slam my fist across her jaw. She spits blood but doesn't let go. Instead she digs her nails into the soft underside of my forearm.

The fight is short lived. I'm not entirely sure how it happens but I know that I see a gap in her defense and that I use it to wrap my hands around her throat, to press my thumbs into her windpipe, crushing it in my grip.

For what she did to Blue. To me.

I am both dying and being born again.

Dying in pain and fear.

Born again as someone else entirely. Someone who will fight. Someone who will try everything she damn well can to survive.