Cold Devotion | ✔️

Chapter Thirty-Three

Rose

We have been walking for what feels like the better part of eternity and I don't even know if we are going the right way. I am about to suggest that we turn around and take a different route but then see the roof of the facility. I don't think I have ever been more relieved in my life.

I let out a long sigh of relief as we near the doors. I hope that they got everyone else out and got them back safely. I don't know what I will do if I managed to get out myself but everyone else was still stuck in that hellish place.

"I don't think I have ever been more happy to see this crap hole than I have in my entire life," Colton breathes and I laugh at the irony. Both of us hate this place to death, even if neither of us will admit it, we know it.

"I think we should probably go to the hospital wing..." I gesture between us and grimace at our bloodied bodies.

"That's an idea," Colton raises his brows before placing his hand on the small of my back and nudging me forward.

***

I can't help the uncertainty that rises in me as we near the entrance, the fear that they aren't here or that something incredibly bad has happened. Taking a deep breath, I open the door and Colton follows closely behind.

I feel his hand entwine with mine and my unease is instantly soothed. Loud voices can be heard down the corridor and Colton and I glance at each other. We quickly walk towards the several voices, them getting louder with every step. "Someone get me a stretcher!" someone shouts as we round the corner.

The sight before me was almost enough to bring me to my knees. The amount of blood that covered the halls, the floor, the people. I felt the colour drain from my face and the bile rise in my throat. What in the world had happened?

A man lay on the floor, surrounded by several medical assistants, blood dribbling out of his mouth as he clutches his stomach. I will myself to look at the wound he is clutching and have to force myself to not be sick. A gash is cut so deeply across his abdomen that you can physically see his internal organs.

A woman, I recognise from the conference room we was in earlier, is covered head to toe in blood but has no wounds. I don't even want to know whose blood is covering her or how it got there.

So many people are injured, on the brink of death. How did this happen so quickly? How were they so easily overpowered?

I turn around, facing away from everyone. I can't bare to look at it anymore. I cannot bare to look at the death and destruction that has been caused by the rebels.

"I'll um... I'll be back in a second," I breathe, voice shaky. I turn on my heel and rush towards the bathrooms before Colton can even muster up a response.

As soon as I am in the bathroom, I go into one of the cubicles and bend over the toilet - readying to haul my guts up. The pain in my arm only intensifies the need to be sick. Breathe, breathe.

So many people are injured that it's hard to even comprehend. All of those people who were practically forced to go are now laying on the floors of the halls on deaths door. I can't get the image of that man sprawled on the floor, his guts out for everyone to see, out of my head.

The pain he must be in.

I throw up in the toilet as the images just keep on appearing and re-appearing. The people I killed. So many people. The one person who I loved more than life itself, who Michael had killed, my mother. The things they had done to Colton. The people who now lay, dying, on the floor in the most cruel way. At the hands of the most cruel people.