The Carmen Chronicles: Rebirth

Chapter 1: The Sacrificial Lamb

Some say we must be grateful for our ability to feel pain. It tells our brain something is wrong, it alerts us to step away. To run. To heal. It reminds us of our humanity: our fragile, weak, humanity. When we feel pain, our primal instincts take over. The very hairs on our body stand tall, for a moment it's almost as though we have a second sight — we are able to sense the presence of danger around us. The brain registers the danger, and tells us to run. The brain registers pain, and allows us to feel it so we can treat our wounds. The brain has but one purpose: keep the host alive.

*

Every instinct in my body told me to pull my hand away from the immortal who stood over me; but I didn't listen. My brain was alerting me of the danger, telling me to run, telling me to hide. I didn't listen. Like a sacrificial lamb, I remained still in the darkness and accepted my fate. His cold lips lingered, hesitating for a millisecond, and then I felt my delicate skin tear apart under his razor sharp teeth like water being parted by solid stone. I shut my eyes tight and pressed my lips together as hard as I could, I didn't want to scream, I was determined my friend would not suffer with me.

"Benedict" I choked through laboured breathing as a strange warmth covered my hand.

Please, don't leave me.

I wasn't exactly sure what I had gotten myself into, I just knew I didn't want to die at the hands of my husband.

"I'm here, Carmen" he said as he took my hand in his.

But I no longer felt the chill I had come to expect from his touch, in fact, I no longer felt any coolness in my hand at all. My hand was hot, uncomfortably hot. I raised my head to find the source of my sudden pain - and instantly wished I hadn't. My eyes locked onto my wrist, where several small holes had pierced the now inflamed skin, forming a crescent-moon bite mark. And then, just like that, without any warning - my hand was plunged into the fiercest flames I had ever felt in my life. I let out a startled cry and tightened my grip, hoping Benedict's frozen hand might snuff out the invisible flame. But nothing happened, the flame had instead begun to spread at a rapid rate. My whole arm was now on fire and, impossible though it seemed, the temperature continued to rise. The urgent issue of drowning on my own blood no longer seemed like the emergency I initially believed it to be; I would happily accept this fate if it meant I would avoid the blazing inferno that was now coursing its way through my veins.

"Make it stop, please, make it stop" I begged, and with a strength I didn't know I had considering how close I was to death, I sat up as fast as I could and began scratching wildly at my burning skin.

But the fire raged on, my frantic actions useless against the flames. The blood in my throat had turned into liquid fire, my eyes suddenly began burning, the flames were now consuming my brain - and before I knew it; I was blind in pain. I could feel my hands, burning with heat, desperately scratching at my face in an effort to peel the skin away and release the flames hidden behind it. Suddenly, two heavy stones weighed on my shoulders and forced me on my back. The charming, familiar voice of a man spoke in my ear.

"I can't stop it, Carmen. I can only stop you from harming yourself. I'm so sorry" Benedict said, but his voice was miles away, I felt incapable of hearing or seeing anything clearly as I burned.

And still the pain grew.

Knives of acid slashed through my veins like hot, unseen swords, corroding my muscles and dissolving my bones. I was being eaten alive by fire, inch by inch - and now I was being held down, forced to endure the pain without moving. I couldn't hold it in anymore, my desire to spare my immortal friend any suffering was broken only by the desire to finally be put out of my misery. As I lost all sense of self-control, a blood-curdling scream erupted from my mouth; and suddenly I was screaming more loudly than I'd ever screamed in my life. Over and over and over again, I screamed. Half my body pressed against the table, I writhed in agony in a pathetic attempt to throw off the flames. But nothing happened, no relief, no merciful execution - even my screams did nothing to ease the torture I was experiencing.