Running With Devils

Twenty-Three

"What the fuck isn't wrong," I muttered bitterly. "I need my goddamned heart back before I waste away to nothing—"

I hissed, gripping my head in agony. My body felt so heavy. So weak.

"Mal," Levi asked worriedly, stepping toward me.

"I'm fine," I snarled, falling further against the side of the car. "Get him to the interrogation room. I'll be there in five."

Levi's eyes were sharp as he peered at me— dissecting the state I was in and analyzing it piece by piece.

"I'll be back," he said grimly, throwing the unconscious mortal over his shoulder with ease and vanishing.

Alone again, I slid to the ground. My single heart was working overtime to keep me alive. I could feel how quickly it was beating. I clutched my chest, willing it to relax.

It didn't.

And then it was like I couldn't breathe.

Was this what it felt like to not have total control? Was this what it was to be at the mercy of mortality?

I had never known such a terrible agonizing pain in all my years. I was choking on my own air, chest paralyzed entirely.

Why couldn't I breathe? What the fuck was happening? I couldn't understand what was going on within my own body.
Panic began to set in as the realization that death was becoming a very imminent threat.

Unwilling tears from lack of oxygen fell down my face.

"Malachi!"

That wasn't Levi's voice. Nor was it Destiels or even Sam's.

How the fuck did the witch know I was in desperate need of help?

Her face appeared in my darkening vision, eyes wide. She looked me over as if trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

She wouldn't have to look any further than a mirror.

"It's just a panic attack," she said, her voice surprisingly soft. "Relax. Breathe."

I shook my head.

"Tell me what you need," she asked calmly. "Cigarette?"

Again, I shook my head. I brought a shaky hand to my chest, gripping my shirt.

She understood what I was referring to.
"I don't have it," she swallowed. "It's at—," she paused. "You're fucking with me aren't you. You're making me feel bad for you—"

No... I would never choose this. I would never choose to be this vulnerable. This was torture beyond anything I had ever experienced.

My eyes dimmed further as I made one last ditch effort to communicate with her.

Coralynn... please...

Something flickered in her eyes. And then mine went completely dark.

***

When I opened my eyes, I was alone. A dull ache throbbed in my head. I had known that taking on this role would take its toll on me. I had no idea it would cost me any semblance of peace.

The witch had called it a panic attack. But to me it was weakness. That breakdown was a tell tale sign that I was in my decline. I would die before I had made it to the top.

I would peak at being second. I had come so far only to fail at the finish line.

With the kid in our unprepared hands, we had put ourselves fully into this fight. At the end of the day, it was my head on the block. There was no room for mistakes.