XXXI
Dying
There was no second that Iana wasn’t shaking. Every part of her body was moving from the internal cold. She had already emptied her stomach hours ago, now she would dry heave every hour or so.
This made the man in the suit laugh sinisterly when he’d enter the room. He said that his Father would be arriving soon, and Iana was dreading when it came.
Iana wasn’t able to fall asleep, one of the disadvantages of being away from Jack. She wished she could pass out from blood loss or exhaustion, but no, she didn’t. The man said that her soul was constantly repairing her since it was so strong.
Suddenly, Iana’s restraints were no longer restraining her, and she fell over off the chair. Her body hit the ground with a dull thud, and she groaned, her lips trembling.
“Get up, you scum slut,” a very familiar voice said, and Iana turned her head towards it gasping at what she saw.
“Gracie?” She said, horrified.
“Oh shut up and get the hell off the floor!” Gracie snapped, and grabbed Iana’s arm harshly. She ripped her from the floor and kept her from falling again. “We need to clean you up, my boss wouldn’t want a slut like you smelling of puke and blood.”
Iana winced at what she said. In truth, Iana was worse than what Gracie described.
Without care, Gracie hauled Iana through the only door in the bright room and down the hall to what must’ve been a bathroom. When the door opened Iana was pushed hard into the room, landing at a weird angel against the iron tub.
“Get up! You weak piece of shit!” Gracie snarled, spittle coming out of her mouth.
“I-I can’t,” Iana admitted lamely. It was embarrassing to be weak, to not be able to stand or even push into a sitting position.
Gracie huffed, and again clamped her hand onto Iana’s arm. “You’re pathetic. For someone who has the eldest soul in their body, you are truly pathetic and weak. That soul doesn’t deserve you. It should be in someone strong and capable.” When Gracie smiled Iana knew what she was going to say, “strong and capable, like me.”
Iana wanted to puke again, but she knew nothing would come out of it other than a sore throat and a torn stomach.
She was thrown into the tub with no gentleness, and she felt something in her arm snap. Clenching her teeth, Iana held in the scream of pain that silently roared through her body. She didn’t want to make Gracie happy at her pain.
Slowly, Iana’s body began to feel numb as Gracie ripped off her dress with her bare hands. Soon she was only in her underwear and strapless bra, which were both dirty.
Iana rested her head against the tub as she cradled her hurt arm against her chest. Iana breathed through the numbness, hoping it would fade away and not make her feel empty. It tingled through her body more profusely before it wore off completely, and by then Iana could feel the water. It was ice cold!
“Turn it off! It’s too cold!” She cried helplessly. Gracie looked at her in shock and confusion.
“It’s on hot you bitch! How could it be cold?”
Iana was out of the tub, shivering but clean. Her hair was still damp since Gracie only allowed her to dry her body in the amount of time she’d given Iana. So a big dark spot was on the back of the dress Iana was wearing.
The thought of a dress drew sadness through Iana’s body. Her perfect dress was ruined, soiled from dirt and blood, ripped by Gracie’s hands, on the floor of the bathroom Iana hated now.
Oh how she wished she was huddled under the blankets of her bed with Jack’s arms wrapped around her body lovingly. Their eyes gazing into each other’s as their lips just barely touch. Iana would give anything to be back with Jack. She wanted her life to finally start for real where she and Jack would go to college and then marry someday.
“Hey bitch, the boss is here to talk to you,” Gracie snarled, and the smile that somehow spread its way onto her face subconsciously disappeared.
The whole time Gracie was bathing Iana she was muttering how the boss wanted her clean and presentable. During that time muttering Gracie probably didn’t realize she was digging her fingers in Iana’s skin as she washed her.
The door opened and Gracie with the suited man came through. Gracie held the door open as another, older man entered the room. The two men looked very like and Iana assumed that this was the father.
“Good evening, Iana. It’s very nice to finally meet you,” the older man said, his accent just as thick as his sons. “I am Barron. Leader of the Incarnates.”
“The Incarnates?” Iana asked.
Barron smiled, and sat in the chair his son used hours ago. “Yes, The Incarnates is a private group that has soul who remember any of their past lives. It doesn’t matter which one, but there are only around three hundred of us in the whole world. If you try hard enough, you can remember too,” he chuckled. “Of course, you won’t be alive long enough to do that.”
The sinister smile on his made Iana cringe and wither back into her seat. Her stomach clenched and her head throbbed at the idea of Barron, someone who looked like an average man, killing her. If she hadn’t already been shivering, one would’ve crawled it’s way all through her body.
Iana’s muscles all seemed to relax at the same time, and her eyes grew heavy. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. It was coming, Iana knew it. She felt it too.
“Pray tell,” Barron started, “why are you shaking uncontrollably. Why is your skin blue and your eyes drowsy?”
Gathering all the strength she had before she succumbed to darkness, she whispered, “I’m dying,” and curled into the blackness.
Jack froze, analyzing the unfamiliar feeling that held his body in its clutches. Tyler and Cindy looked at him weirdly, since they were walking across a parking lot and he just stopped.
“Sweetie,” Cindy asked, “what’s wrong?”
Understanding dawned on him when he felt pain deep in his heart. Jack fell to his knees, accidentally laying his bare hands on the pavement. Somewhere to the left a driving car swerved, and Jack ripped his hands away from the ground.
He breathed deeply, hoping to not cry, to rid this feeling and wake up with Iana in his arms. He was still here though, and now he knew that Iana’s time was limited.
“No,” he choked out to himself, “it’s not. I’ll find her.”
“Jack,” Tyler warned, “tell us what’s wrong.”
Turning his head, Jack shook his head, “we need to find her soon.”
“What, why?” Tyler started to panic, and Cindy had to lay her hand on his arm to calm him.
“Iana’s lucky that she’s held onto her life for two days, but she isn’t going to last long. She’s fading, Tyler,” Jack choked again, “I can feel her getting smaller and smaller.”
“Dammit!”
Both men started panicking, Jack crying and Tyler cursing.
“Shut up you too!” Cindy yelled, fed up, “freaking out is not going to help us find Iana!”
Silence followed her, and she smiled small at her victory. Turning to Jack, she addressed him, “you can find her, you have before. Just think of her.”
Jack’s brows furrowed, “I didn’t think of her when I found her.”
“Wait,” Cindy said confusedly, “what made you find her again?”
Thinking for a minute, Jack remembered, “she sang! She was singing when I found her. It was her lullaby, the one she’s always humming!”
“Chelsea’s?” Tyler asked, hope in his eyes.
Jack nodded enthusiastically, and abruptly stood up, “all she has to do is sing it. I always know where she is when she sings that song, no other. So it has to be that one.”
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Barron, or the 'Dark One' is Al Pacino. Comment 'bout it...
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