|Unexpected Help|
The white sand grinds between my toes, as I walk the length of the beach, looking out at the sunset. There is laughter coming up from behind. Turning swiftly, I'm swept off my feet and twirled in circles. I extend my body, letting my arms dangle behind my intruders back. Staring up into the sky, puffy white clouds dance in my vision. Rolling waves crash onto shore. The foam from the water washes over the feet below me, and when another pair of feet come into vision, I glance up.
Bianca.
"Finnian," she laughs, "let her down, right now!"
He twirls me around one last time, and laughs, "She is getting tossed!"
I slap his back playfully. "No, you're going to let me down. Bianca!" She runs up to me, grabbing my wrists.
The laughter and smiles warm my heart. It's peaceful. But as the sun sinks away, Finn drops me into the ocean. It's too deep. Waves continuously crash over my face, pushing me further down into the water. I break surface, inhaling, trying to catch my breath. I'm far from shore now, no longer able to see Finn and Bianca.
"Help!" I scream, accidently swallowing the salty water.
Another wave crashes over my head. What used to be a beautiful daydream is now a nightmare. I'm going to drown, and there is no one to save me.
I'm pushed under, rolling with the waves.
This time, I don't break surface. Floating aimlessly, I open my eyes, gazing at the bit of sun that glistens through the water. I gulp, wanting to breathe in air, but only suck in more water. Bubbles hover in front of my face, rising to the surface, leaving me below.
This is it, it's all over now.
Closing my eyes, I inhale water through my nose. The pain as it fills my lungs isn't making this a peaceful death. Drowning is anything but peaceful. It's making me remember things I don't want to remember. It floods my mind: Sylas, PURE, and the Seraphim.
Being a creation.
This is it, it's my final breath. I can feel it.
Hands grab my wrist. I feel myself being pulled upward toward the surface. The breeze gliding over the ocean hits my bare face. Floating on my back, I gulp in air, like a fish out of water. I'm not dying today.
It isn't time, this isn't it after all.
"Irissa," a woman's voice calls out to me.
Kicking my legs to stay afloat, I gaze around the vast area. Only water, nothing more.
"Hello?" I call out. "Help me!"
"Stay strong," she says, still nowhere in sight. "Fight back."
It sounds like Evelyn.
"Eve, is that you?" I ask, my lips quivering.
"Wake up, Irissa," she demands. "Wake up!"
"Irissa?"
The room is bright. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to regain my vision. A beeping noise is coming from my left. It feels like there is tubing connected to my arms, hands, and nose. Just above my field of vision, I see a blurry figure. They flash a tiny ball of light at my face, and pull my eyelids upward. I blink again, causing the person to pull away.
"It's okay," the female voice says. "I need you to open your eyes and speak."
Licking my dry lips, I ask groggily, "Is this a dream?"
"This is real, Iris," she says. "You're in recovery."
"What?" My eyes open completely, revealing the person examining me. "Hanna..."
She smiles. "Good, you're awake now."
Raising my left arm, I inspect the intravenous tubing connected to one of my veins. The pain is more noticeable now. It's coming from my lower back. Shifting on my side, I rub my fingers across the bandage. It's warm and damp.
"What happened to me?" I say breathily.
Hanna presses her fingers on my back now, smoothing the outer rim of the bandage. "Bleeding has stopped," she says. "I will need to change the suture soon."
"Answer me!" I immediately regret my outburst. The pain shoots up my back, making the stitching pull on my wound.
She continues to ignore me. Her heels tap across the floor of the fluorescent lit room. I can hear her rustling through cupboards and drawers. Running water comes from the right of the room. As she approaches my bed again, her open hand reveals two small pills.
"Time for your medication," Hanna says softly. I lay open my hand, watching the pills fall onto it. She passes me a cup of water to wash them down.
I swallow, and then say, "Thanks..."
I have to be somewhat thankful; it's to keep me alive after all.
Hanna stands still, watching me carefully. "I don't feel sorry for you," she says sneeringly.
"Why do you say this?" I inch myself up into a sitting position. "Well, I guess I could have guessed that myself. You backstabbed me. Your true motive all along was to retain a higher status within PURE, right?"
"All my life, I've wanted a place to call home," Hanna replies. "I used to be weak when I had nothing. Now that I have it all, I'm strong as can be. It's survival of the fittest."
"Are you saying I'm weak, Hanna?"
"Physically, not so much," she says, "but emotionally? I'd say so."
I shrug. "It's something I'm working on."
Hanna steps away from my bed, collecting a needle from the metal tray a few feet away. I watch as she injects it into one of my tubing's. The clear liquid travels through the medical plastic, until it hits the tip connected with my arm.
"Your mind is weak," she adds. "Sometimes you feel strong enough to fight a hundred men, and then other times, you just want to give up. You gave up, didn't you?"
"What does that even mean?" I feel light headed. "And I had no choice. It was only me against them."
She sighs. "It means you're more human than we ever thought you'd be."
"You're not human, Hanna?"
"Of course I'm human, Irissa," she says, now looking directly at me. "I just know how to shut my emotions on and off when it comes to other people. But you? You're just learning to turn them on." She smiles and dispenses the needle inside the hazardous trash can.
She's right. Since "waking up" one day and forced into this world, I've always struggled with connecting with people. Then it suddenly happened, I began to feel attachments, especially toward Bianca, Finn, and even Kyler. These people who just appeared into my life at random, under such horrible circumstances helped me let my guard down. I no longer hide behind rude remarks and fake smiles.
I say, "I think I understand you."
Hanna walks toward the door, but stops to face me. "How so?" she asks, furrowing her brows. Her usual smooth forehead is plagued by fine lines as she waits for me to answer.
"You were abandoned as a child, weren't you?" I say. "Sylas took you in, trained you well, and you've grown to become one of his many puppets."
Her heels step closer, inch by inch. "Wow, you've figured me out," she says with a snarky tone.
"There is a difference between us," I add.
"What's that, Irissa?"
"I'm loved," I say. "Even if it's an odd love, I have always been treasured since creation. What about you? Not synthetic, born from an actual human mother, yet easily forgotten." I sit up straight, pushing away thoughts of my pain scorching through me, and swing my legs off the side of the bed. Hanna takes one large step, reaching out for me, but stops. "You're a puppet in this freak show called PURE."
Her face pales over. "Don't you dare move from that bed," she says, gritting her teeth. "You're right. I was never wanted. I'm the stepchild that wasn't like the rest of the family. I was quiet and brilliant. No one understood me! That's fine. All of it is in the past. PURE is my family now. They understand me, Irissa. I've become an important piece to a puzzle."
"You're being led on strings, Hanna," I reply.
Her eyes tear up. "Then so be it."
I've broken through her steel armor. I watch a tear roll down her ivory cheek. She quickly wipes it away to hide what little emotion she thought possible to turn off.
As she appears weak, I nudge her out of the way, planting my bare feet onto the cold floor. One step, and she grabs a hold of the back of my gown.
"You've got one less kidney," she states.
Sylas needed a kidney.
Reaching around my back, I press my fingers against the bandage again, and then look at Hanna. "I can live with only one?"
She nods. "Yes, however, you will have to be more cautious of your choice of lifestyle," Hanna says. "That's if you live long enough to have one." Again, her steel-plated armor is back up.
"I plan to," I whisper. Hanna tilts her head, confused at what I've just said.
I yank tubing from my body and pull the heart monitor stickers from my chest. The machine flat lines. Maybe it's the adrenaline rushing through my body, but I feel no more pain.
Tripping over the medical devices surrounding the bed, I fall forward on my knees. Blood oozes from my back, rolling off my skin and onto the floor. Hanna lunges toward me, grabbing my arms. I push her back. Steadying myself on my knees, the room spins slightly. Whatever she injected into my body earlier is taking its toll. Waving my arms in front of me, I try grabbing hold of a split image of Hanna. Her long, auburn hair is noticeable, but the rest of her features are blending together.
"Irissa," she says calmly, "don't do this."
I yell, "Do what? Live?"
I've made a connection with her split image, grabbing hold of actual wrists. She twirls me in a circle, trying to detach herself from my grip. I try to push forward, but she slams my back again against a counter, the wound on my back splits open. Each stitching tears, as Hanna pushes me against the edge of the countertop. Kicking her in the shin, she backs away. I rub my eyes and shake my head. I've got to wake up from this medication.
Hanna yells, "The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were trouble!" She digs her fingernails into my arms. "You're a threat. I won't be overlooked, and if you are gone, that will never happen."
Breaking loose from her wrists, I slam my fist into her chin. She trips over her feet, falling down backward. I try to stagger past her, but her fingers wrap around my ankle, trapping me in place. Falling to my knees, she wraps her other hand around my ankle, pulling me back toward her. Kicking my legs, I try and break free, but no luck. Hanna climbs over me, rolling me onto my back.
My vision clears. Blood is everywhere. Hanna's sleeves of her white lab coat are smeared in it, making blotchy streaks. Reaching for her neck, she knocks my hands away.
Now her fingers wrap around my neck, pressing tightly.
I try to suck in a breath, but can't. She's blocking my airway. Flailing, I reach upward, clawing at her face. Not even that makes her break her connection with my throat.
"Sylas will understand," she says, spit trickling from her mouth as she struggles against my resistance. "I'm the best damn doctor he's got."
The bright room is getting darker, or maybe that's me slowly losing consciousness. I pull on her wrists, while watching her flushed cheeks tremble as she begins to weaken. She sucks in her bottom lip, biting down on it. If I can hold on a little longer, she might pull away.
Her grip gets stronger.
I can't...
Hold on...
Hanna's grip pulls away from my throat. Her face is now a hue of pink, now changing to a pale blue. I suck in air, coughing. Pushing her off of me, I roll to my side, pressing my cheek against the coolness of the floor. Trying to catch my breath, I watch Hanna struggle to breathe. Her fingers link around her tiny throat. Her gasps grow lesser and lesser.
Looking past her, I notice a pair boots in my line of vision. Sitting up, I look at the person standing before us. In their hand is Hanna's inhaler.
Eve holds up the tiny device. "Everything will be okay. I'm going to help you."
I look back at Hanna who has fallen flat on her stomach, taking her last breath.