Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
There’s nothing else. No more. It’s pitch black.
The hurt stops.
I stop.
21
Recovered Journal of Dr. Georgia Clark
May 30, Year 1, Emergence Era
We’ve tried so many different ways of approaching the plague. We’re missing something, something huge. It’s right in front of us. Nothing is unsolvable, not even this goddamn virus.
Iscream awake, my chest on fire as I draw in a huge gulp of air. Burning, dying, I can’t survive the explosion of agony, the sheer wall of torture. I thrash, tearing at my skin.
“Georgia!” someone yells.
The world is black, but I’m awake. I’m awake to feel every ounce of flame. I am nothing but pain.
“Just breathe.”
I can’t. It hurts too much. Let me die. Let me die. Please let me die.
“Never!” the voice says.
Time passes, the flames receding, my vision still empty. I don’t know how long. It’s like I’m floating through the night sky, no stars, no moon. Just cold nothing tinged with a never-ending burn.
“Don’t move. Don’t fucking move. I can’t tell where the blood is coming from. Fuck!” Hands probe at me.
I shrink away from them.
“Georgia, please.” A growl near my ear.
My skin prickles to life, pins and needles everywhere.
The hands return despite my flailing.
Warmth joins the uncomfortable sensation, and I hear water. My vision turns into a gray blur. Each breath chars me, my body struggling to simply exist.
“That’s better. Better.” A low mumble.
Blinking, I reach out and feel someone moving, their hands on me again. It doesn’t hurt nearly as bad now. I let out a big breath and cough, convulsing almost from the force of it.
“Shh.” The hand is smoothing along my face.
“Valen?” I ask though all I can make out is a blur.
“Yes.” He pours water along my body, and I realize I’m in a bathtub.
“What’s happening?” My voice is a croak. I blink hard, desperate to see him, to see anything.
“You’re safe.”
“I’m never safe.” I fall into a coughing fit again, my respiratory system feeling like it’s turning inside out.
More water splashes against me, and I have the odd thought that this is like being born.
The next time I open my eyes, I see him. He pours water across my chest, his gaze intent.
I draw my arm up to cover myself.
“Don’t.” He grips my wrist gently. “I have to see.”
“See what?” I swallow, my throat barely cooperating.
“I had to … I had to …” He swipes his hand along my ribcage.
I’m naked. The water is dark pink. Blood. My blood.
I scramble away from him. “Stop!” My voice is a squeak.
“I had to,” he says again.
“What?” I look down at myself, my skin red and raw. Not bleeding. I run my palms along my sides and down into the water. “The blood.” I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Am I bleeding out?
Valen sits back.
“What happened?” I reach forward and yank the stopper’s chain, the water draining in a gurgling flow.
One arm across my breasts, I stare at the rest of me, at the pink skin along my sides and arms.
“Valen!” I snap at him.
He looks up, his eyes sunken, his skin gone so white it verges on blue.
I lean over the side of the tub. His wrists are open, ragged as if chewed into by an animal, blood pooling beneath him.
The torn flesh—I remember. It comes back in a screaming whirlwind. Gorsky tried to kill me. Did he? Am I a vampire now?
Valen leans to the side, then topples, splayed onto the floor as he bleeds.
“What the fuck?” I climb out of the tub and drop, my legs refusing to cooperate. “Valen!”
Dazed, he stares up at me.
“I had to,” he whispers.
“Had to what?” But I know. I already know what he’s done. He’s used his blood to heal me. My pain is gone. After the beating I took, I should be dead. Collapsed lungs, broken bones, shattered ribs, head trauma—a mortal cocktail.
“You—you won’t die, right?” I kneel beside him, my nudity forgotten, everything forgotten except survival.
He smirks weakly. “Worried for me?” he rasps.
“Glad to be rid of you.” Déjà vu creeps through my gray matter. We’ve had this conversation before. Once. Only once?
“You gave me your blood. You … saved my life. Your blood can save lives?” I’m frozen now. Too many thoughts crashing into me at once. Valen should die. Maybe he will if I do nothing. If I wrap myself in a towel and just leave. I could do it. I should do it.
“Decisions, decisions,” he whispers, still taunting. Then he closes his eyes. “I never should’ve found you. A gift undeserved.”
His lips are blue, his body still. Dying. I have to let him die. It will save lives. This is for the best. I can’t intervene, no matter how much my idiot bleeding heart instinct says otherwise.
I hover, tears welling as I look down at him. Not a human, but a creature. A soul? I don’t know. But he saved me. Gorsky, a fellow human, gave me no such grace. But Valen did. He gave me his blood—a lot of it from the looks of him. He endangered himself for me. Why? I guess it doesn’t matter why. Even a monster can do something deeply human. Even a human can do something monstrous. Like … like Juno. Can I do the same? Can I let someone die right in front of me when I have the power to save them?