NB: the chapter features mature content!
Holding her under the armpits, I drag Hebe across the floor as far away from the broken mirror as possible. "Seven years of misfortunes" Hebe's words are beating in my head. Just a few hours ago, she was so cocky and strong, and now she is inert and unconscious. Like a red, eerie ribbon, the trail of her blood is drawn from the wardrobe. She can't die. She can't, can't die.
Hebe's clothes are dark with her blood: from fear, being on the verge of hysteria, I cannot understand where the blood is coming from. Where? Where? Shoulder!
I press my hand trying to stop the bleeding, but nothing works! I grab the edge of the frost-white blanket and pull it towards me with barely bending fingers. I squeeze the blanket to her shoulder, and it instantly fills with blood like the belly of a mosquito. Scare makes me sick: I don't have a mobile phone, and I have no idea if there is any phone in the house. I look around with horror, trying to understand what can help me, and I don't see anything suitable; I don't even know where the first aid kit is... Boy! I can try to find the boy or just ask someone outside to help me, but while I do it, she might bleed to death!
"Hebe... you can't die! I beg you... you can't," I implore her swaying from side to side perfectly recreating the pose of shocked Ivan the Terrible in Repin's painting *. The witch, as if hearing me, moans and opens her eyes. "Hebe! What should I do? I'll do anything, just tell me! Just stay with me, don't close your eyes again!" I sob, supporting her head. What terrifies me most is not actually the blood, but the fact that she's insanely hot! I am so used to her pleasant, slightly cool skin, but now she seems to be burning like a torch. In response to my words, the girl smirks languidly; a few mocking wrinkles gather at the corners of her slightly oriental, slanting eyes. It calms me down a bit.
"Polished box under the bed. Red bottle. Keep on breathing, girl!" She smiled again, but a second later her body softens in my arms.
"H-Hebe?" I whisper, but the witch doesn't answer again. She is very hot – this is bad, but her temperature indicates that she is still alive. I'm terrified: I don't want to let go of her from my embrace, but I don't hesitate and crawl under the bed. I find the box right away. I can't open it at once, but then I accidentally press my finger on a small bird figure carved in wood, and the box opens with a loud pop. I begin to rummage through the contents, my heart is beating loudly: a green bottle, a black bottle, an alcoholized embryo in a tightly closed jar (I wish it were not a human embryo! How disgusting!); where is... the red bottle!
I dash to Hebe, understanding that I don't know what to do with the liquid: shall I pour it into her mouth or shall I pour it on her wound? Let's start with the wound: this is the safest way! I carefully pour out the contents of the bottle; one drop is enough to make Hebe scream loudly, immediately waking her up. The blood on her shoulder began to boil and turn black. I pull her closer to me, unable to look at her pain.
"Hang on, please!" I beg her with tears in my voice, although, I don't even know if her pain will go. My lips touch her wet forehead, and I understand that she is no longer so hot, and her breath has no stridor. Overpowering my fear, I force myself to look at the eerie black foam that is covering her wound. It's still boiling, but not so actively. Hebe starts to stir a little; her gaze becomes more focused, and the "snakes" on her skin, which were quite dull, began to appear and slowly curl, moving along her tanned skin. "Are you a little better?" I gently brush a strand of her hair off her damp but no longer hot forehead.
She nods weakly. We sit huddled together for what seems like an eternity. I can't believe that everything worked out, but I can't relax either: are all the portals to this house protected? Could her pursuer get to us again? Witch's iron tesak is missing: so, there's no weapon to protect our lives, "It was the same witch with white hair, wasn't she?!" I start to sob, "You were hurt because of me! If I had gone with her, she would not have hurt you, she would not have taken revenge for the molten arm!" My arms grip the witch even tighter.
YOU ARE READING
MARBLE & SALT (Lesbian)
Fantasy✔️Fantasy-Romance || WomanxWoman || What will you do if your secret sexual fantasy, you were afraid to dream of, comes true? What if the curtain opens to you, leading to a new brave world, which was so close, but you could not touch it? Will you agr...
