Patient B-2

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Idalia

We opted for a ride home, much to the shock of the poor man in the driver's seat, who seemed on the verge of a heart attack upon taking in our appearances. Swiftly, I intervened, compelling him to calmness and relieving some of his panic. Wrath, meanwhile, remained uncharacteristically silent, seemingly shaken by the events of the evening. Secretly, I found satisfaction in his disquiet, realizing that his subdued state would impede any attempts to extract information from me. Despite his curses directed at me for risking damage to the building layout and breaking our phones, I reassured him that both concerns were unfounded as our possessions remained intact.

The ride home felt like an eternity, every minute ticking by with agonizing slowness. As we finally stepped through the door, Cierien and Sophie were upon us in an instant, their expressions a tumult of concern and disbelief. "What the hell happened?" Cierien's voice trembles with urgency as he rushes to Wrath's side, his hands hovering over him as if expecting to find fresh wounds, forgetting for a moment that Wrath is a vampire, capable of healing in an instant. The shock of our appearance seems to freeze them in place, rendering them speechless as they struggle to process.

"She's fucking crazy," Wrath grits out, swatting Cierien off.

"Wow, I could have told you that," Sophie mutters, plopping down onto the couch with ease.

I roll my eyes at their words. "Boohoo, cry me a fucking river. We got exactly what we needed," I retort, tossing my purse onto the coffee table with a nonchalant flick of my wrist.

Sophie's hand shoots out, snatching my purse before I can blink. With a skeptical eye fixed on me, she rummages through it until she retrieves the layout. Smoothly, she irons out the creases, laying it flat before us. As Wrath mumbles something about washing up, signaling his departure, I suppress a smirk, secretly pleased to see him still rattled by our recent escapade.

As the comforting warmth settles in my core, a prickling sense of panic starts to weave its tendrils back into my consciousness. I find myself tuning out the duo before me, their words lost in the cacophony of static reverberating through my mind.

I swivel on my heels, making a beeline for Sophie's room. "Nuh-uh," she interjects with a click of her tongue. "That's my space. You'll have to make do with their shower."

Ignoring her protests, I press on with determined strides, but the brat cuts me off, darting in front of me and delivering a swift push. Without hesitation, I seize her by the throat. I watch as she struggles for breath, her eyes widening in fear, hands clawing at mine in a desperate attempt to break free. "What was that you were saying?" I inquire calmly, tightening my grip ever so slightly. "I didn't hear you the first time. I believe you had something to tell me."

"Idalia!" Cierien yelps, springing to his feet and yanking me off of her.

I don't stick around. As I rush into the bathroom, intent on reaching the solace of the shower, I'm unable to hold back the wave of emotions crashing over me. Before I can reach the haven of hot water, a sob escapes my lips, uncontrollable and raw. Hastily, I twist the faucet, the sound of water masking the sound of my anguish. Collapsing onto the cool tiles, I huddle into myself, burying my face between my knees, using trembling hands to muffle the cries wracking my body.

Exhaustion weighs heavy on my shoulders, a burden I've carried for what feels like centuries. The relentless search for Aren has consumed me, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake. And now, with Avalyn gone and my failure exposed to the others, I feel the weight of my inadequacy pressing down on me like a suffocating cloak.

But I've given my all. I've poured every ounce of strength and determination into this quest. I'm still standing, still breathing. Surely, that counts for something, doesn't it? I've navigated countless dangers, evaded capture, and survived against all odds. Isn't that an achievement in itself?