Things that Go Bump in the Night

Chapter 48: Part II: Into the Void

A/N: Wow, updates this close together have not happened in a long time! Enjoy it! Only 2-3 more chapters to go! P.S. SOOO unedited, it is ridiculous. 

I never thought I would die like this.

I was going to die standing on shaky legs, the rain pelting down hard around me as I held a gun to my own head. I was going to die in a gamble, letting the beast force my trigger finger as he let out a sound that could not be described by any noun. It varied in pitch and edged on the insane. Fury, confusion, outrage. The Beast's voiced emotions cut across the water and buried into my skin like razor wire. Cutting through my flesh, sawing through bone.

I could feel it. I could feel all of it.

The intensity of his anger towards me, twisted with a primal possessiveness that threatened to crush me in an inescapable vice. The low groan of the rivets of the cargo ship as the river current pitched under the assault of the rain. The sting of sharp rain droplets as they struck every part of my exposed skin and bounced off every surface illuminated only by the flickering security lights that creaked and swayed under the pressure of the relentless wind.

And in all of that, the cold metal of the gun kept me grounded, reminded me that I was alive. In twisted irony, what was going to kill me, was what was making me feel more alive, more in control of my own life, than I had felt in years.

All it would take from him is one lunge forward, one move in my direction, and it would be my end.

That was how I thought I would die.

Instead, I was going to die of dehydration, exhaustion and sepsis in the middle of a fucking desert.

It seemed like years ago that I was standing on the coal barge ready to end my own life. In reality it had only been a couple days. At most, just shy of two weeks. I had lost tract. The days began to run together for me at about the same time the stench from my wounded leg stopped bothering me. The first few days after the standoff I tried to keep the dressings changed. It had looked fairly alright, considering all that had transpired. But, after a few days the skin around my sutures began to turn black and my flesh puckered like a burnt tortilla. Two days after that it stopped hurting...which was by the smell it adopted was definitely not a good sign. I stopped changing the bandage when I literally vomited from looking at the wound. It oozed puss, crackled when touched and stank with the decay of death.

 My leg was rotting, or at least part of it was.

What little food I had,  I couldn't stomach even looking at and I couldn't keep water down to save my life. Literally, to save my life. I was so thirsty, but every time I so much as attempted to take a sip, my stomach would rebel, sending me into a fit of uncontrollable dry heaving that left me light headed and unable to stand.

I was so close.

I had made it all the way across the border. I had stowed away on a semi-trailer  from Baton Rouge to San Antonio and bought a bus ticket with money I straight up stole from a werewolf woman who had left her purse unattended to get to El Paso. I was following Carlos' instructions, or at least I thought I was two days ago. 

The sepsis in my leg and inability to drink was making me delirious and easily confused. I often caught myself drifting away from the compass directions or becoming distracted by the nothingness that stretched around me for miles. It seemed like years since I had seen anything recognizable from human civilization, while it was only a handful of days. As I fumbled to the ground for the fifth time in  five minutes, I knew my situation wasn't looking good.

I fell the sixth time, scraping my good knee and palms against the dirt. It wasn't even sand. I thought sand was what was in deserts? But, it was just dirt, or looked like dirt, dried and cracked until it broke into puzzle pieces that crumbled beneath me.

This time, I didn't get up.

I had been so ready to die. So ready to have a meaningful death.

What a pathetic thing I was now. If I had died the way I thought I would before, at least I would have kept a shred of dignity. A part of me wished now that I had died. That I had pulled that trigger. It would have saved me from this death, it would have saved me from this pain. But mostly, it would have saved me from the giant unanswered question of how I was even alive to begin with.

After the piercing fury, the Beast seemed to become more aware than I had seen it during the entire escapade. Its facial features shifted from demonically angry, to furious, to confused, to realization and then to an emotion I would have never expected, or could very accurately put into words.

The best I could describe it as was desperation, borderline on hysteria.

The Beast made a noise I didn't know. It was soft, low pitched at first but became progressively higher at it continued. From the haze of bloodlust the Beast had realized my decision, and was apparently not taking it well. It called out a second time, even higher in pitch and desperation.

My gun did not waver. Neither did my resolve.

I would not fall for this. I would not be tricked or trapped. This was the end for me. I would never be his again, and in my heart I knew he wouldn't allow me to be free while I was living.

But I was wrong.

He didn't move. He didn't even attempt to get to me as I drifted further away, into the darkness, into the rain and out of sight. It wasn't until I heard a lone howl pierce the torrent of the rain that I stiffly let the gun drop from my temple and spastically fell to my knees in shock and the fall out of adrenaline that had left me shaking and numb.

The lone howl was defeated. The lone howl was broken.

The lone howl  set me free.

The lone howl destroyed all that I thought I knew.

I turned my head to the side, trying to see more of the sky. The sky was happy, right? Much better than the fucking dirt that obviously had not seen the love of rain in a millennium. 

The sky was so blue, it hurt my eyes, and it was endless.

Endless and unfeeling.

I was going to die here.

The finality of that fact seemed to press into me from every angle. Forced down upon me from that cold blue sky that watched me in judgment and indifference.

I was going to die.

But now it would mean nothing, be nothing.

Dark shadows circled in the great blueness now, seeming to get closer and blocking my view of the sun. I didn't know if I was hallucinating or not. I knew that would come soon, maybe it already had. Maybe I was already dead. Maybe this was the hell I deserved.

The black smudges got closer, gliding gracefully above me like dancers. They were almost beautiful, whatever they were, but unsettling. In the back of my mind they reminded me of something, but I couldn't focus enough to really see what they were.

In fact, I was having trouble seeing at all at this point, the periphery of my vision growing dim.

For the second time in life I felt the edges of my consciousness fade, slipping into the final void. And for the first time, I was at peace with it, ready to be done with the pain.

As the black smudges on the blue sky disappeared, I was blessed with one more hallucination, one that made me feel light and safe. One that was a blessing in a world that seemed full of curses.

 Green eyes, flecked with slashes of copper and as bright as emeralds.

Mommy.

I welcomed the darkness.