The Hirt

Chapter Twenty

Heather opened her eyes slowly.  There was a slight ringing in her ears and a mild chemical smell greeted her nose.  She blinked a few times, trying to allow her eyes to adjust to the fluorescent light.  A sour taste lingered in her mouth and her throat felt like sandpaper.  However, that was the only discomfort she felt.  It was as if she’d just had five cups of double-shot coffee.  Heather realized she was lying on something that felt like a bed.  She sat up so she could properly see the room she was in.

Everything was white:  the walls, the ceiling, the floor.  A white ceiling fan rotated slowly above her and cabinets lined the walls.  The room was the roughly the size of a classroom and it had the stale smell of a hospital.  The bed she was on sat in the middle of the room and a sterling silver tray table stood next to her, with an empty vial on top. 

Heather felt at ease.  She winced as the memories flooded back, and she realized she’d been a fool.  Lykos Mor was not the enemy, but it was Damien and all those stupid Kidellians.  How could she ever have fought next to them?  They had brainwashed her!  Tricked her!  And the all-powerful Lykos had sent someone to save her.  He deserved to be in power.

No, A small voice whispered in the back of her mind.  No, this is wrong.  Lykos is the one who has brainwashed you!  Focus, Heather!

Heather shook her head and ignored the voice.  She noticed a full-length mirror sitting across the room and gingerly stood up, unsure of her strength after the car crash.

Car crash, the voice murmured.  Belle, Ivy.  Where are they?  Are they okay?  What about Henry?  And Matt?  Damien?

“Shut up,” Heather said out loud. 

She quickly realized she didn’t need to worry about her strength; she felt rejuvenated, energy coursing through her body.  Her bare feet carried her lightly across the cold linoleum floor over to the mirror.  She gasped when she saw herself.

Heather had never thought of herself as beautiful.  There was always someone who was a better, prettier version of herself; there were always Ivys in the world.  But right now, she was an Ivy.

Her chocolate brown hair cascaded past her shoulders in loose ringlets.  Emerald green eyes sparkled beneath long, dark eyelashes.  Heather’s skin looked soft, tan, and healthy with slightly pink cheeks.  Red lips were parted slightly underneath her small nose.  Her clothes had changed; someone had put her in a silver racer-back tank top that flattered her, and black spandex shorts that made her legs look a mile long.  Any scratches, bruises, or cuts that had previously been on her body had disappeared, except for one.  In the midst of all this beauty, there was still one imperfection.

A long, jagged scar ran down Heather’s right cheek.  It started right beneath her eye and went all the way down to her jawline.  She tilted her head to the side slightly and ran her finger lightly along the length of the scar.  It looked as if someone had taken a pink marker and carelessly drew a wobbly line down the side of her face.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” A voice said behind Heather.  She jumped and whirled around, nerves on edge.  She hadn’t heard anyone come into the room, but when she saw the familiar face, she relaxed.

She cocked her head.  “Sorry for what?”

Felix gestured towards the scar.  “I had to crash the car to get you out.  I pulled you out of the car through the window, and the glass shattered.  One of the pieces got you good.  We tried all kinds of potions, but the wound was too deep.”

“It’s okay,” Heather smiled.  “You had to get me out of there.”  She felt comfortable with Felix in the room, even almost a bit guilty that she had killed him once.