Supernatural Boarding School #3 - A Brush of Death ✅

Chapter 36 - Demona

Demona's point of view

When I emerged from the blackness I had long since accepted as my private prison, my heart was pounding so hard I felt like I just might crash. Just moments before, people had been shouting around me and I'd been scared that someone might get hurt. Right now though, it was eerily quiet.

When I opened my eyes, the light overwhelmed me completely. Everything was bright and white, hurting my sensitive eyes. My fangs shot out of their own accord, piercing my lower lip. A single drop of blood made its way down my chin. I reached up to wipe it off.

And I did.

I moved!

Finally, finally, I could move. Scratch my nose, pull a hand through my hair, sit up. I tried to do so, but it was too much too soon. Nauseous, I sunk back into the cushions. I closed my eyes and reached inward, trying to reach Simon and Eros. Immediately, white hot pain shot up my entire body and a mist so thick it was almost solid folded itself around my already foggy mind.

Gasping, I rolled to my side and clutched my head, feeling like it might just split open. It took a moment before I could think straight again. I glanced around the room again and realized that the whiteness I had noticed earlier wasn't the light at all. The curtains weren't drawn entirely and the small stroke of window I could see, showed me a midnight blue sky. It wasn't the light that was bright – it was the room itself.

Hospital, I realized soon enough. It's a hospital room. Which made sense, considering how awful I felt. It didn't explain why I was alone, though. Ever since I'd been able to hear things again, I'd been drifting in and out of consciousness and every time I'd resurfaced, someone had been there, talking to me or about me or at least near me. Simon, Eros, Dylan, Mom, Anne, Antwan, Will, Minnie, Greg, Sam, Sheila, and on and on and on. Everyone had come to see me. There were times where I'd wished they'd just shut up or eat least not be so goddamn loud.

Still, it had been nice to hear their voices. Especially Eros and Simon. They both sounded great these days. Simon was almost always with Sheila and I'd come to understand it. She was sweet to him in a way she'd never been around any of us before. He adored her. Good for them.

Eros... I wasn't sure how I felt about him. Sure, I loved him, but I also wanted to slap him. He was perfectly stable, or so it seemed when I heard him talking to others. That was great, but hurtful at the same time. I still didn't know who he'd slept with, but I felt like he should be beating himself up over that. Surely he didn't think it was okay to cheat on a girl in a coma? On me?

Where were Eros and Simon right now? No matter how long I had been out, shouldn't they be here? Or at least tuned into me so they could rush over when I woke up?

I tried to reach them again, but the pain was so intense it left me gasping. Without the bond to center me, I felt utterly and completely alone. It had been so long since I'd been completely alone in my own head that I didn't know what to make of it.

To distract myself from the fog in my brain and the pain that made my body unable to get up from the bed, I lifted my head ever so slightly and looked around. It seemed the room was mine alone: no other patients or beds. There were plenty of chairs, and clothes, books and junk food was piled on some of them.

What caught my eye next was one of the walls. It was white like the others, put tiny pieces of red, black and white paper seemed to attached to it. While I squinted my eyes and tried to ignore the pain surging up behind them, I recognized them for what they were. Playing cards.

My breathing became ragged as I realized how long I must have been here already. A card a day keeps the nightmares away, I remembered writing to Dylan before plunging into the dark hole I had been stuck in until now. If Eros had gotten this many of them, I must have been out a hell of a long time.

Still, no one was coming for me, no one had noticed me through the bond. The machines I seemed to be hooked up to were silently beeping, but no one had noticed a change in my vitals, or they would be at my bedside already – right?

I had no idea how long I would be in my right mind, able to look around, to feel, to think. Already, fatigue was overtaking my body, encouraging it to shut down. I knew it was inevitable, but I couldn't give into it, not just yet.

With a groan, I pulled myself up and opened my mouth to shout, to get someone's attention. Absolutely no sound came out. Crap.

I looked around for a notebook, a piece of paper, anything. Of course, there wasn't anything close enough to get it without ending up face-first on the floor, unconscious. There was, however, a pen on the nightstand, just close enough to reach.

With my last ounces of strength, I scribbled a short message on the back of my hand, hoping that it would be readable. It was hard to make out with my eyes glazed over with the fog that was taking over more and more every second.

I gasped when my back arched in pain, the pen rolling from my right hand. My left side cramped up completely, my hands clenching into fists. I tried to fight the dark vapor surging around in my entire being, but I just didn't have the strength anymore.

With a last spasm, I fell back into the dark hole I had emerged from.