Crimson Lace

Chapter 29

ELLE
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I don't stop moving as Josie and Celeste come to greet me. My legs follow a mind of their own and my body is vibrating with adrenaline after the whole debacle in the streets. I can't feel anything other than the feral need for comfort. For him. He has to be all right. If he dies for protecting me, I won't be able to live with myself.

I go to move the white curtain in which a shattering cry is erupting from behind, but a pair of arms wrap around my own, keeping me in place.

"Release me!" I scream, thrashing against the person's strong grip. "Let me go!"

They turn me around, keeping my arms firm in their dark, bronze hands. And when I meet her warm brown eyes I find a hint of relief flicker back at me. Josephine looks me over quickly.

"What happened out there? Don't scare us like that."

I shake my head, ridding myself of the memory of bodies collapsing, heartbeats fading out. Chains and children crying and skin and bones and chaos and smoke and—and Alec who was far away, dying without me by his side. He is in pain. He is hurt and I am not holding his hand. Another cry escapes the curtain and I tense.

The words stick in my mouth pathetically as I whimper, "Please let me see him."

Celeste comes up from behind me, a cold, frail hand brushes across my back and I hiss as it trails over the claw marks on my neck. I had forgotten they were there. She takes my hand, giving it a tight squeeze as I turn to look at her. Greeting the face of the woman who has always been so kind to me. Who let me help out in this small hospital, taught me what I need to know about wounds and injuries every time I brought Wesley here for help.

She showed me how to care for the lashes on his back, the bruising he would have around his eyes. How to help him when he had another concussion or had gotten beaten to the pulp.

My heart throbs, my neck stings. Blood oozes down my back and all I can think of is everyone I've lost. The lives I had to take today in order to save others. The pain of being in pain for so long and the exhaustion of knowing it will probably never stop.

The weight of the torture I have endured this past week, the cruelty of the Nobles who raised me, the constant threat of dying slams into me all at once. My life is hell.

"Celeste—please," I cry, falling forward into her as my vision spots and the world spins on its axis. Her filthy, blue blouse is drenched in blood but I bury my nose in her shoulder anyway. I give into the weakness and let my mind silence itself.

**********

The world is dark and cruel. We are guppies swimming in a pond of sharks and no matter how many rocks we can hide under, no matter how fast we can swim, there is always a bigger fish. And it never ends. The constant pretending to be compliant, pretending to be strong while they strip away our dignity and beat us down again and again. Until we are as broken and as twisted as they claim us to be.

We become the monsters they say we are. I became that monster as the hidden strength within me claimed the lives of the Noble guards.

My limbs are stiff. I can't feel my toes as I try to wiggle them under the scratchy, linen blankets. There is light behind my lashes. Dim. Unnatural. Not from a window.

I open my eyes, sitting up far too fast. My head spins and vision turns splotchy as a wave of dizziness overtakes me. One glance around tells me everything I need to know.

I'm a patient. Again.

Only this time, patient doesn't mean prisoner.

I look down to find that I have been dressed in a pair of black cargo pants and a grey tank-top. Typical Serf clothing. Much more comfortable compared to the tight suit that Keaton stuck me in.