44

Thick saliva and blood dripped from Analia’s parted lips, smearing down her chin and onto my face. It trailed like hot liquid fire down my bare neck, mixing with the sweat pooling on my skin. The blood leaking from her mouth confirmed I’d managed to hurt her, but it wasn’t enough. The weight of her body slammed into mine again, driving a sharp yelp from my constricting throat.

Her hands tightened around my neck, nails digging into my flesh like talons. With a vicious snarl, she drew back, her wild eyes gleaming with unbridled fury, and then she lunged forward, smashing her forehead against mine with brutal force.

A choked scream clawed its way up my throat but died before it could escape. Pain splintered through my skull, radiating in sharp, unbearable waves. My vision swam, doubling her beastlike figure as tears pricked and blurred my sight. The metallic tang of blood trickled down my scalp, warm and sticky, mingling with the sweat pouring down my temples.

She growled low in her throat, an inhuman, guttural sound that sent shivers coursing down my spine.

“Stop!” I rasped, my voice strangled, barely audible. My gaze darted to the nurse. “Shoot!” I screamed with whatever air I could muster.

The nurse stood frozen, trembling by the doorway, the gun shaking violently in her hands. Her sobs wracked her shoulders, tears spilling down her blotchy face. She wasn’t aiming, not even close—just clutching the weapon as if it might vanish if she let go.

My lungs burned, desperate for air as Analia’s hands tightened their grip around my neck, squeezing like a vise. My chest heaved, my body convulsing as I clawed at her fingers, trying to pry them away. But she was stronger, fueled by a rage that burned hotter than mine. Her knee pressed into my stomach, grinding down with brutal force, choking the life out of me.

I turned my head toward the nurse, my eyes pleading, silently screaming for her to help. To do something.

Analia’s hands flew from my throat suddenly, leaving me gasping and clutching at the tender skin, my nails digging into my own flesh as I fought to drag air into my lungs. But relief was short-lived. A fist slammed into the side of my face, snapping my head to the right with bone-jarring force. Pain exploded in my jaw, my teeth rattling as blood filled my mouth.

Another punch, this one sending my head whipping to the left, sharp pain shooting down my neck.

“Stop!” I screamed, my voice cracking with desperation, but Analia didn’t stop. She was relentless, her growls and snarls filling the air like the sounds of a feral beast.

My patience snapped.

With every ounce of strength I could summon, I pressed my palms to the floor and heaved my body upward. The wooden planks beneath me groaned as I used every muscle in my body to shove her off me. Analia was thrown backward, her body hitting the floor with a loud thud.

She shrieked in fury, scrambling to her feet with a guttural cry. Her wild eyes locked on me, and she lunged again, her hands outstretched like claws ready to tear me apart.

Adrenaline surged through my veins, hot and electric, flooding my system until it drowned out everything else—the pain, the fear, the exhaustion. My heart thundered in my chest, my breaths coming fast and shallow.

As she launched herself at me, I ducked low, sliding across the blood-slicked floor and crawling away. My hands slipped on the sticky mess, my knees burning as they scraped against the wood, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

When she came at me again, I turned the tables. Grabbing her outstretched hands, I yanked her forward and hooked my leg behind hers, throwing her off balance. She hit the floor hard, and I didn’t waste the opportunity. I rolled over her, pinning her down with my weight, my knees pressing into her arms. Her body thrashed beneath me, her blood-smeared face twisted in pure rage.

“I don’t want to fight you!” I shouted, my voice hoarse. My hands wrapped around her neck, firm but not crushing. Her chest heaved as she glared up at me, her lips curling back in a snarl. “But I swear, if you don’t stop trying to kill me—” I brought my fist down, striking her across the cheek. Once, twice, three times. Each hit left my knuckles throbbing, but I didn’t stop. “You’ll leave me no choice.”

Her struggles slowed, her head lolling to the side as her breath came in ragged gasps.

Then, a deafening gunshot shattered the air.

The sound was so close it felt like it split my skull in two. My ears rang, a high-pitched whine drowning out all other noise. I flinched, dropping instinctively. My body collapsed onto Analia’s chest, and for a moment, all I could hear was the hammering of my heart.

Blood trickled down the side of my head, warm and sticky. Slowly, I reached up, my fingers trembling as they brushed against the jagged edge of a cut near my ear.

Beneath me, Analia wheezed, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Her eyes flickered open, and for the first time, there was something other than rage in them. Confusion. Pain.

I pushed myself off her, my movements sluggish, and turned toward the nurse. She stood frozen, the gun still clutched in her hands, the barrel smoking faintly. Her face was pale, her mouth hanging open in shock.

She had finally taken the shot. And she had missed. The sickening throb of my body pulsed through every inch of me, a constant reminder of the violence I had just endured. The pain spread like wildfire, igniting every nerve, but there was no time to collapse, no time to surrender to the agony. My hand reached out to her, fingers trembling but determined. My legs buckled slightly under me as I forced myself to move, scrambling over the lifeless body of the man in the living room, my heart pounding in my ears. With each labored step, the world around me felt more distant, like I was sinking in slow motion.

I closed the distance between us, my blood-soaked hand reaching for hers, feeling the slick warmth of the crimson streaking her skin. Her trembling fingers hesitated, and for a moment, I thought she might pull away. But then she slid her hand into mine, and I squeezed with all the strength I had left, a brief moment of comfort in this nightmare. I tugged her forward, almost dragging her with me, collecting the gun from her limp hand, the cold steel a grim reminder of how close we had come to losing everything.

She stared at me, her wide eyes fixed on the fresh cut at the edge of my ear, blood still trickling down my face. I saw the guilt flash across her features, the horror in her expression as she took in the damage. I forced a breath out, my voice coming out rough and hoarse, my throat burning with every word. “You... tried.”

I saw her open her mouth to apologize, to say something that would probably make me feel worse, but I didn’t let her. “No,” I interrupted, my grip on her tightening for just a second. “It’s not your fault. Just... never do that again. Hold a gun.”

Her lips trembled, but she nodded, her shoulders shaking. I let go of her hand, my eyes locking on hers as I tried to steady my breath. My body was screaming, but there was no time to feel it. Not yet.

“What’s your name?” I asked, the words rasping from my throat, as if each syllable weighed more than the last.

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to the mess of blood around us, the chaos and the death that had somehow become our reality. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper, “Clarice.”

I tugged Clarice forward, my grip tight on her trembling hand. "Alright, Clarice, we need to find Dominic. Now."

We were running out of time, and I had to push past the pain that throbbed in my body. My mind was fixated on Dominic, wherever he was. But as I moved, something made me stop, a sense of unease creeping up my spine. I turned back to look at Analia.

She was still on the floor, staring up at me, breath shallow, chest heaving. I could feel the weight of her gaze, cold and unwavering. I knew I had to say something, though I wasn’t sure why.

I hesitated, words tangled in my throat, but finally pushed them out. "Just... think about Dominic. What would he feel if he saw you like this? His little sister... a beast."

There was silence between us, thick and uncomfortable. Analia’s eyes didn’t blink. She didn’t flinch. Instead, a low growl rumbled in her chest, like a warning shot. It was chilling, primal, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken.

She didn’t respond, not with words, but with that growl. The kind of growl that let me know she wasn’t done—not by a long shot.

In one fluid motion, Analia propelled herself off the floor, her body moving with an unsettling, almost animalistic grace. I barely had time to process the shift before she was standing, her gaze locked onto mine, cold and calculating, as though weighing whether to tear me apart then and there. The tension in the air was suffocating, thick with the threat of violence.

Without breaking her gaze, she crouched low, her fingers snaking around the dead man’s gun, yanking it from his lifeless grip with terrifying ease. She stood, now holding the weapon steady, her eyes narrowing as she aimed it directly at me. I reacted on instinct, raising my own gun in return. We were locked in a deadly standoff, both of us waiting to see who would pull the trigger first, who would make the move that would determine who lived and who died.

Analia's mouth opened, and the sound that emerged wasn’t the sharp, commanding voice I remembered—it was garbled, uneven, and raw, like words clawing their way out of a throat that could no longer shape them. "Sh-shut... f-fuh...fuck up, El-lie!" she spat, the effort contorting her face. The words came out mangled, guttural, a mixture of desperate sounds and fractured syllables. Her voice was soaked in frustration, the kind that could only come from knowing the words in your mind but being unable to make them whole. Each syllable carried the weight of humiliation and rage, forcing me to confront the cruel reality of her mutilation.

The words cut through the tense silence, but it wasn’t the harshness that froze me. It was the way they came out—slurred and broken, as if her tongue had been sliced clean off. My heart skipped a beat as I stared at her, my breath catching in my throat. It was then that I noticed the smooth, jagged edges where her tongue should have been. It hit me like a punch to the gut—how long had it been like this? How long had she been silenced in this cruel way?

For a moment, my gun wavered, my finger hesitating on the trigger. The realization that Analia, this fierce, terrifying woman, had been reduced to this... It struck a chord deep within me. She wasn’t just a monster anymore. She was someone who had suffered, too, someone who had been broken by forces beyond her control. The sadness in that realization almost made me lower my weapon.

Almost.