as your love starts to surround you
all of their words are trying to drown you
The world is dark—too dark. She had fallen asleep, but she isn’t sure when and she isn’t sure why. As far as she remembers, she hadn’t even been tired. The last thing that Pyxis remembers is coming back from her adventures with Daemron—the thrill of the wolf magic just beginning to wear off—and then…that’s it. There is nothing else. Panic sets in when she hears the stranger’s voice, but it is nothing compared to the sheer horror when she feels her body begin to shift, when she loses her fur and her hair and is suddenly very cold. She feels small and vulnerable, and when she lifts her hands (hands) before her, she is gasping, flexing her fingers in awe. What has happened to her. What has she done.
Luckily, she is clothed—simple jeans, gray hoodie, and sneakers—but her knowledge of these things is what frightens her the most. “What have you done to me?” she cries, although she doesn’t expect an answer. “Where am I?” but this time, her voice is weaker—more of a whimper than anything. Suddenly dizzy, Pyxis turns to a corner and vomits, her stomach emptying itself, her newly formed body weak. She wipes her mouth and stands up, feeling her hands shake as she shoves them into her pockets.
It is then that she sees the doors.
The choice is clear, although an impending sense of doom settles over her shoulders; neither choice would be good for her. That much she knows. Pyxis aches for her family as she walks forward—her broken family—and her home, wherever that might be. Anywhere but here. Her hands are trembling as she grabs the handle of the red door, and she feels her stomach revolting as she twists it open, stepping forward.
***
It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the dark, to the rain, to the clattering sound of distant wheels on the cobblestoned streets. She gulps in the cold, polluted air, and her nose wrinkles. “Pyxis?” the voice sounds as if it is coming through fog, and she shakes her head trying to clear it. “Pyxis, you have to wake up,” it is clearer now, and the voice is suddenly rich with urgency and—fear? That doesn’t make sense.
“Pyxis, wake up! NOW. We have to go.”
She suddenly realizes that she is horizontal and there are rocks eating into her shoulder blades. She groans and her eyes open, the world fuzzy, two strange faces coming into focus, although both seem familiar. The first is a young girl, black ringlets framing her angelic face, her eyes a pale gold. The second is a male, his hair a deep red, his eyes the palest of silver. She has never seen them before, but she knows them.
Of course she does.
“Pyxis, please, wake up,” the girl is shaking her now, and Pyxis notices that there are tears on her cheeks. The man reaches down and wraps his arms beneath her waist, lifting her as he grunts. “Come on, sunshine.” Her stomach flips as she becomes vertical, and her knees buckle, but only for a second. Thankfully, only for a second. She leans against him, closing her eyes. “Thank you,” she breathes.
He brushes her chestnut hair from her damp forehead where it had been sticking. “Not a problem.” There is something in the way that he holds her, something both magnetic and terrifying, and she pushes away, feeling hot. The girl grabs her arm, “He’s coming.” It still doesn’t make sense, but Pyxis believes her, if only for the genuine terror in her voice. “He’s—“ the girl’s voice breaks, and she screams. “He’s here.”
That’s when the smell hits her. Pyxis gags as her companions grab her by the arm and drag her along. She notices the tear in the man’s jacket, the blood smeared on the girl’s ivory cheek. The street, which had been dark is suddenly alive with flickering streetlights, and it reeks of…something. Death. decay.
Shadows jump along the walls, and Pyxis cannot help the scream that comes uncorked—the sound raw and hoarse. She sees fangs and feels hot breath on her neck. They are running, but it does not feel like they are going fast enough. Her sneakers hit the ground and the group is now silent except for the sound of their ragged breathing, arms pumping as they run. The man grabs her by the arm and drags her to the right, and they are suddenly in an alley. It all happens so fast—too fast. Later, in her memory, it would be painfully slow. She would remember every second, every mistake for the rest of her life.
They reach a fence, and the strange man pushes her toward it. “Climb, Pyxis!” he yells, but she knows that it is already too late. The shadow is coming faster and faster now, and even as she is turning to yell for the girl, she can see the…thing (wolf, fiend, monster) is already on top of her. His fangs are already dug into her neck, and Pyxis can see the splatter of blood on the alley wall. The girl’s hair is matted with gore, and the life is already beginning to bleed from her eyes. “Run,” she croaks. “Run.”
“Ilka,” she screams, the name coming to her in a flash (her sister, not her sister). “No!” she is backing down from the fence, her sneaker already on the ground when she feels the man’s hand on her waist. “It’s too late,” his voice is strained, and before she knows it, he is shoving her over the fence. She lands on her knees, and she is crawling toward the fence, gripping it, screaming at the sight of the monster ripping into her sister’s stomach, at the steam crawling into the air. She almost does not notice that the man has picked her up, that he is running with her slung over his shoulder.
She almost does not notice anything at all.
The next thing she knows is her companion (Daemron, his name comes to her too) is cursing, fumbling in his pockets, shoving an ornate key into a dark wooden door. He lets her down, and she slips, numb with the pain, overwhelmed with the loss. He grabs her wrist and pulls her through the door and into the dark. She hears the click of the door closing shut, and then the sound of something thudding against it.
They had survived—but at what cost?
and you break, it's too late for you to fall apart
and the blame that you claim is all your own fault
