Origins of Blood Chapter 9: Chapter 8: Darkness Without Light

Read chapter 9 of Origins of Blood by Bloody_Potato on NovelPedia.

Elliot’s POV—Red Blood “Darkness comes with light; never light with darkness.” One day, after Elliot was transferred to the port of Kingdom Zentria. My hands shade from rust red to violet in the dim cellar’s light, and my fingers twitch involuntarily, nerves frayed from clenching fists. “Stop,” I mumble weakly. The blue-skinned kicks me on my bare side. Bones beneath my skin feel like shards that slice with every tremor. Tears return, softening the dried blood. “Please stop …” My fore and middle fingers twist to the side, and I scream so loud my lungs seem to burst. No words leave me. But air. “No!” … “Pl—” I scream, blood splashing from my arm. “—nghh … please!” My entire body flails, but I can’t escape their grasp. I feel my muscles spread; my bones being scratched; my pinky being twisted with my ring finger. Pain strangles me. Devours me—like they devour my blood. “Herrlich, die Poesie in ach so herzlichen Schreien.” I cough, bite into my shoulder, and try to bear it all—I fail miserably. “Stopp!” My mouth quivers, but the shout—choppy and harsh—belongs to another. “Aber, Boss … jetzt schon?” “Bringt nichts, wenn er nach ‘ner Woche schon schlapp macht.” The two, steadying me and the other one, cutting my arm, rise. “Klar,” they say discordantly. And another leaps over me, as if I were a forgotten doll. I fail to pinch my thigh, and warmth dribbles down my groin, killing the cold for a fleeting moment. I look into my wound, and my edges turn dark—a bone juts from my forearm. My eyes close. Flicker. And boil against the faint laughter of these monsters. The air stays humid and metallic throughout it all. “Open … mouth.” Broken English, so I squint upward—it’s the faceless. “Hogh … eh,” I manage, already reaching for its blood like a fish for breadcrumbs. I swallow a half mouthful as the long, stretched creature pulls me by my hair, dragging me over the sticky, cold floor. I struggle. My body must look like a stranded fish; yet, I feel as if I were underwater with everything dimming and pulling me like the grief of deepwater. For a moment, my brother’s face swims with me. His smile. His innocent smile. He can’t be dead. He mustn’t be—but the shadows only grow bigger. And there can be no light—not here. Again, I cry. Its fingernails run over my chest, then to my right shoulder, till they reach the exposed flesh. I groan. No scream. It laughs, “You … you have no … God .” Hollowed eyes begin to sparkle like emeralds as its hand presses against my jutted bone. I feel it pressing harder. My teeth break through the clenching, and finally. I scream again. “Stop!” Nothing. “Plea—” I cry till my voice shatters, till I break. But before that, another bone-crushing sound erupts. Warmth leaves my back, my whole body. Numb. “My blood …” it searches for words, “… heal … pig ,” and it pours more of its green fluid over my wounds. My fingers twist once more. Right, however, back into place. I flail, and my calves cramp; toes splay. “Hurts?” it says, almost motherly. But I face it … face the twisted grin, the crooked laugh whenever I scream without voice. The world turns pastel; my eyelids grow heavy—everything ebbs. And before my edges dim into utter darkness … before shadows can consume what little light there’s left … before that, the faceless creature hunches forward. No, not faceless, as a face builds over its missing one. Pale skin loosens, dribbles like blood from an open wound, and rebuilds itself with greenish tissue that binds everything like a sewing machine repairs a hole in trousers. Shadows pull me in as the mocking laugh grows distant. It gazes—eyes wide, dimples bright—the pure innocence of a child. My face must pale, as I linger on those ocean-blue eyes … those waves of sandy hair … those … so alike my own, the only difference being the absence of stubble. It’s Ren—my little brother. And it robs his smile without a bother. I try to raise my trembling hand to its—his, my world’s—oval face, but darkness swallows me … grows