a/n: ok. this is being re-edited with extra scenes, scene cuts and extra "chapters", or interludes. meaning, if you see anything, and i mean anything that sounds weird, doesn't sit right, wrong spelling/grammar, anything i didn't write clearly, can someone please tell me?? i tend to ramble a bit in first-person, which is OK in this story because of the main character, but if i ramble just a bit too much, just let me know? thanks to old readers and new readers and everyone who has/will review!! i don't think there'll be any a/n's after this one, unless its important.
old readers: nothing major will be changed. those that still have this on alert, if the chapter has "interlude" as the title, its an added scene of lucan's POV, and if anything's majorly different in the chapter, i will say at the start, ok?? so you don't need to read this again (not unless you want to lol). thanks!!
She was babbling. "A-angels and de-demons…"
The White Coats closed in on her. "Calm down, Grace. Calm down. You're safe here. No one will hurt you."
But her eyes swung wildly around in her head, taking in her surroundings. They were a bright, crazed blue, bloodshot and glazed. "No, no, no. Not safe. They'll find me. They said they'd find me. I've gotta hide. Gotta hide. They got my parents. Killed them. Blood. All blood..."
Hands wrapped around her arms. She fought in their hold. "Calm down!" Voices shouted around her. So many. All changing. All different. "Someone get a sedative!"
She fought harder, thrashing against those around her. "NO! Get away from me!" She stared up at a fair-haired man and screeched. "Get away from me! Get away! NO! Get away! No!"
Grips tightened. Fingers dug into skin. Bruises.
"Hold her tight!" Someone shouted, shouted so loud. She saw a flash of silver. Liquid sprayed into the air. She watched it, mouth hanging open. A scream tore up from her throat as the needle punctured her skin, guttural and afraid. It warbled into silence. She fought until she had no strength and even then she tried to keep going. "No…" she moaned, her lids heavy as they flickered shut. "Gotta geh…way…"
Darkness consumed her.
Rocking back and forth, her arms wrapped around her knees and pushing them into a rapidly beating heart, she flicked her eyes quickly about the room. They were there. In the shadows. She knew they were. Watching her. Laughing at her. Plotting ways to kill her. She shuddered as images flooded her mind.
Blood. Blood everywhere. Splattered over the floor and broken faces, broken places. The rug on the floor, once white, was now stained scarlet. It was on her. Warm and slippery. It was on her fingers. Her face.
"No…" she moaned, rocking faster, harder. "Stop."
But they didn't. Memories came over her, blending with reality.
They had just finished eating. They sat in the Lounge Room, watching television. She had gone to get a drink and when she returned, They were there. A group of them. Dressed in darkness.
Some had things on their backs. Big things, white and brown, grey and black. They were feathered. Others had a texture like leather. Wings.
Their skin was coloured: dark, light; stained red. Coarse hair and lines of feathers, patches of leather and flesh that revealed pulsing veins underneath.
Others had tails. They wound around their owner's legs and bodies, flesh coloured, some hairy, long and rodent-like. They hadn't seen her. They were talking to her parents. But she could hardly hear. She was too busy staring at their hands. Claws. Talons. Mouths opened, voices raised. Shouting. Cursing. Then, she saw them. Teeth. Fangs.
They approached her parents. 'Sorry's and 'too-lates'––
"Blood," she gasped, her fingers ripping into her skin. "So much blood."
Destroyed. Her parents were destroyed. All blood and skin and shrieking. She could hear material ripping, and she knew the talons had cut into the cushions on the lounge. Her mother had been screaming. Her father couldn't. His throat had been ripped out. Blood. So much blood.
And then they saw her. Pale blue eyes caught mine, set in a face of scars and blackness. He nodded his head to the others. They turned to me. All with frightening strange faces, that made my heart leap and twist. They approached. Speaking— Turning, I fled.
Blood. So much blood. Everywhere. All over her. And then the thumpthumpthumping. Feet on the floorboards. Claws taptaptapping on the wood and the walls. Closer. Closer. Fresh air. Death. So close. Hands on her. Around her. Wings beating—black like the night sky. Green eyes. Blonde hair. An angel. A black-winged Angel.
An ethereal voice that came from echoes: Lucan. My name is Lucan.
Hands on her. Tight. Painful. She thrashed. "No! Let me go! Help!"
White Coats closing in. Hands and needles. Voices telling her it was OK. It would all be fine.
Pain and darkness.
"What do you think?"
They appraised the patient in the room. On the other side of the Two-Way Mirror, a skinny girl with honey coloured hair sat at the table. Sitting on a hard-backed white chair, she had her legs drawn up to her chest, hugging them tightly. She kept moving her eyes quickly about the room; a bloodshot blue. Wide and suspicious, she kept them mostly on the glass. She knew they were behind there.
A man with greying brown hair glanced down at his clipboard and then at the subject. "She's unstable. Her mind's broken, her thoughts are scattered at best. She can't distinguish reality from fantasy. Her memories have merged with her imagination. To her, her parent's were murdered by Angels and Demons." Turning his gaze to the young girl in the room once again, whose eyes were on a spot straight above his face, he shook his head. "She will never get out of here."