The Creed: Stand and Feel Your Worth
#7 of The Creed
I could've gone longer on this, and probably should have, but I REALLY wanted to end on that line.
When J asked if I was alright, something inside me broke. I had spent months longing for my mate, only to witness his death at my return. I most definitely was not alright, and felt as if I never would be. Alice was no more, it seemed, and I, her ghost, were all that was left. And so I ran.
Miles of blurry dirt and asphalt passed under foot in a midnight fury as I struggled to grasp at reality. No sobs, no screams, no wails asking why. No bargaining, no real denial, and absolutely no acceptance. I had long been turning my sorrow into rage, and so I did. I didn't mourn. I didin't grieve. I ran.
I ran through the night, in the cold of the coming winter. Ty's jacket was warm with sticky blood which stained my shirt underneath. I couldn't care, though: it was his, and it kept me going. Blood from my brother, my lover, my protector, tied us together in a way that never should have been. All I had left of Ty was blood, and so I ran, a sanguine mixture of Ty and I running down my arm: an old wound reopened.
I ran away. From my past. From my home. From my brother. I never stopped running, not when I was sure things I was going to be all right, and not when I knew they wouldn't be. I wouldn't stop, couldn't stop, because no matter how far I ran, I couldn't get away from what I must needed to: myself. I was the problem; if it weren't for me, Ty wouldn't be in New Orleans to start with; at least not now. He never would have gotten into the mess he did, and would probably still be alive. But he wasn't still alive, and it was all because of me. The bright lights of the city were behind me, almost mocking in their cheeriness. Beyond was the many lonely miles of the Causeway, standing over obsidian waves. Luck had brought me to the path home, but that's not where I was going. I turned my back on the way home and proceeded to go to Ty's apartment. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, as I had barely slept at all in the past 48 hours, but still I ran.
Trudging up the fire escape, I finally managed to crawl into the barren apartment through the open window, taking a moment to lay on the barren mattress, exhausted. After stretching briefly, I stood up and made my way to the bathroom and stepped inside the dingy tub, undressing all the way until I had nothing left on me. I turned on the water as hot as it would go and grabbed my knife, still bearing the stain of another's blood, and got to work on one last carving. Blood mixed with rising water, and still I worked, the cuts steadily becoming deeper and more brutal until I began to feel faint. Everything goes numb as the world fades to black.
There's a knock at the door. Too tired to respond, I simply ignored it and went back to sleep. The knock came again, and soon I heard the door open. "Alice?" Ty said. "Are you in there? I need you to help me with something." Of course, I began to say_,_ but I stopped when I came to a realization: Ty was dead, and forever would be. I opened my mouth to say so, water came rushing in. I threw myself up and out of the water, coughing and sputtering water and blood. I struggled to crawl out of the slick tub, will for life renewed, and jarringly fell to the cold floor, dripping with blood and water. Panting, I stayed there for several seconds before I noticed the jackal standing above me.
"You've got quite a bit of unfinished business," she said, reaching out a hand to help me up. The second I grabbed it though, she disappeared. "But you need to help yourself." I lay back on the ground and looked at my wounds. Fortunately, the lacerations didn't appear to be too deep, and didn't bleed very much once I was out of the hot water, bur nevertheless I couldn't survive on my own. My pants lay just barely out of reach, and inside them, a phone. I inched closer to them, struggling to reach it. One more inch and I'll have them. Pushing myself forward, I managed to grab the leg and pull it back towards me. The jeans, stiff with sweat, slowly slid back to me, and I was finally able to slip the phone out of the pocket. I pressed the call button and selected J's name from recent calls.
"Hello?" He asked. With the last of my strength I replied with a single word.
"Help."
15 minutes later
J rushed up to Ty's apartment, kicking down the door the moment he saw it. Purp and another assassin followed him in as he rushed into the apartment. Seeing no one there, he looked in the bathroom to meet with a macabre sight. Alice's nude form lie prone in a small pool of blood, a phone in her hand. Several lacerations that resembled scroll work had been carved into her, on top of other, older scars that appeared to have been made by the same hand. The bathtub was also filled with a scarlet mixture of blood and water, a knife visible in the bottom. J flipped over Alice and listened closely for a heartbeat. He was rewarded with a faint but definite pounding. "Purp! She's here, and still alive! Grab some clean towels and a razor! Alex, you try and find a sewing needle, dental floss, and alcohol. Quick!" Purp returned first, carrying a stack of towels from the laundry downstairs. Curious to see what all the commotion was about, the landlord followed him up and stood in the doorway of the apartment.
"What in the hell is going up here?" He asked as J began to dry off the otter. "Suicide attempt, it looks like," he responded. "Do you have any hard liquor? We need something to sterilize the wounds." Rather than question further, the landlord rushed downstairs to grab some. J grabbed the razor that Purp had brought with him, and proceeded to lightly shave the areas around the wounds, careful not to let any fur fall back into the wound. "Sorry about that," J mumbled underneath his breath. "But that fur's gonna grow back after a while." The cuts didn't seem to be too deep, but they were long and had been open for a while. The landlord returned with a bottle of rum and Alex with a needle and floss. J grabbed the rum and proceeded to wash the wounds with it. Alice twitched a bit, but didn't wake as the golden fire cascaded down her body. After carefully threading the floss through the needle, J got to work stitching the wounds, careful to periodically stem bloodflow from the ones he wasn't currently working on. After an hour or so, his work was done. "Do you have anything we can use as a stretcher?" J asked the landlord.
"Um, maybe. Where are you taking her?" he replied.
"Well, I don't suppose you'd like a dying suicidal otter in your apartment for much longer than you'd have to," answered Purp. "Now, what did you say about a stretcher?"
When I awoke, I was strapped to a board that was being lowered into a car by several tall figures. Everything hurt, from the pounding headache to the burning wounds that were closed up with crude stitches.
"Here, someone go grab her clothes, and make sure you grab the white jacket. That seems to be really important to her," said a familiar voice.
"Look, she's waking up!" said a new voice that I couldn't place. One of the figures looked down at me, and I finally recognized him as J.
"Feelin' okay?" he asked, and I tried to nod in response, but my head was also strapped down. "I'm fine," I replied, not recognizing my voice for the cracking.
"Could someone grab her a bottle of water?" J called out. "Look, you lost a lot of blood, so try not to move too much, and speak as little as possible. We don't want you to end up like Ty. I stitched you up, but I didn't have much to work with, so the sutures aren't the best. Are you sure you're feeling okay, Alice?" That made me think. When J asked if I was alright the first time, something inside me broke. I replied mindlessly that I was no longer Alice, but Wraith. But I wasn't Wraith. Not then. I ran then. But now, I stopped running. I finally decided to live life. Baptized in blood and sworn to vengeance Wraith was born.
"My name's not Alice," I croaked. "And I feel fucking amazing."