Page 123 of Degradation

Good.

Warm liquid begins to seep from the wound I’m creating, not blood, but something thicker and more viscous. It glows faintly in the darkness, the first light I’ve seen since arriving in this place. The sight of it fills me with a fierce joy that borders on madness.

I can hurt it.

I can make it bleed.

The entity’s distress is palpable now, communicated through vibrations in the walls and floor. The heartbeat becomes irregular, frantic. But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. This is the first real power I’ve had; the first time I’ve been the one inflicting pain instead of receiving it.

“How does it feel?” I ask the darkness as I work my fingers deeper into the wound. “How does it feel to be helpless? To be weak?”

The glowing fluid is flowing more freely now, pooling around my feet and casting eerie shadows on the walls. In the faint light, I can see that my suspicions were correct, the surfaces around me are definitely organic, ribbed like the inside of some massive throat or stomach. I am inside something, and that something is now bleeding because of me.

The discovery should horrify me, but instead it fills me with a cold satisfaction. They wanted to feed me to the darkness? Fine. But I’m not going down easy. I’m going to tear this thing apart from the inside.

I reach deeper into the wound, feeling my arm sink up to the elbow in warm, yielding flesh. The entity’s screams echo through the space around me, not sounds, exactly, but vibrations that I feel in my bones. It’s in agony, and I’m the cause.

For the first time since arriving in this place, I smile.

“This is just the beginning.” I promise the darkness. “This is just the start of what I’m going to do to everyone who put me here.”

The light from the entity’s blood grows brighter, and in its glow, I can finally see my own reflection in the wet walls. The face looking back at me is gaunt and wild-eyed, streaked with luminescent fluid and dried blood.

I look like a madwoman.

I look like a monster.

I look absolutely fucking perfect.

Devin

I’m close enough on their tail for them to notice.

I didn’t want to be, but it would have roused more suspicion for me to have stayed back. Stupid fucking car that was in between us had to be a selfish prick and make a right turn and that left me exposed. Left me visible.

Besides, I’m not expecting to get anything out of today. It’s a reccy, nothing more.

Each bend my brother takes feels like he’s slipping further from my grasp, taunting me with the possibility that not only does he know where Paitlyn is, but he delights in the fact I don’t.

It’s a game of chase, like a wolf playing with its prey.

And I fucking hate it.

I grip the wheel tighter, feeling the familiar pulse of frustration itching in my fingertips. My brother is sharper than he looks, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that he always has one eye trained on the rearview mirror.

I drop back, keep better distance, attempting to blend in with the sparse traffic; a passing car swiftly grants me the shelter I need, and I breathe out, if only for a moment.

Then the instinct kicks in, my gut screams in rebellion. He knows I’m here. The way he turned just before the drive suggested he caught a glimpse of something amiss. Every sense in my body ignites with tension.

I pull back further, letting the distance grow, annoyed at how easily he seems to read my moves.

Suddenly, we’re weaving through backroads. My heart races, it thrums in sync with the rhythm of the tires against the tarmac. I can’t shake the feeling that Conrad is leading me on a wild goose chase, that he’s enjoying this cat-and-mouse game a little too much.

The sky is a canvas of brooding greys, the sun a mere suggestion behind the thickening clouds. It’s as if nature itself is conspiring to reflect the turmoil within me.

I find myself on a stretch of road lined with overgrown brush and dilapidated fences, the kind of place that time forgot. The road isn’t even tarmac, it’s something older, it’s covered in potholes. Pitted with them.

It’s here, in this neglected slice of the world, that Conrad’s car slows to a crawl before disappearing behind a copse of trees.