Page 94 of Degradation

Right now, I doubt she has the strength to make it, and yet, I won’t let her die. Not like this.

I scoop her up, carrying her to the bedroom and lay her down on the bed. She’s breathing a little more regularly, she’s shifting enough to prove I’ve not lost her.

I don’t want to do it, but I know she can’t just sleep this off, so I leave her there, leave her alone, and I race down to the infirmary, grabbing the first doctor I can find.

When we get back to her, she hasn’t even moved. She’s just lying there, and for one awful moment I think she’s stopped breathing.

The doctor stares in horror when he realises who it is.

“Just fucking fix her.” I snarl.

He gives me a look that ordinarily would have earnt him a beating but right now, but I need him, so I let it go.

He grabs his supplies and starts checking her over, muttering under his breath.

“She needs blood.” He states, like I don’t know that fact. Like she hasn’t bled out half a gallons worth all over the bathroom floor.

“So go fucking get it,” I spit back.

He shakes his head, muttering again. “There are rules, things in place, everything is signed out.”

“Like I give a fuck.” I reply. “If she dies, you die.”

“The Chapter Lord will need to be informed.”

I don’t think, I don’t hesitate, I haul his arse up, slam him into the wall, my hand wrapped around his puny throat. I shove my face right into his and I can feel the way this pathetic excusefor a human being is shitting himself. “Do your job and keep your mouth shut.” I growl before letting him drop to the floor.

He scrambles up, scrambles away.

When he returns, there’s a nurse with him. He starts barking orders, telling her what to do, telling me to move, as if I’m going to listen to him.

He puts in a line, hangs a bag of blood and I watch as the nurse starts connecting it all up.

“How long before she’s stable?” I ask.

The nurse shrugs. The doctor just looks at me and looks away like he’s too afraid to answer that question.

He unwraps the bandages and hisses when he sees how deep the wounds are.

Slowly, he starts stitching her skin back together. I tilt my head, watching as he does it, seeing the way her flesh folds, the way it fits back like a jigsaw piece where the bits aren’t quite right.

When he’s done, he says something about monitoring her. I nod my head, telling him to wait outside. He and the nurse too.

Paitlyn is lying there, half dazed, looking as if she’s completely detached from reality.

“Malkta.” I murmur.

Those beautiful features screw up and she turns those now hollow eyes on me.

“Don’t.” She says so quietly.

I crouch down, picking up her arm, examining the damage. She’s fucked up the pretty pattern I made of her skin. All those pretty scars, those nice little swirls, they don’t line up right anymore. I want to be mad at her, I want to be furious.

But my head is whispering things, whispering fears that I’ve never experienced before.

And there’s a panic in my chest that I can’t silence. I can’t stop.

When I fix my gaze back on her face, she shudders.