Page 14

THE LIGHT BURNED her eyes. Ruby clawed her way through the disorientation, unsure how much time had passed, where she was, where she had been.

“Holy shit, there actually was someone here.” A hand gripped her shoulder, shaking gently. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

Someone else, louder but further, responded. “It doesn’t make any sense. There’s no way she could’ve been under the concrete. She’d be dead. What the hell is going on?”

“There was a wooden box in the ground. She was in the box.”

Rubble surrounded her. Nothing but rubble and men in hard hats. The walls collapsed. The ground crumbled. What was happening?

“Ma’am?”

It was a reflex, the way she shoved away from the man. His hand was on her shoulder then hers was on his chest then he was across the room, crumpling onto the ground. Had she done that? There was no way. She was strong, but not that strong.

Where was Andy?

She scanned the room of faces, but none of the men were familiar.

Andy’s dea—

No.

She shook the thought away. Andy wasn’t dead. Where the fuck is Andy ?

The faces stared back at her, trepidation oozing from their very beings. Why did they look so afraid ? Was that man here?

She tried to stand. Her legs buckled under the weight. Looking down, she found them covered in deep cuts. Upward. Her arms covered in the same, pieces of wood splintering into the skin.

“Don’t move ma’am. An ambulance is on the way.”

The men didn’t matter. She barely heard them.

“Where—” She tried to speak. It came out more like a croak. Something wiggled with each flex of her neck, bobbing just to the side of her throat.

“Don’t try to speak, there’s a, uh, piece of wood—” One of the men gestured toward her neck.

Her hand trembled as it brushed against the sliver. She grabbed it and tugged, blood flung from the wound, splattering. But only for a moment. The warmth of blood seeped through her fingers. When she removed her hand, it didn’t hurt and no liquid remained.

“Demon.” The man claimed her attention. He stood, trembling, his hands clutching the cross hanging at his neck.

Me?

No, it couldn’t be her. It was him. Edward . She had to find him. If she found him, she could find Andy.

Red hair in the flame. Andy had red hair. Andy is…

The men around her held flat boxes in their hands. One had a light that shone on her. A flashlight of some sort? Another pressed it against his cheek and whispered at it.

“Where am I?”

“Hampden and Tenth.” One of the men crouched beside her, passing her a fast food napkin.

She ran it against her legs. Once the dried blood soaked through the tissue, she realized the wounds had healed, leaving only pink, puckered skin.

“We just tore down the building that was here. Owner wanted it flattened. But… ma’am. How did you get under the concrete?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The same man took her bloody napkin and handed her another. “You were in a wooden box under the concrete. Owner said there was something he wanted retrieved after we tore the place down, but none of us expected…” He trailed off, interrupted by the sound of sirens.

Ruby ignored the protests as she stood on shaking legs. A few of the men backed away, eyes wide with fear. Others reached out their arms as if to steady her, but left their hands hovering without actually touching.

She pushed away their avoidant gestures. If the police came, they may take her away for questioning. If they took her away, she couldn’t find the man. If she couldn’t find the man, she couldn’t find Andy.

Why would I need to find Andy? Andy is dead.

Fuck .

She couldn’t let herself think like that.

One step. Then another. Her legs, once cramped and sore, straightened and strengthened. She spun, searching for the exit. There wasn’t one. Empty space, walls crumbled, the night sky above and large buildings lined every street. Was she still in Denver? It was so loud, so busy, so full.

Picking a direction, she stumbled into the night.

Days passed, then weeks. She wore sunglasses to hide the veins on her eyelids—royal purple streaks that refused to fade.

She never felt hungry, so she didn’t force herself to eat.

She never felt tired, so she didn’t force herself to sleep.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure she was even living anymore.

Others seemed to see her, crossing streets to avoid her presence or shooting her pitying looks.

Maybe she was a ghost. Able to be seen but not to interact with the world.

She had no idea where to go, no way of knowing where to look. So she just walked. Endlessly. Unwaveringly. She would wander down one street, walking all the way through then turning to the next.

When she finished walking through Denver proper, she moved on to the suburbs.

Weeks bled into months. The winter came, yet she never grew cold.

When her shoes fell apart, she stole new ones.

She showered in gyms, sneaking in when the crowds kept the front desk busy.

The world had changed while she was asleep.

It was louder, with more people and buildings and cars, but lonelier.

Every person she passed had their eyes on a device in their hand or small white things in their ears.

She didn’t fit in this new world, so she walked. And she searched the crowds of faces for that man or her Andy.

Andy . She clung to the name like a lifeline, clutching it close to her heart, repeating it over and over so she couldn’t forget.

She never grew tired, but eventually she did grow…something. Itchy perhaps, like something was burrowing under her skin, begging to be scratched out. It crawled below the surface, twisting, blistering her from the inside. She needed something, but didn’t know what.

No, that was a lie. She just refused to believe it.

“You’ll burn others to live, or you’ll burn yourself from the inside out.” The man’s warning echoed in her mind every time her bones ached.

But she wouldn’t, couldn’t hurt anyone.

The craving grew.

It clawed at her guts, tunneled into her chest. Every part of her ached. Her strength never left her, not like she expected after not eating, but she grew restless in her walking, anxiety building with every step.

She lost her autonomy, continuing her journey purely on instinct, bound and controlled by the growing fire in her flesh.

It whispered to her, subtle, persistent temptations that never ceased.

She was a zombie, thoughtless, moving without any destination.

She tried to picture Andy. Or the man. And only got glimpses of red hair, her mind slush.

Months passed. She couldn’t tell how long. She stopped bathing and stopped replacing the shoes that fell apart. No one stopped her. No one cared. Seasons changed. The trees grew green once more. And she walked.

Until one day, she noticed ribbons of purple and green waves floating in the sky. She smelled the fire before she saw it. Her body moved on instinct, running toward the blaze at a speed she didn’t know she was capable of.

Forcing herself to stop a block away, she watched flames lick the roof of the small, suburban house.

She was both repelled and hypnotized, torn between fleeing and consuming.

Something urged her forward, but she didn’t know why.

The colors were beautiful. That shouldn’t matter to her.

Edward’s last words returned to her mind, warning her, encouraging her to eat.

I need it.

No.

There must be someone within, trapped. What does it matter? They’re already dead.

NO.

Why should I suffer?

I WILL NOT BECOME A MONSTER .

A scream startled her from her deliberation. A young girl, trapped inside. Sirens wailed in the far distance. They wouldn’t make it in time. Ruby sprinted toward the house.

The girl shouted from an upper bedroom. Vaulting the stairs in two strides, Ruby grabbed a chunk of the collapsed ceiling.

Her hands burned. She dropped the piece and sucked in a pained breath.

The rush was instant, the itch under her skin retreating into the corners of her being.

Power coursed through her body, warmth but not painful, soothing yet invigorating.

She made quick work of the sunken roof, tossing it to the side and making her way to the child inside. She lifted her easily, ignoring her screams of protest, her pleas to find her mother too.

Her mother was dead. She had just unintentionally consumed her. Dropping the kid into the grass, she fell on her knees and dry-heaved. When the fire trucks arrived, she sprinted away, leaving the screaming child behind.

She spent the next few months wandering around, aimless yet riddled with guilt, searching for something to dull the pain.

She found it. Marijuana or herbal cigarettes to feed.

Opium to make her forget. She had failed Andy, never once catching a glimpse of the man.

Her old home, which she eventually found, had been torn down, turned into a series of apartments.

With nothing left, no clues, no home, no will to exist, she lost herself in the drugs.

In her mind, Andy’s face screamed in the flames, cursed her, mocked her.

Unable to face it any longer, she retreated to an abandoned church, deciding she was too dangerous, not human enough, to be around others.

She found an iron stove in the basement and buried herself within.

If she couldn’t feed, she couldn’t become the monster Edward wanted her to be.

She would protect the world from herself.

That’s where the TCA eventually found her, curled in the stove, surrounded by ashes, not weakened in physical strength but incomprehensible. She screamed as they pried her from her iron cage, begging them to let her remain.

They took her anyway.