Blood of the Pure (Gaea) (25 page)

The sound of a small bell echoed through the bathroom, startling me, but I immediately identified it as belonging to Lea. I tried to sit up to look at the floor, hoping to see him, glad that he’d returned, but my body didn’t obey me, remaining stiff and motionless.

My heart jumped in panic, my eyes darting in every direction, terrified by what little I could see. I tried as hard as I could to move my arms, but it was useless. I wished I could call for help, but by then my thoughts had begun to fragment incoherently, and the small bell rang once again, this time much closer to me. My gagging breath echoed all around me and I desperately tried to see what was happening, which was very little since I couldn’t move my head. Suddenly a big, hard hand landed on my head and pushed me down, and all I could do was take a sharp breath before going underwater.

Once more surrounded by silence, all I could hear was the crazed beating of my heart, drumming in my ears. I commanded my hands to obey me and push me back to the surface, but it was no use. Unable to close my eyes, I saw a distorted face peering at me from the surface, his hand keeping my head glued to the bottom of the tub. It didn’t take long for my chest to start burning painfully, big bubbles of air escaping my lips. Hot water filled my mouth and nose, invading my respiratory track, and pain tore at me from inside. Terrified, I was sure I was about to die, my body still refusing to obey even though my life depended on it. And all I could think about was how much I regretted the pain my death was sure to bring to my mom, when she heard the terrible news that I’d drowned in my own bathroom.

My vision darkened, the pain now excruciating, and then something ice-cold reached inside the hot water and grabbed my arm, pulling me up. Before I could even realize that I could move once again, my hands regained their freedom and desperately fought to keep me at the surface. The air filled my lungs, hurting me and making me cough. I threw up water, gagging and fighting to breathe at the same time, as I tried to escape as fast as I could from that assassin liquid. My panicky hands reached out and grabbed the first thing they touched, pulling it in an absurd attempt to help me get up. The curtain tore and the rod fell, making me slip backwards, my feet sliding against the bottom of the tub and, once more, I was pulled back to the surface. I opened my eyes, fighting for each breath, my drenched hair covering my mouth and nose, suffocating me, and my terror reached its peak when I saw him, right there, unexpectedly too close to me. His hand was still around my arm, his strength hurting me and, without a thought, I hit him as hard as I could.

The striking sound of my hand against his face broke the wave of panic that had come over me, and I stared at him, unable to move. Gabriel released my arm, slowly, and took a hand to his cheek, looking shocked. Once more I forgot to breath and my body shook uncontrollably. He stared at me, still in disbelief, and I slid backwards, gluing my back against the wall and pulling the fallen curtain over me, as if that thin plastic sheet could somehow protect me. His dark gaze became severe, then furious, and I knew that, although I’d been saved from drowning, nothing could save me from his anger. I had nowhere to run! This was the end. I closed my eyes hard, cringing from the pain that would surely follow, but nothing happened.

The screeching sound coming from downstairs startled me and I looked for him, but he was gone. I pulled my trembling knees up holding them against my chest. Screams echoed through the entire house, Human screams, and I pressed my hands against my ears. I didn’t want to hear! I didn’t want to know! I couldn’t think of anything except how much I wished I could disappear to somewhere where he could never reach me.

Finally, everything was silent again, but still I couldn’t move. The sound of the water droplets falling from my wet hair over the water surface was the only sound I could hear, and I sat there for what seemed like an eternity.

A sneeze itched at my nose and its sound cut off the silence that surrounded me. The water had cooled down and I was starting to feel cold.

I raised my head in fear and looked around. He hadn’t returned. I carefully got up, bracing myself against the wall as my legs shook, and pulled a towel, wrapping it around my cold body, as I tried to put my thoughts in order. I took a deep breath, my lungs still hurting, and told myself I had to get out of that water. Even so, I hesitated as I faced the door, fearing what awaited me on the other side, and finally ended up opening it. Outside everything was silent, and so I ran to my room, closing the door behind me. I took a hand to my chest, trying to quiet my terrified heart, and took a deep breath, my throat burning.
Calm down ... everything’s fine ... everything’s fine ... let’s just get dressed
, I repeated to myself, firmly commanding my every single move as if I were someone else taking care of me. And it actually worked, until I looked for my hairbrush and didn’t find it.
The bathroom!
My heart jumped to another crazed run, my lungs resenting it as my breath became ragged. I didn’t want to have to go back to the bathroom! Which was ridiculous, to say the least.
Just calm down!
I scolded myself.
It’s over, he’s gone. Besides, we won’t be able to avoid going to the bathroom forever, right? There’s nothing to fear. We’re just going to fetch my brush.
I kept my fear under control and went to the door.

I opened it slowly, peering down the corridor. No one. Silence. I practically ran to the bathroom, but then stopped. My gaze went to the stairs. What had happened downstairs? I swallowed hard and went back to counting inspirations. I couldn’t avoid going downstairs as much as I couldn’t avoid the bathroom.

I held on to the handrail and went down the stairs, my legs shaking at every step. I stopped as I reached the base, my sweaty hands refusing to release the handrail, locking me in place.
Everything’s fine. This is my home! There’s nothing to fear
, I repeated and managed to release the titanic force with which my fingers gripped the polished wood.

I recalled hearing screams and my mind alerted me that I was probably about to find someone, or something dead in my living room. I readied myself for what awaited me and peered inside.

The first thing I did was make sure he really wasn’t there and, against all my bleakest expectations, the room looked empty.

Suddenly, my gaze fell upon a small bundle, much smaller than a Human Being, and my heart jumped as I understood what I was seeing. I rushed towards him, completely forgetting my fears, and stopped a step away from him, covering my mouth with my hands to stifle a scream of horror. Lying in a growing pool of blood was the little kitten.

My eyes stung and I ordered myself to react.
What to do?
I urgently tried to decide, but my eyes were caught by the small, golden bell pending from his collar and a cold fear landed on my stomach, making me take a step back. That had been the sound I’d heard moments before I had been unable to move, right before someone had tried to drown me! Before, I wouldn’t have even considered the crazy idea that now crossed my mind. But after all that I’d seen in the last few days ...

I took a deep breath and squeezed my nervous hands together. I swallowed before trying to speak, but still my voice betrayed me.

“Was it ... you,” I asked and felt the painful effort my vocal cords had to do to emit that sound. My throat hurt due to all the coughing and gagging, and my voice sounded hoarse and tired.

For a moment I felt ridiculous, standing there, not lifting a single finger to help that poor animal. But then I saw him shudder, which made me immediately alert, and his silver eyes opened to look at me. He instantly tried to stand up, baring his small sharp teeth as he hissed threateningly, making me take another step back. But his thin paws trembled and buckled under him, and more blood gushed from the deep cut that tore in his back. Even then he kept on threatening me, although he probably knew there was nothing he could do against me, and my eyes fell on that pool of blood that kept getting larger by the minute.
What to do? If this goes on he’ll end up dying.
My legs moved instinctively as the word death echoed in my mind.

I ran as fast as I could towards the kitchen and, with trembling, urgent hands, grabbed a bowl, filling it with clean water. I opened two drawers until I found the right one and took a clean cloth. I couldn’t just stand there and let him die. In truth, I had more than a few problems when the matter implied dealing with death. I just couldn’t allow it to come into that house and claim a life.

I ran back to the living room and, refusing to think about anything else, knelt next to the kitten, trying to find the best way to touch him. The small cat hissed at me once more and, with a surprisingly fast move for someone about to die, scratched my hand with one of his front paws.

“Stop that!” I scolded him, angry, as I noticed that the blood had started to ooze even faster from his injury due to his thoughtless movements. “Let me help! I can’t let you die,” I yelled, the weight of the idea alone crushing me, and he stopped emitting those threatening sounds, just staring at me with eyes too bright.

I took his sudden quietness as a sign that he’d allow me to get closer and carefully dipped the cloth in the water to clean his injury. The tiny animal shuddered, closing his eyes, his paws twitching and contracting involuntarily.

The blood wouldn’t stop flowing and despair started to creep in. He was quickly getting weaker and the water I’d brought had changed color completely.

“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed in a pained whisper. “I can’t even understand the seriousness of your injury, much less how to fix it.” I squeezed the cloth stained with blood. “How can I help? Can I call a veterinarian? Please, I don’t want you to die. Help me help you!” I pleaded, softly caressing his dark, twitching head, and the sound of his bell echoed all around me, startling me, since it was the same sound I had heard in the bathroom.

Before my baffled gaze, I watched as his small, furry body started to glow and change. I immediately tried to step back, but ended up falling on my butt, as I saw that the small cat slowly took on Human form. And then all that was left was what looked like a child, lying on a pool of blood.

His gasping breath filled the room, between moans of pain that propelled me back to action. I dragged myself to his side again, and as delicately as I could, pulled the small hand that pressured his wound, watching him in horror. To my surprise his skin was warm, even feverish as with any Human Being, and his pained expression dug deep in my heart. He was just a small boy.

“Everything will be all right, everything will be all right,” I repeated, more for my benefit than his, refusing to think about what he was or the fact that he’d just tried to kill me. The cut that tore his soft skin was deep, stretching from the side of his rib cage to his belly, and it kept bleeding profusely with each forced inspiration. “Jesus! This, this needs stitches!” I was sure as my panic grew. How could I simply take him to a hospital? It was impossible! “OK, OK, think,” I ordered myself, trying to stop my hands from shaking. “I’ll be right back.” I jumped to my feet, stumbling as I rushed out of the room.

I ran upstairs into the bathroom and ransacked the medicine cabinet, throwing the unneeded stuff over my shoulder and filled the small laundry basket with bandages, a pack of gauze, tape, cotton and a bottle of Betadine solution. I ran downstairs once again, almost tripping on the stairs, and went back to his side. He was still there, lying in that pool of blood that had clearly grew in my absence.

“This is going to hurt,” I warned nervously as I dipped a piece of cotton ball in Betadine and started carefully cleaning his wound. His body twitched and trembled, his small hands closed tight, small droplets of sweat shining on his brow. But still he didn’t cry, his screams of pain forcibly muffled behind clenched lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Even after cleaning his wound, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Of course he needed stitching, I told myself once more and even considered doing it myself, but immediately gave up on the idea because I’d probably end up making things worse. In despair, I almost called Michael, needing to share the responsibility with someone else, but I stopped myself. It would only make the situation more complicated and I’d have a lot of explaining to do.

I placed the gauze pads over his wound, nervously watching as they rapidly changed color, and tied them in place with the white bandages around his thin torso, careful not to move him too much. When I finished he was breathing more softly, although from time to time his body still twitched, his childish face crossed by an expression of pain. I took a deep breath and sat there, watching over him, until he became completely still, as if he’d fallen asleep.

Lying like that on my living room floor, he looked like any six-year-old boy would. His hair was black, his skin soft like a child’s. He was naked except for the red ribbon around his neck with its small bell. He was small and thin and I was sure I could easily pick him up. I considered the idea, wanting to take him upstairs, but was afraid to move him. And so I stood up and grabbed one of Gabriel’s blankets, carefully folded over an empty suitcase, and a pillow from the couch. I went back to him and watched him for a moment. That was not a child, I sternly reminded myself. I couldn’t allow his innocent appearance to deceive me. That boy had attacked me just a few moments ago!

Even so, I covered his naked body and carefully raised his head to place it on the pillow. What else could I do? The extent of his injuries worried me and I was sure he’d only get worse.