Possess Me by Michelle Heard

 

Chapter 16

 

Alek

 

Coming to, I’m confused as fuck.

My body feels like it’s been torn apart, and I struggle to pry my eyes open.

For a blissful moment, I don’t remember what happened as I glance around the sterile room, seeing Misha sitting on an armchair.

My best friend glances at me, and instantly a smile spreads over his face. He rushes to the doorway, and leaning out into the hallway, he shouts, “Alek’s awake!”

My parents and Tiana come barreling into the hospital room.

Mama looks like she’s aged ten years, a shock of white streaks in her dark brown hair. Her face has new lines, and her eyes are dull with heartache.

Tiana starts to cry and comes to grab my hand.

Then my eyes land on my father’s stern face.

Vincent.

Everleigh.

The moment of bliss splinters, and every shard flays my soul to shreds.

My brother’s head falls forward, and blood trickles from the gunshot wound to his temple.

NONONONONO!

My body fails me, and as I drop to my knees, three shots echo into the night.

My entire world implodes as I watch the bullets hit Everleigh.

The pain in my body fades until all that’s left is the harrowing reality that Vincent and Everleigh are dead.

Uncontrollable rage explodes through me, and the wounds I’ve suffered do nothing to stop me as I rip the IV from my arm and struggle out of bed.

I hear voices shrieking and shouting.

My eyes remain locked on my father as I stumble toward him.

There’s no reasoning. No right and wrong.

No will to live.

There’s only hatred and rage.

I lift my arms, and wrapping my hands around his throat, I try to squeeze the life from him. Too weak, I slump down to my knees.

My breaths come too fast. My heart’s thundering.

Misha grabs hold of me as my father takes a step backward. He crouches in front of me, and his eyes are emotionless as he orders, “Get your shit together, boy.”

“You fucking killed her,” I groan. “Because of you, Vincent and Everleigh are dead.”

Saying the words has the memory of Everleigh slumping down in the field flashing through my mind.

“What took you so long?” I shout. “Why the fuck did you shoot her?”

I start to struggle against Misha’s hold, a broken cry tearing from my chest. I become like a rabid dog.

“The girl was a liability,” my father mutters.

I can’t think straight. I can’t calm down.

I can’t do anything but fight against Misha. I manage to get loose, and darting forward, I tackle my father off his feet.

I manage to get a punch in, slamming my fist into his cheek before Misha once again grabs hold of me.

As I’m dragged away, madness spills over my lips, “You fucking killed her. She was my soul! She was my everything. You fucking killed her. You fucking killed her! YOU FUCKING KILLED HER.”

Misha wraps his arms around me, and I can’t hear a word he says.

Imprisoned inside my head, I’m alone in the darkness.

This time I don’t have Everleigh to keep me from losing my mind.

He killed her.

The other half of my soul.

He might as well have killed me.

I feel Mama’s hands on my shoulders. I see her tears.

A woman in white gives me an injection, and feeling dizzy, I keep my eyes locked with my father’s.

“I’m…going to…kill you,” I slur before my body loses the fight, and I slump against Misha.

 

 

When I wake up again, the memories are waiting for me.

There’s no blissful moment where it takes me a while before I remember what happened.

The blow from my debilitating reality is instant. It sows destruction through my mind, wiping out the man I used to be.

My breaths become desperate puffs, and unbearable agony rips through my chest.

Misha comes closer, and he leans over me. Worry is etched deep into his face.

“Alek, calm down.”

It’s only then I hear the heart monitor beeping like crazy.

I lock eyes with my best friend, but his face blurs with all the memories of Everleigh and me locked in a dark room.

Again, the image of her dying shudders through me.

In a single day, I lost Vincent and Everleigh.

I would’ve survived losing my brother, but not Everleigh as well.

I’m bombarded with scenes of torture. The starvation. The endless hours we spent in the darkness and cold.

It feels like that’s all there ever was – just Everleigh and me and that dark room. There’s no before and no after.

Misha’s hands frame my face, and he pleads, “Alek, please, calm down.”

My breathing is so fast, I don’t get enough air, and hyperventilating, I return to the darkness, but this time Everleigh isn’t there with me.

 

 

The next time I wake up, I’m sluggish and drained of all my strength.

My mind is woozy, as if I’ve had too much to drink.

It’s hard to focus on anything, and when I let out a groan, I hear movement.

Mama comes into view, and again, I’m shocked by how old she looks.

“Mama,” I manage to mumble.

Slowly she sits down in a chair, and picking up my hand, she grips it between both of hers.

“Zaika.” She calls me the equivalent of baby or darling in Russian. Mama rambles a prayer, thanking God I’m awake, then tears start to stream down her face.

“Mama,” I manage again. “What happened?”

She forces a smile to her face while shaking her head. “You’re here. It is all that matters.” Her voice breaks, and devastating heartbreak tightens her features, then she whispers, “I still have you.”

The memories of the past months are delayed, but slowly they start to trickle through my mind.

Because of whatever medication they’ve given me, I’m forced to feel crushing blow after blow.

I’m forced to feel.

I remember the beating, the whipping, the knife through my hand.

I remember the starvation and hunger pains.

I remember the muscle cramps, my body withering away from lack of movement.

I remember watching Everleigh fade away before my eyes.

The darkness.

The endless fucking darkness.

I close my eyes against the bright light in the room.

And I keep remembering.

What Vincent looked like on that final day. The way he accepted his fate and his eyes begged me to end it.

Everleigh’s gone.

Vincent died for nothing, and I lost Everleigh anyway.

I only realize I’m crying when Mama pulls me into a sitting position and presses my head to her chest.

“Shhh…zaika…shhh. Your Mama’s here.”

When I was little, I always found comfort in her arms, but there’s none to be found today.

Today there’s only agony and guilt.

I have to bear the cross of being the only survivor.

How do I live with the guilt of failing my brother?

How do I survive while half my soul is rotting in a field?

Where Vincent and Everleigh’s torture has ended, mine is just beginning.