Chapter 3: Night of the Woe
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~~~ [START]
DOO!
The ground shook, causing Ash to open his eyes and bolt awake from sleep.
His eyes were blurry, so he squinted them, looking around to check what was happening.
But the next second, items started falling from the tables and chairs, while the ground cracked from the sound of another explosion.
He almost got up. But the ceiling came falling, slamming against his body and dropping his top bunk downward, the upper bunk completely slamming against the one on the bottom.
And before he could think, before his mind and body could process what was happening, the roof started shaking as its metal poles collided with each other.
DOO!
Another explosion shook the ground itself, causing the floor to split into veins of cracked concrete. And the roof, the one that was shaking, let loose its steel poles as one of them fell and launched straight onto Ash's chest.
"AHHHHH!" he screamed as it hit him. His hands instinctively moved to hold the pole's spherical shape, trying to pull it out.
But all efforts seemed vain.
It was simply too large for his hands to hold properly. And the blood that was coming out of his impaled chest was preventing his grip.
He breathed out heavily, completely bewildered by what was going on.
The dust from the fallen walls blinded him, the fragments of dirt causing even his faintest breaths to be overtaken by endless coughing.
Until he remembered, perhaps it hit him too late.
'Patrick.'
He turned his eyes to the surroundings, completely forgetting his environment.
His eyes scanned around, searching for the boy.
Until.
Right below him. Right in the middle of the two bunk beds that were earlier squashed together.
It was an arm. One that had continuous blood flowing below it.
And exactly where Ash sat, right in the middle of his legs, his mattress had taken a shape that resembled a half-smashed face. He could see the blood coming from below, rising upward as though being absorbed by a sponge.
Ash just stared, his face alternating between surprise and hopeless disbelief.
He did nothing, said nothing, and gave up completely.
All strength gone, all hopes of understanding the situation completely fading with the dust.
BOOM!
The door blasted open, slamming into the wall behind it and breaking out of its rail.
From the outside, barging in like criminals, 14 men in pure black armor entered.
All guns and rifles were pointing at Ash, whose entire chest had been completely opened by a large metal pole.
Ash didn't look away from the body of Patrick. He wasn't even startled when they first barged in.
He remained oblivious. As though the metal pole inserted within him granted no pain.
Silence overtook them.
The gun was still pointed at the child.
Child, eyes still watering with tears.
Beautiful, if some were to put it. Overwhelmingly so.
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{Minutes later}
In a completely white-colored room that Ash had grown too accustomed to.
He sat in the corner, completely isolated from the white.
The floor he sat on was completely covered with blood.
His hands turned red, his white shirt now open, revealing a red hole that exposed his chest.
No blood. No sight of injury. Just plain healed flesh.
"You must be Ash," said a random woman who entered through the broken-down glass door. She wore glasses and a doctor's coat, but instead of the normal color, they were all pure black.
Ash just stared at her as she made her way to the chair that was placed in the middle. She sat cross-legged, and her posture held some kind of distant confidence.
"You are Ash… right?" She asked again, this time her eyes moving to the folder she held.
He still didn't respond.
"You are 16 years of age," she read through it, fixing her glasses as though to perceive the folder better. "Have a history of being fascinated with reading language books. Completed a test of varsity-level nuclear science, even if unregistered. Started solving complex grade 12 questions when you turned 6. Moved and changed courses to rocket science at age 12 because you thought it was easy." She shifted her eyes from the file, then looked straight at him. "Everything about you leads to the fact that you have an extreme passion for learning."
"..."
She sighed, noting how unresponsive he was. Seeing that even though she had been showering him with compliments, his lips, body, and eyes remained completely oblivious.
"Tell her I want to talk," the boy finally whispered, sending shivers down her spine.
His eyes looked right at her ear, exactly toward her earbud—one of the smallest earbuds known to man.
She cleared her throat, visibly waiting for an answer from the other side.
It took a few seconds until finally she uncrossed her legs, stood up, and left.
Leaving Ash to look at her retreating figure.
…
An hour passed, and Ash was still seated in the same spot she had left him.
His eyes, this time, were nearly closing for sleep, the shock had woken him up simply too early.
THUD!
The step of heels awoke him.
An old woman, who looked like a witch, walked in.
Her skin was wrinkled, and her flesh hung on her face like meat falling from bone.
Her clothes were completely black, enhanced by the sound of her black high heels that made a thud with each step she took.
She walked to the chair, hands neatly hung behind her back.
Sat down, stared at the young, bloody lad that sat before her, then giggled.
"So, Immortals have enhanced hearing as well." She raised a hand to her chin, stroking the little strands of white hair that it yielded. "Lucien and Lilith certainly didn't tell me that."
~~~ [END]
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Join my PT for extra Chapters ~ p*tr-eon name is DUSK_IS_MEE
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