I watched as Archer and Jae walked out and away into the streets. Miyoko had left before I was awake to figure out where, exactly, Devil's Haven was. Because once three days were up, Mr Fathington wanted us gone. Whether Archer was working for him or not.
I slunk away from the window and ignored all the noises that the rumbling vehicles made as they rolled past my window. I couldn't exactly say that this plan they'd come up with wasn't a good one—it just didn't seem sturdy enough to properly work.
I was sure Mr Fathington was smarter than how they made him out to be. He surely wouldn't fool by this plan made in three short hours of the early morning.
I fell backwards and trusted the bed to catch me. It did, but I hit my head on the wall on the other side of it. I groaned and curled up into a half-made ball. My feet curled around each other as I dealt with the pain slowly. I sat up, wanting to move, to do something. I got up and opened the door—knowing I wasn't supposed to—and went into the kitchen, making myself a cup of black tea. Something I hadn't had in quite some time. Usually, my tea was made of herbs and occasional spices. This was strong in a different way.
I walked over to the window in this room, the view angled slightly more to the left. Further in the direction of where Arthur had disappeared in. Then—almost as if trying to ruin my peaceful state of mind—a loud explosion goes off, a building erupting into flames. I jumped and the cup shattered before my eyes. The tea spilled along the floorboards.
As this action takes place, the force wind of the explosion knocks into me. I hear the screams of people as some fell and never got back up again. Too close to the licking flames and its winding smoke; and the deafening burst of sudden energy. Debris and dust flew everywhere as a few more buildings collapsed. I groaned and noticed a strong sensation in my lower arm. I blinked half-heartedly down at it and saw a river of red falling down over the smashed table and partially broken window. I knew that if I was to survive this, I would need to make that one deal with the Mist. Again.
I closed my eyes and tried to make that one promise, that one that I kept repeating. Saying over and over what I would do. IwilldoitIwilldoit…
Not good enough, you haven't done what you said….you won't get it otherwisssse….
I opened my eyes and looked around, everything was fogged up and blurred, as if I was looking at the world through a thick mist. And it had no intention of going away.
"I will fulfil that promise, what can I do to change your mind? To convince you?"
What does that mean to me? You've promised so many times but never have completed your side of the deal…Show me what you can do with this power and I will consider whether or not just to overtake your body and possess iiiiiiiiiiit.
As I sat there, trapped inside my own head. I wondered if the Mist ever considered leaving my body. That I was of no use to it and wanted to leave me in abandon. Sometimes I had dreams full of that emotion, carelessness. Not wanting me as they did.
It hurt, in some way or another. Whether they were reincarnations in my head or in reality. It hurt. It stung and burnt. And no matter how many times I brushed it aside it came back worse and harder to ignore. And I've lost track of how many of those moments I've had in my lifetime.
"So what do I have to do?" I hoped that, if I forced myself over the edge of oblivion, I might actually impress the overwhelming force of intelligence inside me.
Heal a decapitated being. Was all the malicious voice said before its presence seemed to disappear and I was alone. And I wished, in that moment of deafening silence that someone was there to comfort me. To tell me I could…
"Archer…"
I scowled and fell to my knees, I didn't understand why I was shaking so violently until I saw the splatters of red. I looked over and the sprays led to a pool of darker red. My vision blurred as I recognised the face of the dead person lying not too far from their body.
"ARCHER!" My voice broke as I fell to my side. There was no way he was dead. He couldn't be. I saw him only a few hours ago. "Nononononono—you're not dead…YOU CAN'T BE!" I spent the next fifteen minutes shouting profusions about things that I couldn't even remember once finished. The pointlessness I felt was nothing compared to how empty I felt as I stood up and felt something inside me twist for the last time and snap. I knew that I couldn't go back. Whether I died, I was bringing Archer back.
I positioned his head so that it was touching his body. Closing the centimetres away from where his neck should be connected to his head. I let out a low gasp and closed my eyes, I placed my hands over the wound and told myself over and over that the Mist could kill me and torture me all it wanted, as long as I saved Archer.
I felt the Mist surge out of me, but it didn't enter the injured body like it usually did. I opened my eyes in confusion. I saw a golden glow meet the floating Mist. They greeted the other in a way too humane for such objects. I wanted to know what they were doing and saying as they interacted in a way that was similar to two long-lost lovers greeting each other uncertainly. I wanted to understand what they were going to do. How would they save this poor boy in front of me? How would they bring him back? What would happen to me after all the chaos? Would I die? Without destroying the people who killed my family and destroyed my home?
I closed my eyes once again as the Mist swept within the golden, luminescent glow. I gasped out as pain raked down my spine. Was I transferring my own health to him? To save him? I gritted my teeth and continued to repeat the same word, over and over in my head.
Healhealhealheal.
I felt drained, but not as if I'd just run a heavily laid-out track. But as if I'd had one too many blood tests, a few too many tubes of red stacked upon my shelf. I hissed through my teeth to remind my lungs to expand and deflate. To breath.