There was no doubt that was indeed a banshee.
Standing there with silver unkempt long hair, tall, her mouth opened as she wailed.
Terrible mournful cries from her mouth that made goosebumps filled my skin.
Her hollow eyes locked onto mine, and a twisted hand lifted, pointing a finger directly at .
Her wailing beca higher. I had to bring my hands to my ears.
The voices swelled, overlapping, becoming a cacophony that filled the air with an ominous chant.
"Death...
death...
death..."
"Death always finds you."
"Death Shall find you."
"You do not belong in the land of the living."
The banshee opened her mouth, and a scream unlike anything I’d ever heard ripped through the fog, piercing and endless. It cut through like a knife, freezing to the core. I stumbled back, gasping, but the fog closed in tighter, trapping in place.
"Death!" The voices grew louder, drowning out my thoughts, pressing against like a weight I couldn’t shake.
"Death... death... death!"
My pulse thundered as I turned, pushing through the fog, running blindly.
The voices followed, hissing, chanting, surrounding , closing in on all sides.
I stumbled, desperate, my breath coming in gasps. I couldn’t see where I was going, only that I had to get away. The voices grew louder, echoing in my ears, I felt it.
Blood flowing from my ears. Dripping on my shoulder.
I could feel them closing in, and as I tried to push forward, I slamd into sothing solid.
I looked up, and my blood turned cold.
A towering creature lood above , its form twisted and monstrous, eyes gleaming with a sickly, predatory light. Its gnarled hand reached out, claws gleaming, sharp as knives.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound ca. The creature leaned closer, its breath hot and fetid, filling my senses until I was drowning in it.
Finally, a strangled scream tore from my throat.
"Ahhhhhh!"
And suddenly, I was awake, gasping, drenched in cold sweat, my heart racing so fast I could barely breathe. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nose as I struggled to focus on my surroundings. A steady beeping noise filled the room, syncing with my frantic heartbeat.
I blinked a few tis, disoriented, before I realized I was in a hospital.
The room was pristine, the kind of place reserved for the elite.
Soft, dim lighting cast a warm glow over polished wooden panels and sleek white furniture. A large window on the far side let in soft rays of morning light filtering through sheer curtains, illuminating the vase of fresh lilies on a table nearby. The hum of the air conditioning mixed with the rhythmic sound of the beeping machine beside .
I shifted, and a sharp pain shot through my leg. Looking down, I saw my leg encased in a cast, covered in scribbles from doctors and nurses.
I let out a sigh, exhaustion tugging at .
A soft rustling noise caught my attention. I turned my head slightly and saw Vincent slumped in a chair, his head tilted back and mouth slightly open, snoring softly. I frowned.
What was he doing here?
Before I could make sense of it, the door creaked open, and Jason stepped inside. He looked different, his usual composed appearance slightly worn. His hand was wrapped in a cast, and dark bruises shadowed his jaw. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he wore a loose-fitting shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing cuts and scrapes along his forearm.
His eyes swept the room and landed on Vincent. He tsked, shaking his head slightly before a small smile broke across his face when he looked at .
"You’re awake," he said softly. He lifted the bag in his hand, a crinkle of paper breaking the silence. "I bought food."
I stared at him, my throat dry. "Food?"
"Hospital food is terrible even for VIPs," he replied, walking over to the bedside table and placing the bag down. His eyes scanned my face, worry flickering behind them before he masked it with a small smirk. "Thought you might appreciate an upgrade."
I glanced at his left hand, now in a cast, and then back at his face. "You’re hurt."
He looked down at his hand as if rembering the injury for the first ti. "This? It’s nothing," he said, waving it off with his other hand. "You should see the other guy."
I huffed a laugh, the sound weak and breathless. "The ceiling?"
Jason chuckled. "Yeah, it didn’t stand a chance."
The room fell quiet for a mont, the only sound the faint breathing of Vincent in the corner and the beeping of the machine. Jason’s gaze softened as he watched , and for the first ti, I didn’t feel the need to fill the silence.
It felt... okay.
"So," he said, his eyes flicking to my leg, "how’s it feel?"
I shifted slightly, grimacing. "Like I tried to outrun a building and lost."
His smile faltered for a split second, replaced by a look of sothing I couldn’t quite read. "You didn’t lose," he said quietly, a hint of sothing deeper in his voice. "You’re still here."
Before I could respond, Vincent stirred, mumbling sothing incoherent before blinking awake. He sat up with a jolt when he saw Jason.
"Boss," Vincent said, eyes darting between us, "I didn’t realize you were here already."
Jason rolled his eyes, the smirk returning. "Clearly. You were doing a great job holding down the fort, by the way."
Vincent flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just... resting my eyes."
"Sure," Jason said, but his gaze was already back on , more serious now. "Anyway, I figured you’d be hungry."
I nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the bag. "What did you bring?"
He pulled out a container, opening it to reveal a selection of fresh pastries. The scent of butter and sugar hit , and for the first ti in hours, I felt sothing close to normal.
"Pastries?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"They’re from that little bakery downtown," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
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