Garrett’s right eye flutters open as the EKG machine beeps a steady rhythm. A whooshing noise drowns out all the other sounds, and his good eye shifts to the white ceiling.
Through the coppery scent of old blood, he smells sterilizing cleansers in the air, hears the soft murmurs of people nearby. He looks around more, his eyeball swiveling to the navy-blue curtain on his right, then the EKG machine and bag of clear fluid.
I’m in a hospital.
He can’t remember the last time he’s been in a hospital, and as he sits for a moment, digesting his surroundings, he remembers why he’s there. That white man with the dark hair and wicked blue eyes. He took him, mutilated him, hurt him—nearly killed him.
Garrett’s body shakes violently on the bed, but he can’t bring himself to move the way he wants to. He’s too stiff.
“Hey, whoa!” a voice calls. “Take it easy.” A nurse appears, dressed in teal scrubs with a medical mask covering the lower half of her face.
“You’ve suffered a lot of head trauma. I’m surprised you’re even awake right now.” She gives him a pitiful onceover, and he attempts to speak, but his throat is thick and dry, so the word “Where” comes out in an awkward croak.
“Don’t worry,” the nurse says, scribbling something on the paper of her clipboard. “You’re being taken care of. I can’t believe you fell off a building. You poor thing.” She sucks her teeth. “Six broken bones, and you must’ve landed on something sharp, considering your wounds. That’s a miracle, you know.”
Fell off a building? He didn’t fall off a building. He was knocked out, then taken to his own apartment and tortured by some pale, British-sounding asshole he didn’t even know the name of. He was punched so many times he’d lost count. The man had taken a literal meat tenderizer and smashed one of his forearms and shins with it. And the stabbing. Fuck, all the stabbing and slicing. That was the worst of it, not because it hurt more, but because it seemed the man truly got a kick out of cutting him. Garrett grimaces and attempts to clench his fist, but his body doesn’t react.
“It’s a good thing someone found you and dropped you off.” She turns to face him. “You thirsty, hun? Probably are. I’ll get you some water.” She leaves the room, taking the clipboard with her.
As she goes, Garrett breathes unevenly and looks down. His left arm and right thigh are in a cast, and considering how stiff his neck is, he must have a neck brace on. There’s a slight pain in his abdomen, a sheer reminder of being stabbed, and another pain…near his groin. He shudders, remember how close that man was to slicing his dick off. He drops his head, sighing. He must be on heavy meds right now, he assumes, because he can hardly feel a thing.
He sits for a heated moment, letting all the events register. He still can’t believe that happened to him. Sure, he shouldn’t have been following Willow around. Truth be told, it was not in his nature to do such a thing. Lately, there’d been something luring him to Willow. Something he could not resist. His dreams were always about her, and when he woke up, the first thing he wanted was to see her.
It seemed all he could think about was Willow, despite the fact she was pulling away. He knew she no longer wanted him, but there was a voice in his head, constantly telling him to not let her go. Garrett liked to think of it as his own little shoulder demon. The voice would only come out to instruct him on Willow. It told him to hurt her, to scare her. It even told him to watch her. The voice led him to search her apartment for more information on her and her brother, find out her weakness. Many people would consider it an obsession, but he was not obsessed. He simply needed her. Anytime he rejected that little demon, it tormented him with nightmares that seemed endless. It was his duty to watch her, look after her. Be with her.
No, he shouldn’t have gotten angry with her in the parking lot of her apartment complex, or angrier when she told him to leave. And he probably shouldn’t have followed her from Target to the ATM, then rammed her car with that man inside it, but he couldn’t help himself. It felt right to kill him for being with her. He didn’t think the man would torture him. Here she was, all chummy and lovey with this other guy—someone she’s been seeing for some time now, clearly—and she was trying to leave him for a white boy in a trench coat? He knew Willow wasn’t shit, but this took the cake.
He stews in his anger as the nurse returns with water and helps him sip it, oblivious to his rage. She places the TV remote in his left hand, where he’s only able to use two of his fingers, and when she leaves, he manages to click it on to a boring news channel. His mind constantly goes back to Willow and that man who was with her. He’s hurt now, but he’ll find her again, and he’ll kill that man she’s hanging out with.
The hours tick by, and hospital grows quieter. Less people. Less movement. Less things to do, and Garrett, though tired, refuses to sleep. What if that man comes back while he’s down? While he’s weak? What if he kills him this time? No, he won’t… will he? He needs to call the cops…but how is he going to explain what he did? Crashing into her car. Attempted murder, really. He’ll go to jail. Plus, the man did say if he snitched, he’d come back to really finish him off, and Garrett doesn’t doubt it. No, he has to lie low until he recovers. Then he can exact his revenge.
All of it messes with Garrett’s head, so much so that he develops a headache. Then the TV flickers off, the lights go out, and his room drowns in darkness.
Garrett cranes his neck just enough to look out the open hospital door. The lights in the hallway are all off, minus one flickering light dead in the center.
His door slams closed, and he sucks in a sharp breath, but he can’t move. His heart races, and his fingers curl around the remote. Fuck, that white boy is probably back. He’s going to kill me this time.
He waits, and waits, but no one comes. Then, in the darkness, he spots a black shadow seeping out of one of the eggshell walls. He watches it take shape, turning into a tall figure—a figure that has no face, just red eyes, the shape of half-moons.
“Hello, Garrett,” the creature croaks, and Garrett stares at it, a familiar chill riding through his body. He’s seen this creature before, in his nightmares. It’s the same creature who chases him and drains him of life if he doesn’t do what he’s told with Willow. It’s that demon who whispers over his shoulder, now coming out to play.
The creature moves closer, glaring down at him with its blood red eyes. Reaching down, the creature presses its taloned hand to Garrett’s chest. The talon is cold, penetrating through the fabric of his shirt. It removes its claw, and the casts Garrett wears split open, setting his leg and arm free.
“Find her,” the creature growls as Garrett sits upright on the hospital bed. He flexes his fingers. No pain, no more wounds. He’s perfectly healed. His eye no longer feels swollen. A dark energy hums through him. He feels strong, powerful. A smirk claims his lips.
“Who are you?” Garrett asks.
The creature says nothing.
Standing, Garrett cuts his eyes at the creature who’s been haunting him for years. “What do you want?”
“Kill her,” the creature growls. He knows exactly who he’s talking about, and with those words, Garrett leaves the room, trudging out of the hospital to find Willow as a twisted vessel of Decius.
