I draw in a deep breath, holding it as the night of the accident races through my mind. He was there. Dr. Z was there. His younger face becomes clear as he hovers over me, calling to me to keep my eyes open, telling me I’m going to be alright. Then came the pain, my scar burning as the memory of him saying I’m sorry over and over again as he applied pressure to the hole inmy leg, slowing the bleeding. Then he was gone; the paramedics arrived and took over. I never knew who he was or where he came from, and he never came forward. Until now, his face was always a blur, a silhouette in the dark that arrived on the scene and forced Mastyx back into the flames.
That’s why he makes me feel safe. That’s why I’m not afraid when he holds me. My mind has associated the doctor’s presence with Mastyx’s retreat into the fire the night of the accident.
His fingers glide across my cheek as he stands and says, “Get some rest.”
I sit there, my mouth hanging open, tears spilling over my lids as the door closes behind him, leaving me alone.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nowhere Safe
I wake up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. Moisture seeps into the sheets beneath me, the memory of falling into hell still fresh in my subconscious, trapping me in what seems like an infinite nightmare. I blink away tears and stare out the window at the dark and ominous clouds.
It took forever for me to fall asleep, my mind stuck on the consequences of my actions, the doctor’s actions. It’s not my fault. I wanted to stay home, to get rid of the doctor, and bide my time until the next full moon before facing Mastyx.
If I could have just renegotiated the terms of our contract and relaxed the rules a bit, it would have benefited both of us. But now, thanks to the doctor’s insistent actions and my impure thoughts, Mastyx will find any excuse to drag me violently back into the abyss. And the fact that Dr. Z was there, and until he told me so, I didn’t remember, makes everything that much worse. Was it Mastyx who made me forget him?
Rain races down the window with heavy drops. Sensing a presence in my room, I turn my head toward the entrance and clutch my chest. An elderly man stands just inside my doorway, completely naked, his face shrouded in darkness. My eyes pinch closed, not wanting to stare at his sagging and shriveling balls unintentionally. I reach for my call button only to discover it’sfallen off the bed. As the man shuffles closer to me, I pull the call button cord, slowly bringing it up from the floor. Liver spots plaster the man’s entire body, and his face, now visible, is ashen with dry, flaky lips.
“Umm, I think you’re in the wrong room, sir,” I say with a soft smile.
A clunk noise comes from the side of the bed, the call button getting stuck between the mattress and frame. The man shuffles a little closer, his bare feet making a scraping noise along the way. I pull the call button harder, trying to dislodge it.
He inches closer, close enough for me to see his eyes and the flames rising inside them. I open my mouth to scream when the old man’s long, bony fingers wrap around my throat and squeeze.
His mouth opens wide, and Mastyx utters one word that echoes from somewhere deep inside him. “Mine.”
I kick my legs and dig my nails into the old man’s forearm with one hand and pound his head with my cast with the other, but he tightens his grip.
“Mine!” Mastyx shrieks, a heat haze flowing from the old man’s mouth as it stretches wide open.
Spots float before my eyes, and I release my grip on the old man’s arm, frantically searching for the call button cord. It touches my fingers, and I grab it, yanking hard, unwedging it from its trapped space. I slam my thumb into the button multiple times as the room grows darker and darker, Mastyx’s eyes shining bright with amusement through the old man’s hollow orbs.
“Jesus!” a nurse yells, entering the room and grabbing the man from behind, but he won’t let go. “Help!” she shouts, her eyes and face growing frantic. “Mr. Baldwin, let her go!”
The pounding in my head grows harder by the second, my body fighting hard for oxygen. Urine floods out of me, the fear of dying becoming a certainty.
Dr. Z charges into the room and grabs the old man’s wrists. Mr. Baldwin’s eyes lose their flames, and his mouth chatters closed against the doctor’s touch before suddenly releasing my throat.
I gulp the air, heaving in large amounts, trying to replenish my body as Mr. Baldwin drops to the floor in a heap.
“Miss Salavatori, are you alright?” the nurse asks.
Dr. Z kneels to the floor, placing his fingers on the side of Mr. Baldwin’s neck. I lean over the edge of the bed, ignoring the nurse and staring down at Dr. Z and Mr. Baldwin.Hedoesn’t have to tell me, doesn’t have to say a word; I already know. He’s dead. Mr. Baldwin is dead. He was dead before he came into my room. Mastyx stole his soul and wore his body like a scuba suit into my room to kill me. I’m not safe here. I’m not safe anywhere.
The doctor’s eyes lock on mine, and he swallows hard before saying, “He’s dead.”
My legs kick the blankets off rapidly, and I rotate and leap out of the opposite side of the bed. “I have to go.”
I wrap my hair around my ears on both sides as the nurse places her arms on both shoulders. “You can’t leave now. We have to check you out.” She glances at my neck and touches the marks that I’m sure are already forming.
My good hand grips her one arm tight before tossing it away from me. I walk swiftly to the door, but Dr. Z. stands in front of me, holding up his hand. Before he can say anything, I notice he’s wearing a polo shirt and khakis. I didn’t see his casual attire before; he must have been on his way out. On his arm, a tattoo runs from his elbow down to his wrist.
Redemption through forgiveness.
He reaches for me, his arms wide open. “Please. You have to stay.” He points down to Mr. Baldwin and says, “He’s always been a little off. He didn’t try to hurt you on purpose. His mind was gone, has been for a while now.”
If he only knew that Mastyx was controlling Mr. Baldwin like a puppet, he wouldn’t be saying such things. I back away from him, afraid of the consequences. “Move,” I say, my eyes growing dark.
