If You Break (The Redeemed Book 1) Read online

  I was irrationally accusing her in my grief and despair. I didn’t know how I’d gotten back here, but it certainly wasn’t alone. This was wrong, unnatural. Something had to have done this to me.

  Ruth adjusted her glasses nervously, clear eyes searching and clouded with confusion. Her shock was evident, clearly she had not been expecting this turn of events.

  “It was not me that brought you back here. I don’t know where you’ve been, but you are in the hospital now. You are alive. The world has gifted you a second chance,” she explained.

  Her tone was almost reverential, her lips twisted in a hopeful smile. I wanted to wipe the smug look off of her face. This wasn’t a second chance. This was a perverse joke from the universe. One final kick in the teeth.

  “I was happy there,” I cried desperately, distraught tears burning my face as they spilled over.

  Years spent hoping, praying for reprieve and then you finally get it… and it’s torn away. That fucking hurt. My tears weren’t for the life I’d lost. They were for the death I’d revelled in, before it was stolen from me. The precious peace that had now slipped beyond my grasp.

  “Where? What do you remember?” she asked with wonderment.

  I didn’t grant her an answer. I was wrapped up in my grief, furious with the whole damn world. She didn’t deserve to know the truth. Deep down, I knew my anger was unfounded, but I had no control over it at that moment. It was all-consuming, blinding me from fully understanding the situation I was facing.

  After a few tense minutes of my muffled sobs, she sighed tiredly.

  “You don’t want to talk. That’s fine. My job here is to talk to you, to make you understand the situation.”

  Her hands reached out slowly, grasping the thin sheet that covered my body and slowly dragging it down. I tried to protest, but she hushed me before speaking in a gentle voice, like she was addressing a wounded animal preparing to flee. I did want to flee. Far, far away from this place. From this body. From this life.

  “The memories you have, they are real. What you are remembering, I’m sorry but it happened.”

  She gently unbuttoned the hospital gown before she pulled back the folds. Any lingering protest melted away on my tongue at the sight that greeted me.

  It was one thing to remember something awful happening to you, something life-altering in its proportion and intensity. Being assaulted by the image of that act, the indelible physical reminder, was an entirely different thing. I thought I’d accepted my death when my spirit was soothed and unharmed. But being back here, in this body, any acceptance I’d had was undermined by the horrifying sight of my injuries.

  My body with its pale, almost translucent skin, was littered with huge scores of scabbed flesh. The marks looped across my torso with great crimson swoops and my skin was puckered in places, thick treacle-like blood oozing from the cracks in the raw flesh. I stared down in pure horror and revulsion. I had recalled the knife pressed against my throat in warning, then slashing at me. I had remembered his disgusting touch and violating presence.

  Seeing the evidence confirmed every sickening memory coursing through my mind, giving them power and traction. Validation. It was a bleak, physical affirmation of what I’d been through.

  What had ended my life.

  I met Ruth’s eyes with desperation, my body tingling as anxiety flooded my system. She wore a bleak expression, bearing witness to my emotional turmoil and utterly powerless to fix it.

  “I’m… alive?” I whispered, despite already knowing the answer.

  “Yes. You are alive,” she replied.

  I gritted my teeth as the room began to spin. So many questions demanded to be answered in my mind, but I had lost my already fragile grip on sanity. I was no longer in control. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as my heart pounded with a deadly combination of irrational fear for what had already been done to me, and admission of the fact that I was utterly, utterly broken.

  Distantly, I heard Ruth desperately imploring me to breathe and calm down, but it was futile. I had descended into a pit of terror and began to struggle against the restraints holding me in place, desperate to run, escape, hide… anything to be somewhere else and avoid reality.

  I wanted to go back to my silent meadow, free from pain and heartbreak, under the endless warmth of the sun. The peaceful void my mind had been floating through before waking up, back in a mutilated, traitorous body that refused to release its grip on me.

  The intense emotion sparked something peculiar inside my chest, like a match flaring to life when scratched against a matchbook. Burning warmth spread through my extremities, not dissimilar to the sensation I’d experienced before when I first woke up. The surge of tingling energy felt familiar in ways I couldn’t begin to grasp. Almost like I’d felt it somewhere before. It poured through me, pounding side by side with my uncontrollable panic and establishing itself as part of me somehow.

  I continued to tug viciously on my restraints. Searing heat spread across my wrists and the scent of smoke forced my gaze down, only to see the restraints that had previously secured my wrists were crumbling away, burnt to ashes. The flow of power had peaked and removed the obstacle blocking my escape, offering me a chance.

  Without stopping to consider the impossibility of what had just occurred, I struggled to rise from the bed, my fight or flight response well and truly kicked in. I had just put my feet to the floor when the door to the room slammed open. A group of men dressed in matching black uniforms rushed into the small space, responding to Ruth’s triggering of a silent alarm.

  A mountainous figure commanded the intimidating group, surging toward me and wrestling me back down to the bed with incredible strength. He pinned my arms down as I screamed and yelled incoherently in my panic-stricken state, before barking an order over his shoulder. I continued to claw frantically at his arms, utterly trapped in the vice-like grip, until I felt the painful jab of a needle. He gripped me as the drug rushed through my system, my limbs quickly turning numb and surrendering as I collapsed down onto the bed.

  The room swam uncontrollably and with a final scream, I relinquished control as the world turned dark.

  Waking up wouldn’t have been my choice. I would have happily slept forever, floating in the all-consuming darkness of unconsciousness. It wasn’t as good as my sacred haven, but it was better than living. Anything was better than being alive. That would have meant facing reality, a truly impossible task in my case. There was nothing left for me here. Nothing to make me want to keep going. I’d known the pain of living, the suffering and emotional turmoil inherent in existence.

  When my life finally ended at twenty one years old, I stepped off of the fragile platform of tangible life into the comfort of death. I shed the indistinct existence I’d inhabited since I was just a little girl, preyed upon by the big, bad man. I was submerged fully into the land of the deceased, leaving my physical form behind. My body died, just like my innocence and will had years before.

  He took my life from me, mentally, a long time before he finished the job. Before my physical body died too. Experiencing the blissful silence of death was refreshing and welcome. For the first time in my life, I’d been at peace, far away from everyone that had hurt me.

  But something, or someone, had forced me to come back. To dip my toes back into the world of the living. This wasn’t some accident, I refused to believe that. I’d felt my light being snuffed out, my soul untethering from my bleeding carcass and floating off into oblivion. There wasn’t some mistake or miscalculation. I’d died that night, next to the roaring traffic and hidden in the inky darkness.

  There was no disputing that.

  And yet, here I was.

  As I roused, back in the hospital bed, the pressure of the needle cut into my arm and the world swam around me. It was buzzing, ticking and dancing. Clearly the drip was feeding me some heavy drugs as I was as high as a kite. I didn’t even mind. My head was throbbing in the distance, my body physically drained fr
om the ordeal it had been through.

  Internally, my mind was screaming at me, imbued with the trauma I was faced with. No single person was meant to hold this much pain. It felt like it would burst free, explode out of my body like an almighty avalanche. But it remained locked within my psyche, not a single word escaping my mouth which remained tightly shut. I felt the wet warmth of hopeless tears on my cheeks, but I refused to open my eyes. I had no desire to be confronted with this new world, to look at anyone or anything.

  I wanted desperately to open my eyes and be surrounded by endless fields of green. It wasn’t a dream, I knew deep inside. It was a real place and I’d been there. My spirit, the real essence of my being had ended up in that beautiful meadow. Now that was a weird thought, but I knew it to be true. There was no denying my experience.

  But trapped back in a pitiful physical body, I was no longer at peace.

  The memories pushed at the edges of my consciousness, just waiting to be unearthed. Emotion was running through me like a burst tap, a steady current flooding my system and demanding to be acknowledged. The numbness was gone and replaced by pain. Lots and lots of pain. And messy, complicated emotions. Feelings that demanded attention.

  Time passed. My mind began to process slowly, filling the gaps and attempting to come to terms with my new reality. Unbidden memories continued to torture me, the distinct sensation of cold metal slicing into my skin, the sharp agony it brought with it as my life was viciously stolen from me by the monster that haunted my dreams. The sound of my screams still echoed in my head, on repeat like a sick record of self-torture. I wasn’t allowed to forget or be content, I was forced to remember.

  All I wanted was to open my eyes and be at home, with the comforting pale blue walls of my bedroom that Eve and I had badly painted in the summer. We ended up with more paint on each other than the walls, and it took hours to scrub the dried flakes from her hair. We chose the exact shade of blue that reminded me of the sea, visible clearly from my window. It was somewhere that offered me comfort and peace in my chaotic life. I had always loved walking along the beach, staring out into the endless expanse of blue. It was a short walk from our house on the blustery coast of Northern Cornwall, and I often sought comfort in the feeling of sand between my toes, along with the roar of the waves crashing down.

  He couldn’t find me there.

  It was my personal haven, away from my screaming parents and the constant looming threat. The flash of happiness in an otherwise bleak existence.

  But even more than my desire to smell the salty sea air was the longing to see Eve’s sweet face again. For her to come barging through the door, demanding to be played with. My little sister filled any room with her bubbling laughter, and would regularly tell me to get a grip when I needed it. Her innocently harsh words always put me in my place, and I wanted more than anything to see her face appear at my bedside. She would have known what to do, what to say. She would have given me the strength to get through this, like she’d been doing for years. I endured so much, but it was all for her.

  It was all to keep her safe, protected.

  To give her a childhood.

  But now, all that suffering was wasted. I was dead to her and she had no-one to protect her anymore. No-one to look after her. She may as well have been dead to me too. The likelihood of me ever seeing her again seemed slim somehow. Without her, life was meaningless. There was no point going on. I’d only stayed alive as long as I had for her. She was my beacon of light.

  I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t want to be alive, filled with memories of death and violence. I didn’t want to be covered in wounds and scars, forced to comprehend the trauma I had suffered. I didn’t want to feel.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Soft, murmuring voices broke my mournful thinking, the doctor’s melodic voice clear along with two other unknown voices. I tried to gather my scattered thoughts and concentrated on distinguishing the words that were being whispered.

  “Why was I not notified immediately? Any potentially gifted are to be dealt with in a manner befitting their importance, as you well know. I should have been summoned hours ago. This is a mess.”

  “I apologise, but we had no reason to believe that she was a unique case until the events that transpired. She displayed no signs of any gifts up until now, let alone any signs of mental presence prior to completion of the process. Her brain waves were unremarkable, no abnormalities or cause for concern. How was I to know that she would present with these memories? It’s unheard of. We expected her to simply be another regular admission,” Ruth defended.

  “This is simply impossible, no-one remembers anything beyond the point of death. No-one. Are you sure you aren’t mistaken? That she wasn’t just confused?”

  His voice was demanding and firm, the authority unmistakable.

  “I’m certain, Sir. She all out accused me of waking her up. There is something amiss here, for sure.”

  “I must speak with her at once and determine what the situation is. And please, keep this quiet for now. I don’t need anyone getting involved in an already delicate situation.”

  I managed to prise my heavy lids open with great effort, and focused my swimming vision on the figures conversing in the corner. The brute of a man that had rushed in and pinned me down was lounging against one of the walls, absentmindedly studying me with a steely expression. Beside him, Ruth was addressing the third figure, urgently gesticulating with her hands as she justified her actions. My gaze lifted to the source of her scolding, a tall figure resting on the chair with his arms firmly crossed over his chest. I could make out the dark grey of his tailored suit, but his face swam out of focus in my confused state.

  They continued to whisper until I stirred, the sheets around me rustling. Three pairs of eyes shot to my face in alarm as I attempted to gather my voice to speak, but my throat felt raw and damaged, resulting in a strangled sound emanating from my mouth. Ruth quickly rushed over, checking me and adjusting the bag of drugs attached to the line in my arm. She located a plastic beaker and gently brought it to my lips, allowing me to greedily gulp down water that eased the tension in my sore throat. I coughed and spluttered in my eagerness, so she removed the beaker and brushed at the moisture running from my mouth.

  When I attempted to lift my hands, I could once again feel the sharp tug of restraints against my wrists, which only confused me further. Memories of smoking shackles pierced through me, the burning rush of a powerful current that had coursed through my body. I met her eyes anxiously.

  “What happened?” I choked out.

  She smiled comfortingly at me once more. Before she could answer, the mysterious figure appeared at her side and he addressed her under his breath.

  “Cease administering the sedative, I am here now and need her to be conscious for this,” he implored.

  She scuttled off to slip the needle from my arm as instructed.

  I studied his increasingly clear face whilst this went on, taking in the sharp jaw and chiselled nose that were perfectly proportioned. His shoulder length, pale blonde hair was neatly combed back and secured at the nape of his neck, leaving his piercing eyes front and centre.

  He stared back and I had the distinct impression he was evaluating me, measuring me up for something I couldn’t even comprehend. I felt like a specimen under a microscope and shrank back, suddenly afraid of this odd figure and the authority he emanated.

  As he continued to take me in, I felt a searing heat rise in my temples and spread through my head. His gaze seemed imbued with power and my mind caught alight, metaphorically speaking. It was like having my internal workings stripped down bit by bit and dissected. He was frantically looking for something.

  After several painful seconds of this sensation, he broke eye contact and looked shocked, his sharp features twisted in disbelief. The heat intensified with his increasingly frenzied search, until he breathed deeply and the sensation abated as quickly as it had started.

  “How interest
ing,” he commented under his breath, quickly schooling his features back to reserved.

  “My dear, it is an honour to have you with us. I apologise for the way in which you have been dealt with thus far, but I am here to amend that. My name is Ravius. It’s Lexi, yes?”

  He spoke with infinite patience, his deep voice bringing an odd sense of calm over my body. I nodded slowly, which brought a small smile to his thin lips. He retrieved the chair from the corner and pulled it up to my bedside, drawing it so close that I could smell his peppery aftershave as it filled my nose. His presence was like a soothing balm to my frayed nerves, for reasons I couldn’t begin to fathom.

  I found myself hanging onto his every word.

  “I would prefer not to have to restrain you, so if you can assure me that you will try and remain calm, I will remove these shackles. However, if you find yourself overwhelmed once more, you will be restrained for your own safety. Is that clear?”

  I nodded quickly, unwittingly succumbing to the waves of authority that coloured his words. He reached over and released the heavy shackles pinning my arms down. I foolishly attempted to sit up from my reclining position in the hospital bed, and a fierce pain ripped across my chest. I remembered the graphic sight of the fresh wounds crisscrossing my body. After a few seconds of struggling, I settled in a vaguely comfortable position and Ravius glanced behind to the intimidating third presence who I recalled from before, addressing him as Brunt.

  “Please go and fetch Michael from the West Wing. We need her, and in this state it will take too long for her to heal, even as one of us.”

  Brunt looked reluctant to leave and started to protest but Ravius interrupted in a cold voice, saturated with power.

  “Go, now. I do not require protection from her, and she is not an everyday case, if that was not already clear. We will not treat her as one.”

  Brunt nodded and left the room, closely followed by Ruth, her beeping pager demanding her attention. Ravius turned back to me and smiled reassuringly whilst I mustered a weak smile. He seemed satisfied and continued.