$45.36

Chapter 9

Ryan stared at her, wide eyed. Was this why she'd refused to look at him when she'd left his house? If her father was supposedly the Devil, then that made her... After a long moment, he gave a sudden movement. Without warning, he drew his shirt over his head. Isla squeaked and covered her eyes. "It's not like you haven't seen a guy before." he managed through his teeth. She kept her hands over her eyes, ignoring him. He sighed softly. "You're such a girl at the worst of times. Izie, look at me." he breathed, gently drawing her hands away. Finally, she looked up at him, trying to hold her gaze to his eyes. She relented and let her eyes travel to the mark on his chest. It was odd, it looked kind of like a tattoo, but it somehow looked like it... moved. Not creepily like it was a living thing in his skin, but calmly. Every intake of breath he took it seemed to sway as a wave would as it rolled to the shore, and retreated as the moon pulled it away.

"When did you... get this...?" she finally voiced.

"I didn't. It just... showed up." he said calmly. "I had an odd dream. I don't really remember. But I remember a warning: 'the child of the Cursed One is near.'" he scanned her expression, waiting for his words to sink in. They didn't. "I think that may mean you, Izie." he gave in, sounding pained. Her eyes widened at that.

"You mean I did this to you?" she stammered, her mind repeating her father telling her of a power inside her. He stared at her sympathetically, but didn't respond. "It's my fault. All of it... Your father beats you because of me, you're in danger because of me, and now you're basically damned to Hell because of me! Ryan, I-"

"Isla Witte, shut up!" he spat, cutting her off as she startled. "I don't give a damn where I go, or what happens to me." he seemed to be having trouble with his mouth as he spoke. "My father's beaten me all my life, I'm used to it. But I'd rather he hit me every day than kill you. If you're from Hell and are not the worst person on Earth, then Hell can't be that bad. I don't care. So shut up, and don't ever repeat that. Got it!" he demanded fiercely, his shoulders were back and his hands in tight fists. He wrapped his arms around her as she buried her face in his shoulder, forgetting momentarily that he was shirtless. And then the door that had been apparently picked unlocked slammed open.

"Isla Witte what! Do you think you are doing!" He felt Isla freeze at her mother's angered voice. Ryan gave a groan of pain as his father yanked him away from her by the hair. Isla looked panicked at her mother.

"Mum! Mum, it's not what it looks like!" she yelped.

"Not what it looks like? You're in bed with a shirtless idiot behind a locked door and it's not what it looks like?" her mother fumed. She froze when she saw the mark on Ryan's chest. Then she strode stiffly across the room and grabbed Isla's ear between her fingers. "You." she hissed harshly, "Are grounded. And we're going home." Syren began to pull the resisting girl to her feet.

"Father! Let go!" Ryan struggled, trying to pull away from him.

"You're going home." the man growled in his ear. "And I will beat the life out of you." Ryan stiffened, knowing he meant that threat down to every last detail. He twisted painfully and landed a blow to his father's stomach, then let his knee follow the same path. He swung again, not caring when he felt a stab of pain in his hand as his fingers broke. He cried out when his father balled a fist and struck his jaw. He regained his senses when his father angrily secured his hands around his son's neck.

"Father..." he protested, clawing at the hands that had begun to squeeze. He felt the thin, inadequate streams of air burn down his throat and slowly thin to nothing as his father began blocking his airway. "Fa..." he gasped, his struggles getting slow and weak. His body was sluggish to respond to his racing mind. He locked his eyes on his father's, watching as the red around his eyes began to turn black and cloud his sight. He was vaguely aware of Isla crying somewhere far away, but all he could seem to focus on was sleep. He felt exhausted. All he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep. His weak attempts at freedom stilled as his arms dropped to his side and his shoulders began to relax. Finally, his eyes faded into the darkness as he went limp.

Isla screamed as Ryan's body fell to the bed limply.

"What the God damn hell are you doing!" Dr. Szala's voice yelled as she yanked Isla from her mother's restraining grip. "Get the hell out!" she stabbed a small button on the wall that gave off a small buzzing noise. It wasn't long before they heard footsteps pounding down the hall. Three men ran into the room, one took hold of Syren, one restrained Ryan's father, and the third pulled Isla's arms behind her back. She struggled with a cry of protest when he picked her up. She looked up, wide-eyed when a hand caught the wrist of the security guard.

"Let her go. She's fine." Dr. Tucker ordered, making sure the other two were gone before he looked at the man restraining Isla. He placed her back on her feet and left to help hold down Ryan's thrashing father as he got dragged down the hall. Isla watched, too stunned to do anything as Dr. Tucker helped Dr. Szala lie Ryan on his back. Dr. Szala pressed her ear to his chest. After a moment, she clenched her jaw and began chest compressions. She counted under her breath until she pulled away to tilt his head back. She pinched his nose closed and began forcing air into his lungs.

"Come on..." she muttered as she pulled away to continue the chest compressions." Come back Ryan, Sweetie..." Dr. Tucker pushed her aside when her movements got slower as her arms got tired and took up where she'd stopped. Isla stared as he pinched Ryan's nose and, without any hesitation, sealed his lips around the boys and began to breathe a steady stream of air into him. He pulled away just as Ryan gave a feeble, weak cough.

"Welcome back, Kid." he smiled lightly when Ryan groaned, slowly opening his eyes.

"What happened..." Ryan's voice slurred slightly; then he seemed to remember. "Father..." he said through a groan of pain. Dr. Tucker carefully placed a clear mask over his mouth and nose. After a moment, Ryan felt air pushing painfully down his throat.

"Quit talking!" Dr. Szala spat, striding forward with a roll of bandage. Gingerly, she lifted his hand and began to carefully wrap the injured fingers.

Everything hurt. His throat, lungs and head burned with each breath he took in, and felt like a thousand blades slicing his neck with each exhale. He felt odd. As if he were falling, but he could feel the bed he lie on. The room seemed to curve around him, and stretch. He felt sick, but didn't want to vomit for he knew of the pain it would cause to his throat. He felt as if a 50-pound weight had been dropped on his chest from a great height. "I was gone...?" he mumbled, his own voice sounding sluggish.

"I said don't talk!" Dr. Szala snapped, earning a cry of pain as she pressed two fingers lightly to his neck. "Tucker? Morphine?" she asked, holding out an expectant hand. He handed her an IV needle that she carefully inserted into his arm. After a few seconds, the pain faded to a numb pinch-like feeling, and he slowly relaxed. Eventually, his eyes began to drift closed.

How long was I asleep? Ryan held up the paper as Dr. Szala walked into the room, looking exhausted. She looked at him, then back at the paper she'd been filling out.

"So you're finally awake. About three days." she said stoutly. He blinked, then scribbled on the paper again.

Have you slept...? You look horrible. she glared at him when she'd read it.

"Is that something you enjoy doing? It's wrong to tell a woman she looks horrible." she grumbled, putting the clipboard down as she sat in a chair.

You didn't answer my question. he turned the paper to her again. She sighed loudly.

"Yes, I've slept. Happy? I've slept. Hardly. If you want to call that sleep." she said as she folded her hands in her lap and crossed her legs. She jumped, which was startling for a doctor to do, as the door swung open and Dr. Tucker strode in. He stopped when he saw Dr. Szala sitting there. He sighed with a tiny smile as he folded his arms.

"I thought I told you to get some rest?" he inquired with one eyebrow raised at her.

"Couldn't." she snapped, turning away from him. Ryan rolled his eyes and scribbled on the paper.

If I can deal with my father for 17 years, you can manage to sleep after three days, Doctor. Go to bed. She glared darkly at him then and got to her feet, pulling a needle from her pocket. Dr. Tucker grabbed her arm before she could reach him and pulled her back.

"Krystan, don't. You haven't slept and you've no idea what you're doing. Calm down. Give me that." he said as he plucked the needle from her hand. "I think you could use some sleep, don't you?" she turned on him then.

"Don't. You. Dare." she spat angrily. "I swear I'll-" she cringed with a drowsy protest as he plunged the sedatives into her arm. After a moment, she fell to the floor limply. Dr. Tucker looked down at her with a thoughtful look.

"I meant to catch her, I swear." he said when he saw the look he earned from Ryan. He knelt to the floor and carefully picked her up. "Be back in a moment." he said, walking out as she curled up like a child would in the arms of a parent. He returned after a few minutes empty-armed. "Your girlfriend opted to keep her company. No visitors for you today." Ryan gave a slightly painful laugh as he scribbled onto a fresh sheet of paper.

She's not my girlfriend. Just... a close friend. he turned the paper.

"Oops. Sorry, I just assumed." Dr. Tucker apologized, chuckling. Ryan shook his head to indicate he didn't mind.

Can I stand up yet? It's been driving me mad sitting around like this, I'm not good at not moving for long periods of time. The doctor pursed his lips at that.

"Not today, Kid. Your body is very weak right now. It needs time to build the strength to stand again. You can do a couple exercises if it would help." he offered calmly. Ryan nodded enthusiastically.