Chapter 5 Blood Stain Everywhere

THREE DAYS LATER

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Calista watched as each drop of water from the tap fell into the sink, its drip sound a dull resonance in her mind.

The numbness was spreading, but it wasn't fast enough for her. A tingling sensation still buzzed within her skin, her ears were ringing, and her heart was beating mercilessly against its cage.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Will it ever get easier? Will the pain ever be dull to handle? Would she always feel this sensation under her skin whenever she operated on someone?

God, she couldn't.

She would go crazy. She would peel her own skin off just to be rid of that buzzing. She would rip her own heart out just so she couldn't feel again.

She hadn't been able to save a life today. A girl that had so much life in front of her. But that life has slipped past Calista's fingers today. She could do nothing but watch as the girl's heart stopped beating. She could do nothing when the girl's mother flung herself to the ground and wept.

She could still hear the woman screaming and begging them to tell her it was a lie and that her daughter was still alive.

Calista had been tempted to tell her just so she could stop hearing the woman's cries.

But that would be cruel, and Calista was not cruel, no matter how she wished she was. Because if she was cruel, then she wouldn't feel like this. She wouldn't feel like she was falling apart, only hanging by a thin thread just because she couldn't save a life today.

She was no god. She tried to save people from what she knew, it wasn't her fault if they died. She shouldn't blame herself so much. But yet she does.

The brown eyes at the mirror turned glassy, then a tear slipped through, then another.

Goddamn it!

Why wasn't she numb yet? Why was she still feeling? She... she didn't want to feel. Goddamn it, she didn't want to feel. Because she might go crazy, or she might be eaten alive by feelings.

Calista felt everything to an extreme. That was her blessing and that was her curse. When she was happy, she was happy to the fullest. When she was angry, sad...

Her hands that were placed on top of the sink shook, her eyes in the mirror turning red. She closed her eyes because she couldn't bear the haunted look in those eyes.

She couldn't.

She bit her tongue to keep the sobs that wanted to burst out in. It wasn't her fault.

"It wasn't my fault," she whispered out loud as if it would convince her heart, her head. Her voice was hoarse, broken. And the sob almost burst out but she hit her tongue harder, tasting iron.

The pain seemed to ground her and the fog behind her eyelids began to clear.

It wasn't her fault.

***

Calista decided to walk home. She had gone back to her house since that day with Jaxon. She knew he would leave her alone. And truly, he did. She hasn't seen him since that day. She didn't know why that made her heart heavy with disappointment when she had refused his offer.

She wanted to see those eyes, those very expressive eyes. But she wouldn't, because she being close to him meant she would be close to his life. She wouldn't want to touch that with a fifty-foot-long pole.

She sighed, her legs suddenly too heavy.

She could still hear the mother's scream. In the silence that followed after the heart monitor flatline.

She wanted to reach home where she would curl up in her bed then sleep, or maybe cry. Crying will be–

Calista froze on her steps.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

The streets were too quiet. Even though it was late, it shouldn't be this quiet. Calista has walked this road countless times and this was the first time the street has been too... still.

Her pulse quickened as unease curled around her ribs, the hair at the back of her neck standing on end.

Oh, something was definitely wrong.

She was just readying herself to run when a sharp sound cut through the air. Gunshots.

Every single cell in Calista's blood shut down and she went completely still, and a sweat broke out on her body even though the evening air was cool. She wasn't even breathing. She was.. She was having a panic attack. But unlike the other people who screamed and sobbed when they had panic attacks, Calista just stood still, her breath a harsh panting.

The gunshots went off again and this time, shouts followed. Calista flinched, finally snapping out of her stillness, but she still didn't move, couldn't run.

Blood.

Oh God, there was blood everywhere. Her white gown was stained with it. It was on her hands, everywhere. A strangled sob burst out of her as she tried to remove the blood from her hands.

"It wouldn't come off." Her voice sounded rough and it sounded like she was talking underwater. "It won't come off!"

She heard screams and she flinched, her entire body feeling like electricity was passing through it.

Screams.

Screams.

Screams.

She blinked–

Her father, kneeling, blood dripping down his temple. Her siblings, their tiny hands clawing at the men holding them. A gun. Pressed cold to her father's head.

Calista screamed, lunging for her family but strong hands held her back.

She screamed and fought against them, trying to get to her family. She had to... She... She had...

They were going to die and she was going to watch. She couldn't. It was better to die with them.

She fought harder but the hands around her didn't relent.

"Calista!"

She fought harder, thrashing, screaming, acting like a woman possessed. She had to get to them. She wanted to die with them.

"Calista, snap out of it!"

"No!" she screamed back. "Let me go!"

"Calista, it's Jaxon!"

Huh? Jaxon? How...

She blinked the tears away in her eyes and the streets came back into focus. She looked down at her gown and there... there was no blood. She trembled, a sob bursting out of her, loud and ugly.

She thought she was getting better. She thought she had been healing. But she just kept relapsing. Her stupid therapist had told her she needed time, but how much time did she need? It has been ten years, goddamn it!

She cursed Felicia whenever she was for giving her false hope that she would heal.

"Hey," a voice said calmly behind her and she froze. That was when she realized that there were hands around her and her back was pressed against a hard chest. "It's Jaxon," the voice whispered, releasing her gently.

She staggered forward when he released her, and Jaxon was there to steady her.

She blinked up at him, and her eyes landed on black eyes. It was really him.

"Jaxon?" Her voice sounded hoarse like she had been screaming.

Right.

She had.

"We need to get out of here," Jaxon said softly, but his features were hard.

"What's–" Her words were lost as another gunshot went off.