drina perez is lost (stilldefending) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2014-03-16 17:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | #flashback, #solo, drina |
i cannot shake the taste of blood in my mouth
WHO | Drina
WHERE | Her home in Virginia
WHEN | March 2009, evening
Her maternity leave wasn’t due to kick in for weeks, yet here she was out of work because of a fever. The thought irritated her; she was still waiting for the test results of her attack from work a few weeks ago, but she didn’t think the fever had anything to do with that man biting her. The injury had been cleaned the day of and the medics that took care of her said the likelihood for infection was low as long as she kept the wound clean. Drina had kept the bitemark pristine and changed her bandages regularly, partially because of what the doctors had ordered and partially because it was almost the only thing she had to do while she was on leave. That was the other thing that annoyed her about the fever; she’s already missed a week of work because she was bitten and she really didn’t want to miss another day.
Drina groaned and wrapped her arms around her stomach as the cramp tore through her lower half. She turned her head so that her voice was muffled into the pillow and by the time the pain began to subside, there was a sheen of sweat upon her forehead. She’d been so foolish to insist that Heath go ahead with his venture out of town. He didn’t want to leave her feeling under the weather when it could be anything from the bite on her arm to the growing baby inside her womb. Yet, she insisted. Being so stubborn was a tragic flaw of hers, one that she knew she inherited from her mother. Her breath was hitched slightly, but she continued to run the palm over her stomach.
What was once taut muscle was now stretched outwards and made it look like she was smuggling some melon under her flesh. Yet the feeling was smooth and warm and even soft. She found that rubbing her stomach helped soothe her nerves, not to mention the baby that was kicking up a storm inside of her. He must have felt her growing anxiety or maybe he was just aware of how ill she was feeling. Whatever the reason, he was more active than usual and the sensation made Drina feel even more nauseous.
She kicked the comforter away from her body; lying in bed was bad enough, but now she couldn’t find a single way to be comfortable. Without the blanket, chills rose along her arms and legs. With the blanket, beads of sweat formed between her breasts and down her spine. Drina carefully slid to the edge of the bed and swung around so that her feet brushed the cool hardwood floor. Perhaps a glass of water would help her feel a little better.
Drina’s head swam as she quietly stepped down the stairs and she was forced to hold onto the banister to keep from losing her balance and toppling right over. The living room was dark, but she could see well enough thanks to the streetlights pouring light through the windows. She made her way into the kitchen. Her dishes from dinner were still in the sink, unwashed. Her dinner itself, a light salad with a hunk of bread had only been half eaten before she threw it out. The smell of the dressing just turned her stomach and that ruined her appetite altogether.
Reaching up to pull a glass out of the cabinet, she realized that the bite along her arm was burning and itching all at the same time. Her jaw clenched and she refused to bring her other hand up to scratch at the bite through the bandage; her doctors would have a field day if she didn’t let it heal properly and then where would she be? Home. For good.
Being home wasn’t the problem, Drina knew. It was the idea that after she returned to work, she would no longer be a field agent. Heath had pulled strings and insisted that she get a job working for the District Attorney’s office. With her knowledge and passion for putting away criminals, she was just what they needed. Logically, it was a sound move and she acquiesced with little arguing. Her being out in the field terrified Heath, but especially now that she had actually been injured. There was no way that she could return to the field after this, not with her husband worrying constantly. She made the move for him.
The water was cold as it trickled down her throat in small gulps and she turned the tap on to refill her glass once it was empty. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, trying to figure out if she was hot or cold in this moment. Sweat still formed along her skin, skin that was hot to the touch she realized. She sat the glass down onto the counter, a drop of water sliding down the side and resting against the marble counter top. Going outside was not he best of ideas, especially considering that it was sometime in March and spring had yet to really settle into the ground, but Drina had this idea that fresh air was what she needed. Being out under the moonlit sky while the breeze played with the trees and the loose tendrils of her hair seemed like good enough medicine. She unlocked the back door and proceeded out onto the bricked patio walkway. In the corner of the yard, beneath a small maple tree, a pile of snow still clung to the grass. The shapeless heap of frozen water had yet to melt since the snow from two weeks ago and it looked out of place next to the green yard and the beginnings of a small flower garden next to the house.
Taking a deep breath, Drina found that she could smell daffodils. The bulbs Heath planted must have sprouted out in the front because she didn’t see any blossoms in the back. She found it odd that she could smell them so easily back here, but she did not dwell on the thought. Instead, she looked up at the darkening sky. The streetlights that surrounded her neighborhood chased the starlight away, so she could only see a few stars, but it was the moon that had captured her gaze. Pale and silver, it was rising steadily into the sky from the horizon. She’d never paid attention to the moon before -- of course, she found it cold and beautiful, but she was a woman who did not spend her nights stargazing and writing poetry -- but now, she was captivated. Something about how completely round and full it seemed as it hung in the air mesmerized her. It was so large that she began to wonder if this moon was just for her, a private beauty hovering in the night sky, just waiting for her to come out and appreciate it.
Another cramp tore through her core and the pain was so sudden and unexpected that Drina dropped to her knees. The ground was cold and hard, almost as if it was expecting another snow before winter relinquished its grip. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and cried out. Deep breath she told herself. One after another. Breathe in. Breathe out. Again. She waited for the pain to subside, but it didn’t Instead it only sharpened, the way you would hone the edge of a knife against a whetstone. She tried to push herself up onto her feet, but another cramp chased the first and brought her down again.
“God, not now.” She pleaded. “Please not now. The baby can’t come now. It’s too soon.”
She was answered with another wave of burning pain, this one sent her sprawling forward and she caught herself by holding onto the grass in front of her. She clawed at the ground, feeling dirt slide under her fingernails as the roots of the grass snapped free of the ground. The cramps, or contractions she supposed, were coming faster now, and harder. She could barely catch her breath between them. Her cries caught the attention of her neighbors, but they were of a mind that interfering was not the way to go. Their lights were shut off, the curtains thrown shut in front of their windows. A world of indifferent men left Drina to only one witness: the moon.
The pain erupted and ripped through her body. No longer was it concentrated in her lower abdomen, but now it skimmed along her bones like a trail of fire beneath the muscle and tendons. It screamed up along her spine, hitting every vertebrae until it came crashing into her skull. She felt it pool just behind her eyes and mouth and she barely registered the coppery taste of blood on her tongue. She collapsed onto the ground, her mouth wrenched open in a scream she couldn’t hear anymore.
Drina’s eyes were squeezed shut, as if seeing the world around her would only increase her pain. If her eyes were open, she might have seen that the hands that tore at the ground no longer resembled the hands of a petite woman; her slender fingers had doubled in size and were growing as if they were reaching for something unseen in front of her. She might have seen that the same was happening to her arms and legs. She might have even caught a glimpse of her shadow along the ground, the curve of her spine elongating and her very skull breaking outward.
She was deafened by the sound of bones snapping. Each one seemed to rumble and crack like thunder in her ears. The scream that had sounded so desperate in the beginning now began to roll out of her throat in the form of a low growl. The pain flashed in her mind like red bolts, splitting her sanity open. What good sense she had left ebbed away and left behind a raw sort of anger and emotion, a thirst to end the pain in any way possible.
The thing that opened its eyes was no longer Drina. She was locked away somewhere in the hulking beast, something that was not human and not an animal. Thick, black fur coated its body and it was slick with perspiration and blood. Its amber eyes caught the moon and held a gaze for a long minute before it tossed its head back and screamed a long, chilling howl, a song for the silver goddess above.