11. Emily - Shocked I

The tip of the knife digs into my chest, the sharp point pierces my chest.

Oh God, 514 is going to kill me!

Blood runs down my skin.

I’m so scared, I don’t dare move a muscle. Despite everything that has happened to me, I don’t want to die.

514 says something in Cherokee before putting the knife against the corner of my mouth and quickly moving it from left to right with a swift movement of his wrist. What is he doing?

Without a word, he throws the knife in the sink and sits at the table, leaving me completely stunned.

I don’t know what to make of his behavior. He’s so… erratic. Whatever Azael did to him cost him his mental health. All those Azael experimented on forgot what it means to be a Lord, forgot who they were before they were taken to the medical clinic. Just as I forgot how a Lady should behave herself and not get involved with Dukes.

The crow is still in my hands. It looks up at me and suddenly pecks at my lips, removing one of the stitches. I stare at the little black string for a few moments. I blink several times, thinking I’m imagining things, but the string is still in the bird’s beak.

I take a trembling hand to my mouth and feel around with the tips of my fingers. 514 cut off the stitches. I came to believe that I’d die with my lips sewn together. I tried to make 514 remove them for a long time, but he always ignored all my attempts to communicate. And now, all of a sudden, he’s talking to me. I don’t know what to make of it.

I wait for a moment to see what 514’s next move is before I yank out the remaining stitches. It hurts since they are stuck in my flesh, and I have to pull hard, but pain is not something new to me. When I’m done, I throw the stitches in the garbage and clean the blood around my mouth with my sleeve. Then I turn to face the table. Cirro is eating another jello while 514 is lost in thought. Neither is paying attention to me. My gaze goes to the jello.

My stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten in a long time, but I’m more worried about the bird than myself. After licking my lips, I dare say, “The bird needs to be taken to the vet. Its left wing is broken.”

My voice sounds hoarse since it’s been so long since I’ve spoken.

514 snaps his gaze at me. “Where did you find the crow?”

This is the first time that he’s talking to me in a calm voice. All this is because of an injured bird.

“During the storm, it crawled into the basement,” I reply. Even if I only spoke two sentences, my throat feels dry and itchy. “Can I have some water?” I ask.

514 pauses for a moment. As if remembering something, he asks Cirro, “Did you feed her while I was gone?”

“You said to stay away from her,” Cirro replies.

514 greets his teeth. “That didn’t stop you from taking her to the store.”

“I needed food for my cats,” Cirro says.

514 lets out a sound of annoyance before saying to me, “Grab whatever you find in the fridge and eat. There should be orange juice in there, too.”

This is a very strange day. It almost feels as if 514 is playing a mental game with me. Everyone else in my life did so. Except Stefan, Alekos, and Reyes. They are the only ones who treated me with love and respect.

I put the crow back under my hood, go to the fridge and open it. Except for a couple of beers and some leftover pizza that doesn’t look edible anymore, the fridge is empty. I close it before going to fill a glass with tap water.

“You can have ramen,” Cirro says.

A bowl of ramen sounds wonderful, so I say, “Thank you.”

“Make some for me,” 514 says.

“It’s my ramen, and I didn’t choose to share it with you,” Cirro grumbles.

514 waves a hand at the counter. “Look how much ramen you bought. Why do you need so much, anyway?”

Cirro finishes his jello and stands. “I like ramen,” he says before putting the spoon in the sink and grabbing his backpack with the cat supplies in it. He leaves the kitchen, leaving me alone with 514.

“Where are the pots?” I ask.

514 replies with a shrug of his shoulders.

I look around until I find them. While I wait for the water to come to a boiling point, I wonder, “Will you lock me back in the basement?”

He doesn’t reply, but he’s definitely thinking about it.

Since I don’t think anything good will come from forcing an answer from him, I change the subject. “What about the crow? We can’t leave it like this, with its wing broken,” I try to convince him to take the poor creature to the vet.

“Do you ever shut up?” 514 growls, “or you just talk and talk and talk some more? This is why I sewed your mouth shut so that I wouldn’t hear you anymore!”

He’s right. I do talk too much. What man likes a woman who only knows how to ramble?

“I’m sorry,” I mumble before focusing only on cooking the ramen.