"Priestling?"
Darkness spurted out of his skin, dripping down his every pore. Elijah's eyes blurred into a distant haze as he gasped.
He couldn't hear his own heartbeat thudding in his chest, he couldn't see the light, he couldn't breathe.
"Fuck! Hey, listen to me, damn it! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Pain lanced through his ribs. For one brief, delirious moment, Elijah wondered—were they broken too, just like the rest of him?
Would they bleed red if he slashed a dagger inside his chest? Would the crimson stain his fingers instead of murky darkness if he twisted the sharp blade deep enough?
Red...
It was tempting. So very tempting that before he realized it, his nails were digging into his chest, clawing deeper.
"What the hell are you doing? Stop it!"
Strong hands seized his wrists, holding him down. The coldness of the sheets bit into his spine, but it was nothing compared to the ice spreading inside him.
