Guardian's Blood

My heart is pounding in my ears, drowning out everything else around me, the cold metal of chains scraping against my skin.

Blood. There is blood everywhere.

My blood.

Sweat pours down my back, tears escaping my eyes as another volt of electricity courses through my body, a hoarse scream leaving my lips before I can even process the pain. Gasping for air, I slowly tilt my head upwards when I hear a sound across the room, a slight scraping of chair legs. Gwen sits staring at me, all emotion long lost from within her deep, blue eyes. I go to speak, to beg, to plead; anything, but no sound comes out. My throat is raw, my voice robbed from me long ago, incapable of anything beyond a silent scream. I turn my head, my gaze drifting towards the chair on the other side of the room, the sharp needles catching my attention. I quickly look away, Gwen’s gaze following my every move.

“Why…” I gasp out, coughing harshly from the strain on my throat before trying again, clearing my throat several times. I have to know. “Why are you doing this? I thought…” another round of hacking coughs strains my throat before I can go on. “…I thought we were friends.” Gwen studies me for a moment, considering her answer carefully.

“We were never friends, Freya. This was always the end goal; you just never saw it coming.” I flinch aggressively, trying to keep as much distance between me and her as possible, but it’s no use. I can’t move a muscle, and as Gwen casually gets up and walks towards me, I have no choice but to hang helplessly from the wall, my shackles binding me in place. “However, … I suppose I can enlighten you as to why you are here. There is a reason, of course, though it is not the only reason you are here.” I stare at her venomously, before dropping my head weakly to stare at the ground. “This is revenge, Freya. For what you did to my father, for what you stole from my father.” I lift my head to look at her in question, causing her to laugh, a strange, strangled noise that I seem to feel deep down inside. “You don’t even know, do you? My father was supposed to be the Guardian! An honour that has been passed down for generations in my family before you stole it from him. You. A nobody. A… human. You brought shame upon my family, and yet, it seems, you don’t even know the power that you possess. The power that you stole.”

“Hu… human? Guardian? What… what are you talking about. Aren’t you human?” I cough harshly, my raw throat screaming at me in pain. “I trusted you, Gwen, how could you do this to me?”

“Ha! I could never be human,” she states venomously, ignoring my other questions, “but I suppose neither of us are.” She tilts her head slightly, studying me again, a strange feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. “The day of the Choosing was the day you were born, Freya. The Celestials felt your presence and claimed, in the middle of the ceremony, that a new line of Guardians had just been born. They said that my father was no longer worthy of such a title, but you were. A newborn child, a human child no less. Disgraceful!” She spits on the ground at my feet, seething angrily as she stares me down with her merciless gaze. I look back up at her defiantly.

“I never stole anything from you, Gwen!” She stares at me angrily, her eyes narrowed.

“You stole everything from me, Freya! I will avenge my father and restore the family name. The power you stole. You don’t even care!” She yells, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “When I first met you, three years ago, I thought that maybe you could be my first friend. I even thought that maybe humans weren’t so bad if one could be like you.” Through a hollow stare, her unshed tears begin to trail down her face. “But then I sensed it, the power within you, waiting to be awakened, when you would become Guardian. I knew that I had to wait until the time was right; only then would I be able to finally finish you off and avenge my father.” She smiles evilly at me, all sign of her tears now gone, teeth showing as she utters my death sentence. “But today I decided that waiting would take too long. You don’t deserve to live any longer. Three days, that would be far too generous of me. Wouldn’t it?” She steps back into the shadows, clicking her fingers to signal the guards who come rushing in to grab me.

“Please…” I beg, struggling against the strong guards who now have me in their grasp as Gwen walks back towards me, a glinting needle in her fist. Steadily, she raises it above her head before slamming it down again, a swift arc towards the exposed flesh of my thigh. I squeeze my eyes shut, awaiting the agonising pain that was sure to come from the needle headed straight for me, but… it doesn’t come. Slowly, I open my eyes again and find that standing before me, his back facing me, is Ezra, arms held aloft as he blocks Gwen’s blow.

“Ezra?” I rasp out, my voice barely audible, blood beginning to pool in my mouth. Coughing harshly, the blood begins to dribble from my mouth, a steady stream of red splashing against the rough, concrete ground below. Fear flashing across his features, Ezra stares at me as I hang there painfully, agonisingly. I am dying.

“Freya, what did she do to you? What is happening?”

“I didn’t do anything to her, Ezra; the transformation is simply happening early.” She tilts her head again, a perplexed look on her face as she inspects me. “Strange, it shouldn’t be possible, unless…” she abruptly cuts off, turning around swiftly on her heel and leaving, muttering to herself incoherently as she goes.

“Ezra, please. You have to help me; she did this to me. I’m dying, Ezra, I don’t have much longer. You have to help me!” Vision blurring slightly, I feel a powerful lurch in my stomach. A rush of saliva and blood pool deep in my throat, a faint taste of bile offending my taste buds; a brief sign of the oncoming expulsion of my insides before the feeling overcomes me, a guttural wrench in my stomach as the foul, slimy, yellow liquid escapes my mouth. I see a brief flash of concern and fear pass over Ezra’s face before the darkness consumes me, pulling me down, a strange comfort provided by the temporary pause of consciousness.

*

A feeling of dread settles in my stomach as I see her hanging there against the wall, a pool of vomit and blood by her feet. Dropping to my knees, ignoring the warm, wet feeling that seeps through into my pants, I press my ear against her chest, praying that Freya is still alive. Lowering my gaze, I listen closely for the sound of a heartbeat, my thoughts running wild in my mind as I consider every possible outcome at once. I feel and hear an audible sigh escape my mouth as the faint sound of a heartbeat reaches my ear, the only sign that Freya is still alive. But I can feel her slipping away, slowly losing the fight.

I jump to my feet, setting to work rummaging through every crack and crevice of the room. I have to find the key; I have to save her. I search for a full minute before I come across a small chest, every second of the search crawling painfully on as I watch the near ghostly movement of Freya’s chest, each pause dragging on much longer than the breath itself. Grabbing frantically at the chest, I fumble to open the lid, revealing a small key buried among a vibrant red scrunchie. Freya’s. I grab the key and quickly stuff the scrunchie in my pocket, saving it to give to her later before rushing to her side with the key in hand, unlocking her chains as I finally set her free. As the lock clicks open of the final shackle Freya’s limp body slumps against mine, my body the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground in a pile of limbs. I feel her soft, fluttering breath lightly hit my face as I tilt my chin down to look at her, my heart beating faster with every second that goes by without a breath entering her lungs.

Bracing her body against mine, I lift her into my arms and start towards the door, a fragmented plan to get her to the hospital beginning to form in my mind. As my fingers brush against the doorknob, I hear a crash from behind, causing my body to whirl around to face the danger and protect Freya.

“I see you found the key, Ezra, but I have to warn you; you’ve released the wrong thing.”

“You’re wrong, Gwen, it is you who should not be free. Freya is innocent, despite what you may believe inside that messed up mind of yours.” I snap, pulling Freya closer in the process. I have to get her out of here. Gwen stares at me strangely, a mix of anger and hurt from the words I just threw at her.

“If that is what you truly believe, then I suppose it is time that I left.” She turns to leave but seems to change her mind at the last second, seemingly having one last thing that she has to say. “I’m sorry, Ezra, I truly am sorry. I hope that everything turns out all right for you in the end, and I hope that you are strong enough to see her for what she is before it’s too late. You’re a smart kid, Ezra. I just hope that your heart doesn’t get in the way of your brain.” She looks down solemnly at the ground before looking me in the eye one more time, smiling sadly before turning to leave again, this time following through with the action and not returning.

Looking down quizzically at Freya I study her features closely, her fragmented breaths, the pained yet peaceful expression on her face, and I wonder to myself what exactly Gwen could have meant. Freya wasn’t a monster; was she?

Drawing her body close to mine, I head for the door a second time, my hand grasping the handle and turning it, pushing the door steadily open, the world around me distorting. I feel as though time itself slows down as I run down the long, winding corridor, muffled shouts and heavy footfalls sounding in my ears, but I barely notice them. My gaze fixated on the exit ahead, I pick up my pace, a strange, in-human speed taking over my body as I race outside.

Doing a brief check for cars I rush across the street, narrowly avoiding a collision with a Toyota RAV4, the driver cussing at me as I fly down the street. Tears beginning to build in my eyes, I frantically whip my head from side to side, searching for help, a hospital, anything.

My mind so focused on keeping Freya safely cradled in my arms, I don’t notice the big hospital looming ahead until I nearly collide with a doctor standing outside, pushing an old man in a wheelchair back towards the entrance. Crying out briefly in alarm as he struggles to steady the old man, he holds out his arms to try and calm me.

“Woah, kid, woah! Calm down. Tell me what happened. What’s got you in such a state?” Racking my brain, I try to come up with an excuse without having to fully explain the situation to him. Freya doesn’t have long left. As if reading my mind, the doctor looks down worriedly at Freya, still cradled in my arms, and immediately seems to decide that an explanation can wait until later. “Here, here, pass her here boy. Bring her inside.” He instructs, holding out his arms to grab her from me.

I pull back, bringing Freya closer. Seeming to sense I won’t budge, he ushers me inside, calling out to some staff by the entrance to grab the old man and bring him in to his room, rushing through the corridors as I trail helplessly behind him, Freya’s weight beginning to drag me down.

Bursting through the doors of a surgery room, the doctor rushes in, going straight to work to save Freya. I stand awkwardly by the door, my muscles beginning to burn and shake violently as the strain of holding Freya takes its toll. I feel as though every fibre of my body is screaming at me, but my hold never wavers, my eyes staring purposefully ahead, awaiting whatever instructions the doctor would issue for me to follow.

Seeming to sense I was still standing by the door, the doctor turns around and ushers me towards the operating table in the middle of the room, instructing that I place Freya down in preparation for whatever may be required to save her. Following his instructions obediently, I place Freya down and stand over her, looking down and watching desperately as the rise and fall of her chest continues to fade further and further out of sync, willing her to hold on just a little bit longer.

The doctor comes over clutching medical supplies to his chest, shooing me out of his way with the wave of his spare hand, dumping the supplies on the table standing beside Freya’s lifeless form. I briefly glance at his name tag, just barely registering his name as Dr. Samuel Goldberg, before averting my gaze to continue guarding Freya. My senses seem to explode, and I suddenly feel as though I am aware of everything around me. Every sound, every movement, every person; I can feel them all.

Staring down fiercely at Freya as Dr. Goldberg gets to work, I watch helplessly from her side as her breathing slowly settles into a steady rhythm with the help of a ventilator, and the colour begins to return to her face once the bleeding has finally subsided. I sit by her side all night in the hospital room, waiting for her to finally wake up.

At 2 am, she does. Eyes flickering slightly at first, a soft groan escaping her lips before she suddenly bolts upright, gasping frantically for air, blinking painfully as the light hits her tired, unfocused gaze. Groggily looking up at me, she clutches her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut once more in pain, drawing her head back into herself. After a beat of silence, she gradually looks up, her breathing fading to a normal rhythm. She tilts her head upwards to look me in the eyes, a small smile creeping onto her face.

“Ezra?” She rasps out, her tired vocal cords straining to speak after so long not using them. “You saved me.” I smile back at her then, a slow warmth spreading through my whole body. Getting up and leaning down to her, I wrap my arms tightly around her waist, soaking in the incredible moment.

In that moment I was more certain than I had ever been; I was in love with Freya Berry, the most loving, beautiful and honest person I had ever met, and nobody would ever change that.

*

I sit there bewildered for a moment, Ezra’s arms around my waist, his head rested on my shoulder. I can feel the warmth of his body coursing through me at his touch, his steady heartbeat pounding against my chest, rapidly speeding up in time with my own racing heart. I gently press my body into his, accepting the security and love that he brought with him. After a minute or two, I pull away, my hands on his chest as I lower my head in shame.

“I can’t, Ezra. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.” He stares at me, a look of hurt and confusion passing across his face.

“What do you mean? Don’t deserve what?” I meet his gaze, his deep, green eyes causing my heart to skip another beat. I shake my head. I can’t feel this. I can’t do this to him.

“I’m not who you think I am, Ez. Gwen, she… she was telling the truth.” I drop my head into my hands, curling up into a ball on the bed. How could I do this to him?

“Freya?” Ezra says, shaking my shoulder slightly. He tilts my chin up to look at him gently, his green eyes feeling as though they’re staring deep into my soul as he asks me the hardest question I have ever been asked. “What was Gwen telling the truth about, Frey? What… what did you do?” I pull away slightly, dropping my gaze again to avoid having to see the hurt in his beautiful, green eyes as I tell him the truth.

“I killed him, Ez. I killed Gwen’s father.” Hearing his reaction, his audible gasp at the awful revelation I’ve just brought upon him, I flinch backwards. Barely finding the strength, I look up at him again, seeing the pure horror and betrayal written in every feature of his face.

“How?” He starts, “Why? What?” I look down again in shame, answering his unsaid question.

“I was afraid. I found out about the powers; the ones the Celestials gave to me. I didn’t deserve them, and Gwen’s entire family knew it. He came after me, one night, about a month ago.” I look up at Ezra again, needing to tell him face to face. “He came to kill me, Ez, and I… I killed him first.”