Chapter Five.

Sorah’s POV

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I clamp both palms over my mouth and turn away from the mirror in terror. Who is that? Is that...really me? I feel cramps in my chest suddenly.

I flee to the open window and gasp as rattling bouts of fright distill my being. Is that how I’ve been moving about since? Carrying my inner misery on a display over my face like that. Like announcing to the whole world just what level of damnation has befallen me.

My watery eyes elevate into the night sky and I stiffen at the sight of something disturbing perched in the distance on the old Oak tree.

It’s...returned.

The silhouette of a person that I often saw the previous week at night times like this. I’ve only ever shaken in fear and pulled my curtains while I ran into bed to hide.

It’s a mystery I’m still bugged about, but suddenly, it stopped appearing out of the blue and now, it seems to have returned as if to mock me as well.

I wipe the tears away from my face and fist my tremoring hands. Keeping keen eyes on the unwavering silhouette, I whip away from the window and hasten downstairs and out of the cottage through the back door.

To my expectation, the silhouette is still there, as if staring down at me, and I march forward.

The weather outside is cold but not chilly. The breeze is strong, foretelling the impending rain as dark clouds color the sky. Thanks to this, it’s extra dark out tonight, with my vision relying on the reflection of the lights at the cottage as I close in on the fence.

I jerk my head back and squint my gaze, jolting with surprise at the silhouette making movements.

Is it coming down...to meet me?

My displaced fear returns to grip me, but I shake it off and work my legs to go closer, ignoring the warning alarms set off in my head.

I’m broken anyway. If whatever it turns out to be, is a foe that might kill me, I do not need fear. It’s not like I had a purpose, to begin with. I’m a worthless and disposable existence. I hold no grudges nor malice either.

This way might be best, to liberate my soul and find solace.

Snap.

I halt just as I get close to the slanted branch resting against the crack in the fence. What’s that sound just now? It came from above. I jerk my neck back-

“Ah!”

I scream when something comes crashing onto me and pushes me flat on my back on the damp lawn. A crackling spasm of unimaginable pain breaks in a convulsing rush down my spine and resonates throughout my being as my lips break apart to gush a gasp.

The sudden weight condemning my body to pain and tremors is making restless movements as I wince ceaselessly from the devouring pain. My head swirls an entire sixty degrees, the back of it throbbing badly. As the restless movement ensues, I start to feel grazing motions over my body.

Are those hands?

Aish! What’s this wetness soaking into my dress? I wince once more with confusion weaving onto my face as I try to lift my head since I can’t connect with my limbs properly. The wetness seems to be spreading fast!

I hear a deep defiant groan just then that sends the coldest chills down my body and restricts the air I’m breathing. Blinking many times, the image starts to form as the darkness gains clarity.

Hot air smears across my face and bright crimsons set fire as they meet mine and transfix them. My skin sizzles each time they exhale against my face, panting laboriously, yet, their magnetic eyes refuse to unhinge from my bedazzled ones.

Wait- Crimson eyes?

“Don’t look at me like that...filthy human woman”

Ah! I snap out of my trance, wincing with a bite of my lower lip when sloppy hands brush off my legs and their form heaves off my body and fall onto the lawn on my right side. This brings them into the light shining from the cottage and I make out the visible form of a man clad in an onyx cloak and bare is footed.

I want to move when he breaks into rough hacks, his entire form quaking heavily, but I recall the wetness in my clothes and retract my hand a bit to peer down my body. I exclaim loudly to see the red stain drenched in my dress and I turn to him with great alarm.

I start to see it, the redness starting to dye into the grasses, and my heart sinks.

“H-hey! You’re badly injured...we need to get you treated- To a hospital!”

Fierce disregarding crimsons shun me at the mention of the hospital, and I shiver when he picks himself up to growl so reproachfully, “Don’t you dare...take me to any hospital-” He breaks off rudely, cowering beneath with deathly weight of his hackles.

What do I do? I can’t leave him like this. He needs immediate treatment. I know, I can bring him into the cottage and help stitch and treat his wounds. That’s it.

“I’m sorry, but I need you to go into that building with me. I promise not to take you to a hospital” I start to say in a low and coaxing voice, looking at his trembling frame cautiously.

Crimsons regard me with suspicion but he says nothing, grumpily heaving his body up. I spring up at once and catch him on time before he stumbles forward. This sudden action drives me beneath his arm and pressing into his side.

I blush impulsively, an electric jolt burning down to my toes as I flounder in my grip to hold him. When he groans, I snap out of it and begin to guide him toward the back entrance of the cottage.

It’s not until I drop him on the rug in the living room to quickly go fill a bowl of water and grab a rag that it strikes me.

I come to a standstill by the threshold of the kitchen on my way back. It downs on me so heavily...that I’ve let a stranger into the cottage without an ounce of doubt.

My conscience begins a battle with my humanity.

After all, I did submit to whatever fate I would meet when I approached the silhouette. But turns out it’s only a man who’s in deep trouble. I won’t think of anything else other than the task at hand. I need to help him and that’s all there is.

It might’ve been nothing I’ve never done since I have a phobia of men, however, when it comes to treating a patient, I give no damn about sexes.

I return to the living room to find him writhing in pain. I get down on my knees and reach my hands to help him do away with his blood-soaked and torn clothes.

“Please, try to hold on while I get these off. It must hurt too much...I’m so sorry”

How can he even survive this long with such ghastly injuries? My heart pangs for him and I have to force my tears back as I begin to rip the fabric of his clothes since I can’t get them off the normal way. The blood is everywhere. He’s coughing up blood, and the lacerations are too deep.

He’s losing too much blood...this is horrible!

My hands wobble, losing hope as I fall back on my heels with anguish. Watching him writhe and squirm, suffering from internal and external misery, the dying voice of pain, and the ever-oozing blood soaking into the rug...I feel defeat like never before crush my being.

Don’t give up, Sorah. Use it, I’m sure it can help save him.

A small voice rings within my soul and at once, it invigorates me with a spurt of courage I’ve never felt before. I feel it tremor into my arms and swell in my chest.

This unfamiliar, yet very familiar warm course of energy tingling across my being.

I can do this. It might’ve been ages since I last tried, but I’m confident I can do it.

First, I need to stabilize him, it won’t be effective if he’s restive. So I reach for some sedative herbs next to me and dart forward to feed them to him. I make him turn on his side to face me. I nearly slip when I see the despair on his bloody face, but my resolve assures me and I gently chide him to chew the herbs and swallow them.

It takes effect after a few seconds and I watch as his body starts to lull into stillness. I’m glad, even if only for a little while, I can relieve him of his misery. And I can get to work properly.

The amount of blood sends a jab of nausea to jitter me, and I feel my hands tremble with reluctance.

No, I can’t falter now, the life of this man depends on me.

I take in a deep breath and firm my face as I flatten my palms over the deep cuts tarnishing his torso.

Think of the help you wish to render, and let the energy flow smoothly out of your palms. The kinder your heart, the more effective and faster the healing takes place.

My eyes flutter shut as I start to douse my mind into a trance. Concentration happens in seconds and I feel the old warm energy permeating through my entire being and flowing gently out of my palms. I keep this process up until exhaustion kicks in and nudges me out of my trance.

I’ve had this strange but miraculous power of healing since my conception. It’s rare, so rare that most people out there believe it’s only a myth.

A strange phenomenon happens exclusively within a family of generational elite Hunters, where a girl child will be born with zero talent and skill for being a Vampire Hunter. In exchange for these, the child will be bestowed with the exceptional prowess of Healing.

I’ve been a living myth ever since, one no other soul asides from my grandmother, is aware of.

In grandmother’s words, no matter what, no other soul must come to know of this power, or else it’ll herald chaos that will threaten to ruin me. The last time I made use of it was when Upma was attacked by a Bear ten years ago. I never used it ever again so I can protect myself.

But today, I know it’s right to use it to save a life, and I’m proud of it as my grandmother will be as well.

To my surprise, most of the cuts are closing up, patching themselves. For sure, it’s not as I expect it to be, to be of the level where there’s no longer even a slight remnant of the cuts. But if anything, the bleeding has stopped and the depth of the cuts is now shallow.

I stagger and fall back, croaking with amazement. “Woah...I really did it after all”

Sharply, I’m sinking the rag into the warm water, wringing it, and dabbing about his bare torso to rid the blood.

My eyes keep dancing about his unnaturally defined muscles and deep grooves. What a fascination, I’m in awe at the giddy exploration of this stranger’s body.

He’s gloriously ripped and seems to have a rather athletic build, perfect for combat.

I gulp and caution my gaze, taking my eyes away to assess other parts of his body. My eyes roam his long legs clad in dark long pants ridden with little holes here and there. I can tell from a greedy glance, just how developed his leg muscles are.

Oh, Sorah! You read too many novels!

I clap my face on both sides to stop my escalating unpleasant thoughts, hitting my cheeks a bit too loudly and I hear the gruff sound of a grunt. I quit my nonsense and turn stiffly to see him grunting awake and scrunching his face.

He’s awake!

“Um, do you feel any better?” I tender carefully, worrying over his well-being as I stare at the scars and cuts I couldn’t heal properly.

“Do you still hurt anywhere?”

Along with my second inquiry, I don’t notice my hand stretching towards him until a large and rigid hand prevents my move by wrapping around the wrist of my hand.

“Don’t you dare touch me, filthy human woman.”