Blood Bound

Chapter 17: My tainted hands

My vision is a blur.

I only make out random, vague shapes as I shake my head in both directions. Repeatedly.

"C'mon, we have to do this," I hear the hazy shape of Sophie speak.

"No," I moan feebly as I dully resist Sophie's grip on my shoulders.

She rolls her eyes, stifling a groan. "Where's the brave Leia who threatened a trucker with a knife? Did you kill her?" she asks me in desperation.

I don't want to answer because I simply don't know it. I have no idea where that courage came from but I'm not finding an ounce of it within me at this time. I have no desire to look at the disappointment etched on Sophie's pale face, so my eyes dart in every direction. I know that she needs me but she's asking for a miracle! There's no way that I can kill a raging animated corpse!

"Leia, look at me!" Sophie snaps, grabs my cheeks with her cold hand and forces me to face her. "We're the only ones who can do it. I might be strong enough to face it myself but I'm not sure, which is why I need you, Leia."

Her voice is stern but calm and somehow, sweetly irresistible. Was her voice always like that? It floats gently through my ears and I can feel myself relax just a little bit. My shoulders slacken and my heartbeat slows down considerably. My breathing is even becoming normal. I also feel this compelling urge to meet all her expectations and demands. It pulses through my body like electricity and through this weird fascination, I want to hear her speak once more, so I ask:

"What do you need from me?"

My voice, however, comes out slurred like I'm intoxicated. I should feel concerned but I pay it no heed as Sophie grins and opens her mouth and I get to hear her wonderful voice.

"I will distract the ghoul while you deliver the killing blow with the shovel."

Despite being hypnotized by the lulling sound of her voice, I still manage to frown slightly, scrunching my eyebrows together in worry. A voice in the back of my mind chimes in, telling me that Sophie should do it herself. I can't help but echoing my concerns.

Sophie scowls and looks harder into my eyes, even going as far as removing my glasses. "I'm asking you to do it because I will be busy holding it down. Now, can you do this for me or not?"

While the voice of reason harshly protests the idea, deep down the longing to be needed by someone is stronger and easily overcomes my own logic. She's asking me, the weak, little me of this favour and I just cannot decline it.

"Yes," I concede sluggishly and raise the shovel to show her that I'm ready.

Sophie grins and finally releases me. 2Good," she nods approvingly. She takes a deep breath, cracks her neck and knuckles, flexing them carefully.

I wonder if I should do the same but I've always disliked cracking my joints so I think better of it. I should be amazed that my panic attack has subsided and almost disappeared completely, but weirdly, I'm not. The voice of reason demands to know the answer but my brain and my body are too focused on pleasing Sophie. It doesn't feel right, I know so, but this intense feeling of satisfaction of being needed won't go away and to be honest, I'm perfectly content with that.

Sophie approaches the alley corner slowly and I follow behind her. She keeps glancing behind at me with a contented grin plastered on her face and ripples of joy course through me like waves.

The rummaging in trash cans grows louder the closer we approach and I can detect indistinct growls and horrible cracking, like someone breaking bones. My body tenses up instinctively, the hairs on my arms bristle with fear and anticipation. Sophie turns to me and mouths, "Ready?"