A Recipe for Daphne by Nektaria Anastasiadou (reading well .txt) 📕

as a weapon jutted into my leg, the plastic cap protecting me from its razor sharp blade. It occurred to me that it might be actually useful as a weapon; the knowledge of its presence served as more of a security blanket than anything else. Now I was grateful I had brought it.

Gabriel took advantage of my distraction and landed another flurry of punches to my torso. I swept a low kick to his legs and he stumbled, the weight of his upper body throwing him off balance. I grasped for the scalpel and thumbed the cap off. I didn’t even register the blade slicing into my thumb. Gabriel had already recovered and swung for me in a mad grab, giving me plenty of time to duck. In a split second move I used my left hand to push upwards and felt the cartilage of his nose snap underneath my palm. Predictably he brought his hands to his face in surprise and I thrust the scalpel forward into the soft flesh at the base of his neck.

For a moment it seemed as if nothing had happened. Had I stabbed too low, and hit the thick muscle of the chest? Before I could withdraw my hand, bright red blood started spurting from the wound. George’s life flowed over my hand, warm and wet. I yanked my hand back, the weapon caught in a vice grip. Gabriel swiped at me, George’s left hand trying to grab me around the neck but the movement was so clumsy I just backed away. Arterial blood sprayed the wall one more time and the bleeding slowed to a trickle. George’s lips blew a swath of pink bubbles like some macabre bubble gum. He coughed once and fell.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I stood with the scalpel in my hand, blood dripping to the floor. George’s body lay on the concrete, a pool of blood spreading underneath his massive form. His eyes stared, dull and unblinking. I had killed an innocent man. Hot tears stung my eyes and a keening howl rose in my throat, but I bit it back. I had killed an innocent man. A victim of an evil being hijacking his mind and holding him hostage, forcing him to endure a horrific death. A death at my hand. He was my friend. We didn’t know each other for very long but he was valuable to me. George was my one hope of escape when Gabriel trapped me in that hospital and I had killed him without giving him a chance. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that it was self-defense, the fact that I committed a murder repulsed me. I gagged, spilling a thin string of bile onto the concrete. The scalpel tumbled from my hand and landed on the floor with a delicate clink. When the dry heaves had abated I caught my breath and took stock of the situation. The fight seemed to have gone unnoticed by the rest of the shelter. No doubt any strange noises that made their way down the hallway were dismissed. It wasn’t unusual to hear strange noises these days as the sounds of the sick echoed throughout the shelter.

“Jacob?”

I almost didn’t hear her. The blood was pounding in my ears too hard for anything to make its way through.

“Jac-oh, shit.”

I turned to see Shannon standing in the hallway. Her face had gone stark white. I held up my hands in an attempt to ward her off but thought better of it—they were covered in blood.

“Help me.” I was barely aware that I had spoken out loud. The words were little more than a whisper but they seemed to thunder down the hallway.

“Kick the knife away, Jacob.” I did so, kicking it far behind me. “Do you have any more weapons on you?”

“What…Shannon, you know who he was. You know I wouldn’t have…please…” My hands were starting to shake now. The adrenaline rush of the fight was draining away and it was getting cold, so cold. “No, I don’t have any more weapons on me. Just the scalpel.” She had just come across a murder scene, with the murderer still present. It made sense that she was making sure that I hadn’t lost my mind. Or that someone else had taken it over.

“What the fuck happened?”

“He came for me. He was going to kill me.” I started to cry. Big, blubbering sobs like a little boy. Shannon reached out and touched me on the shoulder gently. “He was my friend, Shannon.”

“I know.”

“He was my friend and I killed him. He didn’t even have a chance to defend himself.”

“I know. Listen. I need you to fall apart later. Right now you need to get the fuck out of here. Leave the body. You’re hurt. You’re going to come inside the infirmary with me and I’m going to patch you up. Then we are marching to Alexander Fang’s room and you are going to tell him exactly what happened. I expect that some time between now and then that someone will discover the body. You are not going to say anything. Do you understand me?”

I nodded, dumbstruck. The chill had given way to numbness. My body felt like a huge weight tugging me downwards. I tried lifting a foot to follow Shannon’s instructions and it was like pulling a dumbbell off the floor with my pinky finger. Shannon grabbed me firmly by the arm.

“Walk forward.” Just like that, the thing that had been my body started working. She pushed open the infirmary doors ahead of us. A few patients peered out from behind the curtains surrounding their beds but retreated quickly. Shannon pointed to the gurney I had been spending my nights on. “Sit down.” Clearly the woman knew how to talk to people in shock. I sat without thinking and awaited further instructions.

“Shirt off.” My arms obeyed and I tossed the soiled clothing to the floor. As I did so it occurred to me that the numbness was