Page 56 of Pocus
I’m a monster. And I want blood.
“Prez… please…” Buffy tries to get me to see reason but I’m too far gone. “Prez….”
I go to grab him by the collar and ram my fist into his stomach. He falls to the ground with a howl, and I follow after him. I kneel in the shards of broken glass and keep throwing punch after punch. I need to drown the fucking voices in my head, but they keep getting louder…so I keep hitting harder.
Just then, I hear the only voice in my life that could stop the murderous rampage I am on.
“Pocus!”
Her voice cuts through the echoing voices in my head.Abigail….
She must hate me now that she’s seen me.
A beast.
* * *
Graveyard
What is this rage?
I’ve never seen anything like it.
I’ve never imagined Pocus like this.
He’s like a demon, one that’s being tortured in the deepest pits of hell. I wish I could get close enough to inject him with the syringe in my hand; I’ve pumped it with enough propofol to knock him out instantly. We’ve all tried, but nobody has been able to hold him down or pull him away from poor Buffy, whose life is now only hanging by a thread. Abigail, like the rest of us, looks shocked. She must have heard the commotion all the way from her room. I bet she never expected to walk out on a scene like this.
“Do something,” she cries, turning away from Pocus to look at Seer and me. “Did you hear me? Fucking do something! He’s going to kill him!”
I shrug helplessly. “I’ve tried, but I can’t get close enough to sedate him. Did you see him fling Hemlock across the room just now? I bet Blight is suffering from a grade one concussion from how hard Prez slammed his head against the tabletop.”
I’m ranting. Why the hell am I ranting?
I run a hand through my hair with a ragged sigh. “I…I just need to inject him with this.”
Abigail holds out her hand to me. “Fucking give that to me.”
“We need to be carefu—”
She snatches the syringe from my hand and jumps nimbly over the counter. She grabs Pocus by the shoulder and jerks him away from the unconscious Buffy. He turns on her, and she ducks in time to miss what could have been a fatal blow to the head. He bares his teeth at her and growls like a beast. His usually warm green looks frighteningly dead. His soul is far gone, almost unreachable.
This is not Pocus. He’s not the president that we know.
Abigail kneels in front of him and smiles softly at him. Her deep hazel eyes filled with compassion and…love? Recognition crosses Pocus’ eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. He grabs a shard of a broken bottle, but Abigail is faster. She ducks and jabs the needle into his neck. Pocus groans loudly. His body instantly stiffens and relaxes. He starts to fall to the ground, but Abigail catches him in her arms. She holds him tight against her body and buries her face in his neck.
And then she starts to cry; loud heartbreaking sobs.
I’m quite surprised, but I think I understand to some degree the reason for her tears. She’s crying for Pocus, who seems to be suffering the most right now, and for herself because she’s fallen for a man whose pains she can’t seem to reach. And for the rest of us, who are still shell-shocked by what we just witnessed.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Abby
Atear slides down the corner of his left eye onto the stark white sheet. My heart aches for him. How is it that he has no repose even in sleep? I lean forward and slowly trail my hand over the rugged lines of his handsome face. I wish I knew how to comfort him or share his pains.
His hand suddenly comes up to grab mine, and I gasp in surprise. “Pocus?”
“Are you not scared of me?” he opens his eyes slowly, and his stark green eyes meet mine. My chest clenches painfully at the pain in his eyes. “What if I hurt you?”