“Dead on arrival,” the man said. “Crack overdose.”
The man’s voice woke her up. Camilla opened her eyes to the bright lights. Not the sun…a room… white walls, chemical smell. How did I get here? She had been on the street. She remembered the buzz before some weird guys jumped her. This must be a hospital.
“Well look at this…it’s a girl!” a woman said.
“Genius,” Camilla whispered.
“They have her down as a male.”
“Guess paramedics didn’t check,” the woman said.
“They use their time for the live ones. Hard as a rock, full rigor, didn’t need to look for a pulse, and for that to occur at this time of year, she had to be dead at least ten hours.”
“Dead?” Camilla echoed.
“Pretending to be a boy probably helped her survive on the streets,” the woman said, in a caring tone. “She can’t be older than seventeen.”
“I’ll search the clothes for some ID,” the man said. “Maybe we can save the cops some trouble and give her parents some closure.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” the woman said.
“By the liver temp, she’s only been dead a couple of hours.”
“Same as yesterdays?” the man said.
“Is there some new drug on the streets we don’t know about?”
“Hey…a crumpled piece of paper in her pocket. I am…I am…Camilla, name Camilla…can’t read the rest. Guess we can assume her name is Camilla.”
“Camilla,” Camilla whispered. “And I’m not dead.” She tried to pull herself up, but couldn’t. She was restrained. They had tied her? She struggled to focus. The room was cold…she was cold. She still had a buzz from the drug, not strong, but she had never felt such pain before. The pain grew stronger as she struggled to sit. It felt like millions of tiny needles puncturing her body.
“Might be able to match the name to a missing person’s report,” the man said. “Let’s see brown eyes, and I’m guessing those plastered strands of hair are also brown?”
“Light brown. I’ll let you know if I find any birthmarks or scars.”
“I’ll get this out to Paulette. With luck we’ll get a hit.”
“No. I’m…” Camilla said as the woman walked up behind her. Camilla twisted around to see what she was doing and found herself staring down at her body being undressed. Scissors were cutting through her sweatshirt. She was dead. And that was not the worst of it. Hovering in the far corner were four dark forms, people, guys, spirits? They watched her hungrily. They weren’t the same ones from the street. She had to get out of here. Camilla tried to jump from the metal table, but she couldn’t get her butt up.
“Get her,” one of the forms yelled.
Camilla turned on her side and tried to push herself up as the spirits with dark deformed faces headed towards her. Desperate, she tried to roll off the table, but her effort was worthless. They wrapped themselves around her and began to lift her. Camilla screamed. Excruciating pain once again spread through her mind and body. She was being ripped apart. She was dead already. When would this end?
Her screams made no difference. They continued to pull until they got her off the table. As they dragged her away she saw hundreds of threads dangled from her body, or from her, because her body was still on the table, and it too had threads dangling from it. Her spirit was connected by threads? They dragged her away. She tried to fight them off but didn’t have the strength. The last thing she would remember was being on the floor, staring at the ceiling and begging for the pain to end, as they sucked and sucked from her mouth, her forehead, between her legs and every other orifice she had. The pain never ceased, nor eased. She screamed until she blacked out.On the Caribbean island of Maurray, spoiled-rotten, fifteen-year-old Hanna wakes up to a nightmare. She is not the daughter of an aristocrat but the orphan of a Gypsy. She is the descendant to a mystical Gypsy tribe. Their magic is strong and has lasted six hundred years. Ornella, the tribe’s guardian, arrives at the island with her mutt, Count Dracula, to guide Hanna. Hanna is told she must embrace her heritage or die at the ripe age of seventeen. But Hanna does the unthinkable, she chooses death. She hates Gypsies and would rather die. What she doesn’t know is that her death will destroy the entire tribe. What she also doesn’t know is how persuasive Ornella can be. The nightmare begins.
Get her current novel, Veiled Mist, on Amazon
Get her current novel, Veiled Mist, on Amazon
About the Author
Eleanor T Beaty was born in Brazil. She grew up in several places, Argentina, Switzerland, US, and Brazil. She has published in Brazil and Turkey. She has a BA in English literature and currently lives in Brazil with her husband. Check out Veiled Mist on Amazon.