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Hurt.
Every bone in Grace’s body hurt, every fiber and muscle hurt for the girl in front of her.
They had just met. Her voice was incredible, it was warm. Inviting. When she had sang with her back in the auditorium, it felt like her essence was billowing up, filling every atom in her body. It felt amazing; like nothing she had ever felt before. But now all that joy had plummeted to the bottom of her stomach, filling her with a fear that she cannot describe.
The light and cheer that once filled Calliope’s face had now filtered out. The look of death pure and fresh on her face; blood staining every inch around her now corpse. The once delightful smile on her face, now faded into a slightly gaping maw; lifeless in front of her.
Her ears are ringing, her hands are shaking; they’re covered in Calliope’s blood. Calliope had stumbled into her and Freddie’s apartment, falling to the floor. She’s holding her bloody body in her arms, grasping at her shoulders to someway, somehow bring her back; even though she knows she cannot. She can faintly hear through the piercing ring in her ears, herself hyperventilating. Her heartbeat is in the core of her throat, her stomach is churning; she feels sick. The blood dripping onto the dark wooden boards stains a mahogany red.
Her vision is unfocused as she kneels there, hovering over Calliope’s body as she stares down into her hands, which are covered in blood. Her eyes blur with sorrow and dread, she’s panicking.
Then there’s the gold light that appears. A blinding yellow glow billows up from below her hands and Grace didn’t think she could be more disoriented. An orb of light, of pure energy surrounded by an aura of orange and white. It floats there, slowly and ever so slightly drifting up till it's Infront of her. Her breathing slows a bit as she is bewildered by the sight in front of her; if it was possible to be more afraid and confused than she already is.
“What the fuck..”
As Grace speaks the words out, the orb, the glowing ball, whatever it is, rockets towards her and enters her chest.
One of the first things that Grace notices after the shine had hit her sternum is the abnormal sense of warmth. The heat in her chest spreads to her fingertips and head. The shudder throughout her body when she feels this is different. It’s not a fear more than an outlandish pulse from the top of her spine to her tailbone. An energy that doesn't feel like her own places its boxes down and decorates its home in her flesh.
And the scary part about it is that it feels good.
It moves from her wrists to her neck to the back of her head to behind her eyes. It burns. The sweltering pulse behind her eyes makes her vision tunnel. It blurs and smears. The spots that were already there due to the havoc of hyperventilation gain in size as her vision blacks out completely.
The force of it is too much.
It's too much for her body, her bones, her blood. Every molecule in her body is filled up and overflowing with power. All she can hear is her heartbeat, the ear-piercing ring, and the slowly expanding noise of people screaming. Her joints twitch and shake uncontrollably.
She feels like she’s being possessed, her body does not feel like her own in this moment. She is a thousand people all at once and none at all. She is the blood in a sea of bull sharks. The bird inside of a cat’s jaw. A person staring into the eclipse and burning their retinas. Her blood feels like it's rushing through her like an ocean’s rip current.
She can feel energy expand and expand till it has nowhere left in her body to decorate. Her shoulders tip back as her back arches, not in pain but also not enjoyment. The thrumming against her ribcage beats until it is unbearable and blasts out. It pours out from her skin and rushes everywhere like a dam that was just broken.
It leaks into the cracks and floorboards. It’s the sound of the fridge humming and the squeaks of the chairs. It’s the dripping blood that is still pouring out of Calliope’s gut. It’s the trucks passing out and below. It’s the piercing noise of screams. It may be a mix of herself, but the vocal tones don't match her. It's the voice of a man playing jazz in the 1980s. A sailor angrily calling out orders on his ship in the 1800s. It’s a person humming to sooth their sobbing child. The screams of millions, anyone who has ever suffered, cheered, sobbed in their mother’s arms; every emotion all at once.
Grace’s body tenses and tenses. It’s too much, she can feel herself getting lightheaded. She feels like she’s going to pass out. Her ears are ringing, her senses are overloaded, and her vision is gone, and there’s a dead body in front of her. The scent of blood is fresh in the air.
Then... Everything stops.
The screams in her brain are gone. She cannot feel her own blood anymore, nor the beat of energy behind her eyes. Her vision comes back to her, and all that’s left is Herself, Calliope’s corpse, and her own staggering breath. Grace looks down and sees her palms covered in blood, Calliope, and the mahogany stains below her.
Grace doesn’t know what to do. Her breathing staggers and shakes as she falls into a deep dread. Who should she call? What will Freddie say when she comes home to a blood-stained apartment? The anxiety in her chest jerks as Grace puts her head into her hands, she needs to think.
Think!
What can she-
Then there’s the second thing she notices. The slightly familiar sight of a glow to her left; now a brighter yellow. Grace looks up with teary eyes and bloodstained hands to a bewildering sight. Where the front door would be is now a portal of yellow and orange light, and in front of that, is a person. A Yellow and black outfit, a fanny pack draped across their chest, and ball cap on their head. Their postures shifts as they mumble out,
“Uh... Hey!”