Filthy Cloaks / H.S.

Chapter Eight.

Unlike most days, where I'd slowly and reluctantly pull my eyes open while I take my time stretching my body before easing out of bed, I snapped open my eyes with a panic surging through me, sitting up straight and tense. My brunette hair strands stuck to my neck with the coating of sweat on my skin.

I woke up with an uneasy feeling that something had gone wrong, but my mind went blank every time I tried to recall my last memories.

I found myself laying in a hospital gown. I was on a hospital-like bed with a heart monitor attached to me, nothing but white walls, white tables, and white medical tools blinding my eyes. There lingered a chemical hospital smell throughout the air, but something about this place made me feel off.

This wasn't a hospital.

My heart began to race as I frantically searched my surroundings without a thought as to where I was. I was starting to feel the same panicked sensation of trauma that I had on that day of the car crash when I lost both my parents and my memories. It felt like I had amnesia once more because I couldn't recall where I was or what happened before this moment.

I felt worried until I looked down at my knees and caught sight of the recently injured scabs and dried blood on my knees. The dried blood could be seen all the way down to my ankles, and that was when the memories flooded my senses.

Harry.
Niall.
Ace.
That night.
The gunshot.

The sound of the heart monitor watching over my heartbeat was nothing compared to the muffled overcoming sound of my heart thumping from within my ears.

I didn't want to panic though because there was no one here in this makeshift room with me, and I wanted it to stay that way. If I maintained a steady heartbeat, then I'd manage to stay alone in here — desirably so.

So with a hand on my chest, I rested my eyelids for a moment of rest and took slow steady breaths in and out. The slower the heartbeat monitor became, the more relaxed I was.

Wait, was I shot? If the last memory I could access was Harry pulling the trigger at me, then that would suggest I was shot, right?

My thought was interrupted when I heard muffled voices, specifically outside the room I currently resided in. It sounded like Niall speaking, but it came out obscured to my ears since I was far away from the door.

My impulse triggered me to rip off the tapes that connected the heart monitor to my chest, and quietly tip-toe to the door. I leisurely brought my ear as close to the door as possible with my hands resting on it to steady my movement as I listened closely to their words.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry?" Niall asked, faint to my ears. "She didn't react the first time, what says she'll react this time?"

Who is she? Are they talking about me?

Chills ran across my whole body when the voice of the man I feared most could be heard muffled through the door... Harry. "She felt hopeless against three. She was unprepared. In this case, it'll be only one."

"Harry, this is a dangerous bet," Niall noted, his voice hinting at worry.

What was a dangerous bet? What were they planning to do? I began to feel perplexed and more anxious than I first felt before listening in to their conversation behind the door. My mind went to many possible scenarios that I didn't want to entertain.

"Does it matter?" Harry sneered rather harshly as it came off as aggressive and loud even behind the door. "The outcome will give us answers."

Outcome? If Niall said that this could be a dangerous bet then there's a chance that outcome could be truly horrible... And what girl could they be talking about? My mind raced to conclusions that it was me but frankly I didn't want to believe it could be.