Vicky Genocidal: In Depth

Chapter Sixteen: Hospital Hell

"Dad!" The girl yelled cheerfully, running to her father. He had just gotten home from work, and she was eager to tell him something. The child jumped into her father's embrace, feeling him wrap his arms around her small frame in a big bear hug. She smelled the familiar odor of leather, gasoline and cigarettes radiating off of his jacket. The smell was comforting to her, as it enveloped her in her dad's safe embrace.

"Hey, kiddo!" The man replied with a loving chuckle. "How was school today?"

"It was so fun!" The girl squealed happily, pulling away to show her father what was in her hands. "Look what Jane and I made in art!"

In her hands was a large piece of paper. Etched over it was a large, scribbled drawing of the Eiffel tower, with several purple and red butterflies around it. The man smiled, looking at his daughter with a proud expression.

"Well, well, well! You two make a great team! This looks wonderful, honey!" He picked it up, making a show of admiring it as his daughter giggled gleefully. "We'll have to put this right up on the fridge! I know the perfect spot, too!"

The girl ran after her father as he made his way into the kitchen, watching as he put her scribble on display. She hugged his leg, beaming at him as he ruffled her hair lovingly.

Soon, however, that happy memory left her conscious as a loud, repeated beeping faded into the girl's mind. Her father vanished, and the girl felt herself return to the present time, in which she was currently lying in a cold hospital bed.

"What exactly happened to her?"

"Well, it appears that she has several abrasions on her arms and legs, as well as a huge bump on the back of her head. Her friend said she was thrown down the stairs."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

"Right...well, her face was carved open. Unfortunately, we were too late to sew the cut completely shut, as it was rather deep. It may scar over with proper treatment, but it's too early to tell. As for her skin and hair, well, to be completely honest I have no idea how that happened. I've seen plenty of chemical burns before, but this is unlike anything I've ever witnessed. Frankly I don't even know what was used on her. The cops refused to give me the container, and all the samples we tried came back with different answers. Luckily, I don't think it will impair any of her five senses, though her skin seems to be a lot firmer, and I estimate that it will probably be pretty sensitive for a while. As for her hair, well, it's no more fried than normally bleached hair, so no worries there. Just buy her a lot of strong conditioners, I guess."

As Victoria listened to her aunt's conversation with someone, probably a doctor or nurse, she could feel her consciousness fading back slowly. She wiggled her fingers and toes, attempting to get some feeling back into her body. They were right. Her whole body was sore. It felt like she had just lost a fight with an MMA fighter or something. Her eyes fluttered open, only to be met with the sight of a very disheveled aunt Marge speaking with a tall man in a doctor's uniform, confirming Victoria's former suspicions.

Her chapped, dry lips parted as Victoria tried to find the will to call out for her aunt. However, all that came out was a scratchy, muted exhale. Luckily, that seemed to do the trick as Marge quickly spun around, gasping at the sight of her now awake niece.

"Victoria! Oh, my goodness, you're awake! Thank God!" Marge cried, rushing to throw her arms around Victoria, only to be stopped by the doctor she had been speaking with.

"I'm sorry, Miss Taylor. You'll need to wait until her skin is more healed."

Victoria was still trying to speak, every word coming out in dry exhales. The doctor noticed, grabbing a plastic cup. He then made his way over to the sink, filling the cup with water, dropping a straw in after. Then, he sat on the edge of the bed, gesturing to the cup.

"Here, sip this out of the straw carefully. I'll hold the cup for you." His words were gentle and patient as he held the straw to her lips. She gladly did as he had instructed. Once fully hydrated, Victoria finally managed to form some words.

"Give me a mirror, please." She said, clearing her throat as her voice slowly came back to her.

The doctor and her aunt looked at each other, both looking unsure. The doctor was the first to speak.

"Are you sure, Miss Ross? It may be a lot to process. How about we ease you into that instead? We could-"

"GIVE. ME. A. MIRROR." Victoria found herself roaring, her sore throat making the words come out in harsh, hoarse growls. The doctor quickly stumbled backwards, shocked at the previously timid girl's mood change. Marge stood there, mouth hanging open, her eyes wide with surprise.

It wasn't long before Victoria was given what she had requested. A nurse was rushed into the room, holding a small, rectangular mirror. She handed it to the doctor, who proceeded to hold it up to Victoria's face.

What stared back at the girl was something one would only see in a horror film. Her previously wavy, ashy brown hair was now straight, and frizzed. The ends were fried and matted, and the hair was tinted a light blonde color. Small strands stuck out from every side, making it look like a really bad case of bedhead. Even her eyebrows and eyelashes matched her hair. Her once pale skin was now powder white. Not a single inch of skin was its old color. White had overtaken every inch of her skin. The only places that seemed untouched by white was the skin surrounding her eyes, which was tinted with subtle, pale pinks and reds. It looked like she had cried her eyes out. Her eyes drifted downwards, eyeing her lips.

One side of her face, starting from the corner of her lip and ending just beneath her cheekbone, was a long, jagged, stitched up slice, resembling a half smile, as the other side of her face was untouched. Almost instinctively, she opened her mouth, stretching her jaw open. When she did this, she could see the inside of her mouth through a few of the stitches.

"Oh my God..." She breathed, running her fingers over the cut gingerly.

"Honey..." Her aunt started, holding a hand out to Victoria. "It's really not that-"

The woman abruptly stopped as her niece began to giggle.