Red And Blue (Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska X OC)

Seventeen

personally this chapter gives me 'seventeen' by 'ladytron' vibes

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 "IT WAS GALAVAN!!!" Harley screams at the top of her lungs. Her whole body stiffens and she jolts upright in a hospital bed, her body contorts and convulses from the high voltage of electricity shooting through her, head to toe. Her eyes widen and then the current stops.

She falls flat on her back and closes her eyes, her breathing still fast but beginning to slow down. Her muscles relax and she sighs. Several voices speak around her.

"What did she say?" A feminine one to her left of the bed asks. On the right of the cot a man replies.

"I think...." He pauses, then stutters over his words in disbelief. "I th–think she just said the na–name of the man who killed her." Harley slowly flutters her eyes open. A white ceiling and bright lights shine down on her from above, instantly reminding her of the stage that she died on.

She looks at the two who were speaking. They both have doctor's masks, coats, and hair caps on, as if they were performing some sort of operation or surgery. She sits up a little on her elbows and squints confused at them, her head tilting. She scoots back on the bed not sure of what the strangers were even doing.

Looking down at her body she noticed how she wasn't cut open in any way. Not from possible surgery, not even from the knife she stabbed herself with. On her stomach was a deep scar, but it's closed, and doesn't appear to be from last night like she had remembered.

"She..........she...." The lady tries to say something, but her sentence is successfully finished by the man across from her.

"...remembers." He pulls down his mask to show his mouth hung open in shock. Harley looks farther around the room. Two more hospital workers stood in the back leaning against a blue painted wall. One has a cigarette in between two of their fingers. Something in Harley is triggered. She can feel the small, small, miniscule flame that's been used to light the smoking cigarette at the end of the joint.

Just the smoke is merely enough for her blood rushing in her veins to move in sync with it. Out of fear, and mere animalistic instinct tells her to wave her hand and use the fire to her advantage. She flicks a couple of her fingers and a dousing of flames shoots out the end of the cigarette like a flame thrower would. The person who was holding it is instantly caught on fire and runs out the door in a panic. The other in the back of the room follows them with an extinguisher in a red metal canister.

Chaos breaks out in the small room. The two doctors that were left with her back up to the walls in fear away from the bed. Harley sits up more and flings the blanket off of her to see a hospital gown bunched up around her waist. She pulls it back down and readjusts it. Then she looks to her left to see a table carrying many supplies for an operation.

She jumps to her feet and grabs the small glass of water on it. She spins around and throws the liquid at the male worker, the water turning to ice through the air, and colliding into his body. He freezes in place. The woman whimpers, afraid of being next and puts her hands together through tears. She begs Harley to not kill her.

"Please, please, don't kill me." She mutters between cries. Harley curiously looks at her and slowly walks over. She stops right in front of the petrified woman, backed into a corner with nowhere to run.

"Thank you." Is all Harley says, confusing the lady and allowing her to run out the door while she has the chance. There's still a small fire in the corner of the bland whitish, blue room. Harley uses it, and throws the flames against the bed and the machinery. The white office lighting flickers overhead from the breakage.