The Queen Of Spades

Chapter 1, Continued, Again

The next day Nada was still gone and I was on edge. I kept seeing shadows out of the corner of my eye and every time the door opened I jumped. It was 2300 hours when the door opened again. I pretended to be asleep and listened to whoever was there, then I heard a familiar voice and opened my eyes ever so slightly, I saw a mess of shaggy blond hair hiding grey eyes and a small scar on his forehead. This was no nurse or doctor, it was one of them, and he was putting something in my IV. In one swift move I put my hand up to my mouth and ripped the IV out. He lunged for me and just like that we were blocking and throwing punches.
"I'm getting really tired of you trying to kill me." I said through clenched teeth.
"Then die when you're supposed to." The man responded.
"Not supposed to die yet b'y." I blocked a punch while landing one in between Mr. Terrorist's ribs. He grabbed a knife from his waistband and slashed at me, cutting my only arm and leaving a deep river of red in its wake. Cursing under my breath, I wished I had one of my knives. I grabbed the hand that had the knife, leaving me defenseless against his other hand, with which he spun me around into a choke hold.
"I'm not sure this is quite how the waltz works." I grunted, debating whether or not to let go of his knife hand so that I could get his other hand off of me. I chose instead to knock his foot out from under him. While he was on the ground I grabbed the knife out of his hand and held it to his throat. Of course at that moment the guards from outside my door came in and saw me on top of a man dressed as a nurse, with a knife to his throat. Why do these things always happen to me? I climbed off of Mr. Terrorist and held my hand up in surrender.
"Oi, he just tried to kill me. Why did it take you so long to get in here."
"She's lying, I just came in to change out her IV bag and she attacked me." Mr. Terrorist lied.
"That is such bull! He put something in that IV bag and then charged me with a knife. Arrest him for attempted murder."
"Me? You were the one with a knife on my throat."
"After you cut me." I spat, holding up my arm. The guards each grabbed one of us and held us apart until police arrived.
"Okay, so you each say that one of you attacked the other. What really happened?" The policeman asked.
"Oi, dumb dumb, why don't you check the security tape or the syringe full of poison. While you're at it, why don't you think about how the Hell I would have a knife in a bloody hospital." I snapped at the officer.
"Watch your tongue young lady." The policeman said sternly.
"Screw this," I said, then turning to Mr. Terrorist, "Ich werde dich und jeden, den du liebst, genauso töten, wie du es mir angetan hast." I hissed in German. (I will kill you and everyone you love just like you did to me.)
"Versuch es, Schlampe, ich wage dich." He whispered. (try it, I dare you.). As they took him from the room I glared and flipped him off. Back in bed yet again, I grabbed my phone and called Nada, she didn't pick up of course, so I mindlessly scrolled through social media, catching up on what happened while I was gone.
"You're late." I said when the door opened again, revealing a five foot eleven man in a grey work suit. "Almost three bloody weeks late Oliver."
Oliver ran his hand over his short brown hair before taking off his sunglasses to reveal one equally brown eye and a deep scar across the place where his other eye should be. "Language." he chastised.
"English." I retorted.
"I know I'm late Maddie, I was in Helena with another case."
"Whatever, can we leave now?"
"Yes, you're cleared to go as soon as your doctor fits you for a prosthetic."
"And when will that be?"
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Absolutely not! I need to leave today. I'm a sitting duck here and you know that."
"Don't raise your voice at me!" He yelled. Then, more calmly, "I am doing everything I can."
"Yeah, well, everything you can do is pretty bloody pathetic because I was just almost killed, not to mention everyone else is dead."
"I should just leave you here, you know that? But I can't, so either you leave tomorrow or you can stay here your full length of time, I pulled a lot of strings to get you out this soon."
"I really hate you sometimes Oliver."
"That's fine, my whole job is to be hated. I brought you some stuff." He held up a backpack that I took eagerly and looked through. Inside was a book, a deck of cards, a pair of earbuds, some snacks, and a change of clothes. I thanked him and put in my earbuds, turning my music up as far as it would go and tuning him out. After about twelve songs or so I found myself drifting off into sleep. I tried to stay awake by playing games on my phone but I couldn't, and eventually my eyes closed and I slept. The warehouse, Luke dying, and the darkness all happened just like before, this time though there was no fire or water. Instead, I walked through a door and found myself in a hall of mirrors, each mirror showing a different picture.

One showed me with my family, another was a picture of me pulling the trigger on a sniper rifle, still another was me in the warehouse beaten and bloody with a tear streaked face, one across from the rest showed me with blue eyes which must belong to Bex and the last one was me in the hospital. The mirrors changed and the different versions of me all stood and walked towards me, each with a hand outstretched. I found myself reaching out to meet their hands, and when our hands met the mirrors all shattered into small slivers on the floor–each showing parts of the different reflections. Then the shards started to lift themselves off the ground—floating—and pieced themselves together into one frame. This made a mirror showing only my reflection but somehow I found it the most terrifying. I decided to look around for the exit and instead found a table with a bunch of different things on it. Walking over to the table, I noted what was on it and committed each object to my memory. A small hand mirror, a key, a baseball bat, and a paint can with a brush on top.

One at a time I picked them up and inspected them. First, the mirror, which showed a version of me I had never seen, a girl in a yellow sundress spinning in the grass without a care in the world. Disgusting. Second, the key, I looked around for a lock to go with it and saw one on a chain that was now covering the mirror. Helpful, maybe. Next, the baseball bat, there was nothing special about it but something told me it could be used to break something if I wanted. Aiden’s weapon of choice while undercover. Lastly, the paint can, I opened it and saw that the paint was black. I looked around for something to paint on and saw that the mirror now had a roll of painters tape on the ground beside it. It must be a subconscious message or something right? I thought as I examined the paint brush more closely. Some kind of 'choose what to do with your circumstances'. How cliche could my subconscious be? I mean really?

I picked up all of them and put them next to the mirror. I took the paint and painted over the mirror, then I took the baseball bat and broke the hand mirror. I never got the chance for that life, and I doubt that I would even know how to live like that if I ever did get the chance. I took the key and chain and walked over to the other end of the room and put them on a door labeled memories that I had seen earlier, I put the key in the lock and turned. Then I broke the key in the lock so that it could never come undone and I sat cross legged in the middle of the floor until I woke up.