𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 | lady lesso

four

When I wake up, it's in a pool of crimson and everything is sticky and wet. Blood. My blood. I don't wake up to my mother's concerned face, or a hospital wing. Just the cold, hard, newly bloodstained floor.

I'm surprised I woke up at all. Lucky me.

I attempt to pull off my clothes. They stick to my body, my hands slick with it. I grab a pair of scissors from my desk and start to cut through the fabric - cringing as the pieces I had spent hours on are destroyed by my own hand. Once I'm done I make my way to the bathroom; leaving a trail of blood. Blood coats my body and I assess the wound. It's deep. Stitches. I need stitches.

This is the problem. I've never stitched myself before. I have others, once (Artie cut himself on a knife because the dogs scared the living shit out of him). But, then again, who's counting? I have to do it if I don't want to bleed out, if I don't want to do it myself I'd have to go to the School for Good. To Professor Dovey.

I look out the window. It's late...way past curfew meaning there's a very high change everyone is sleeping. And if I did go what if I got caught? I don't want to face an angry Lesso right now, and consequently the rumoured Doom Room. Tinnitus or torture seem to be my only sensible options. 

So, you see my predicament. I'm going to try and stitch it myself which surely won't be too hard of I merely think of it as embroidery. I can do this.

I start by washing around the area with cold water before pulling out a needle and silk, aware I shouldn't be doing this, and it is probably the stupidest idea of my life.

I sterilise the needle in the fire.

My hands make quick work of the problem - needle and thread familiar in my fingers. I hold in the feeling of sickness making its way up my throat, threatening to make me hurl. Everything hurts...a lot, even if it's a small movement or the brush of my fingers.

Once I'm done I risk a glance at myself in the mirror. My hair is plastered to my bloodied face, matted and also drenched in blood as the oily feeling drips down my bare back. The crimson also covers my body. Probably cause you fell asleep in it, dumbass.

I groan and started to run a bath. I can't get my stitches wet for 48 hours; I know that much. I also need to cover it but I'll do that after I attempt to clean all this blood off me. Scrubbing the blood from my skin and hair takes forever. My arms ache and the sun is rising but I'm clean. Finally. Today is going to be a long day, chaotic even. I'm too tired for it.

Once I'm done I wrap my torso in a thick bandage.

Suddenly Lesso's voice is in my ear, or rather ringing across the Never school grounds. I tensed at the sound before recognising it as the wake up announcement: "Wake up wretched, things! Breakfast is in half an hour!"

Well she sounds like she's in a fantastic mood. 

It cuts off with a loud buzz and I hastily pull on the simplest outfit I can possibly find. Layers are too difficult today. Putting on my shoes is even more of a nightmare and is accompanied by a sensation similar to my body is splitting in half.

Looking in the mirror I decided to add sunglasses. Who cares if it's not summer? I am, however, extremely grateful for this loose choice of clothing.

I throw my ruined clothes into the fire - watching as it turns to ashes. Leaving my room I notice I'm starving. I missed both of yesterday's meals. And I never really ate breakfast.

Fortunately I make it all the way to the dining hall without incident. Food from the Nevers side looks like vomit, it's revolting. Food shouldn't look like that.

Instead I steal an apple and chopped fruit bowl from the Evers.

Lesso walks in just as I take my seat in an empty corner and she shoots me a glare. She then drags her eyes down my figure. I feel my face heat up. What was that? She glares at me again. If looks could kill I'd be dead right now. I look away as quickly as I can covering my eyes with my glasses, not wanting to look at her disappointed face any longer.

More students file in and stare as I eat. Mostly the Evers because I stole their fruit. I didn't know I was that interesting.
I finish my food and leave. Pretty sure I have uglification first period.

As I continue my journey through the dark, corridors, the sound of a cane and heels follows me.

"How long are you going to follow me for, Lady Lesso?"

"How long are you going to make me, DeVil?" She mimics my tone.

I slow my pace allowing her to catch up. I continue walking with her. She lets me set the pace - noting I'm walking slower than yesterday. She continues with what she was saying. "You didn't show up at mealtimes yesterday. You embarrassed me." She states the obvious, but I'm confused as to why she is embarrassed.

"That's what this is about?" Seriously?

"Yes and I wanted to return this to you." She hands me my sketchbook. "Although, I don't think writing 'your face is too beautiful to draw' to your teacher is entirely appropriate."

"It won't happen again."

She hums in response. "Where were you yesterday."

"Why do you care?" I snap. I don't have patience for her today.

"I don't. As I said earlier you embarrassed me." Her patience seems to be running thin too. I'm going to push you till you break.

"How exactly did I do that?"

"By making my school look weak!" She screams. Her footfalls stop and she slams the cane into my side. Right on the stitches. I let out a groan and stopped in my tracks - clutching my ribs. I double over. I'm going to throw up.

"I'll ask you again." She growls. "Where were-"

I managed to stand up straight again. "If you really must know I passed out from blood loss. For like the whole day. Woke up in my own pool of blood and stitched myself back together. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you to tell me how disappointed you were earlier." I cut her off. She looks at me with wide eyes. I keep my tone calm and clutching my book finish. "Now if you'll excuse me, I don't want to be late for class."

And I stalk off down the corridor. I'm so pissed. Beyond pissed. I banished her from my mind as I entered my first lesson. Uglification. Professor Manley.

How exiting.