Someone Competent

Chapter 13: Midnight Meeting

AN: I am such an amazing athlete you guys. My foot healed, so I went back to sporty things. Guess what though, I rolled my other ankle the first day back! Now both of my ankles are sprained.

(Please don't kill me for how late this is. <3 )

Xoxo, Roses
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Panic surges through your veins as you sprint through the hospital. The freezing temperature sends a chill to your bones. The Baroness's blood-curdling screams resonate in your ears, echoing against the bare hallway walls. Hearing her sounds of distress, you pick up your pace. The wind whips your face, and your hair ripples behind you. Your legs burn as you bolt through the seemingly never-ending hallway.

Finally, a door comes into view, cracked open slightly, allowing you to see the sunshine reflecting on the tile floor. You open the door cautiously, listening to the eerie creak of the hinges as you push it forward. Your chest heaves with heavy pants. Lungs begging for oxygen after your exertion. The sunshine blinds you temporarily as you enter the room. You squint against it to better assess the area.

A gasp leaves your throat, shocked by the scene before you. Victoria lies in her hospital bed. Her torn blouse reveals her stab wound. Blood oozes from the injury, painting her torso bright red. Her tear-filled eyes lock onto yours, and she offers her hand to you weakly. As you approach, you get a better view of the bruises decorating her delicate skin. More specifically, the purple handprint wrapped around her throat.

You take her hand into both of yours, gently squeezing it with a soft smile. A whirl of emotions plays in your mind. Each thought overlaps with another as you struggle to understand the situation. Your eyes glaze over as you zone out.

A whisper of your name followed by a wet cough pulls you back to the moment. Your eyes widen in horror as blood drips from Victoria's slightly parted lips. She coughs again, forcing more of the red liquid from her throat. You caress her cheek with watery eyes, gripping her hand tightly.

"It's okay, pretty girl. I'm here for you," you whisper between silent sobs. Her body spasms and her cries of pain flood the room. You wrap your arms around her neck and clutch her head to your chest. Whispering apologies and sweet nothings into her messy brown hair, you attempt to soothe her while her body seizes beneath you. Tears freely flow down your cheeks, landing on her scalp, dampening her greying roots.

Victoria stills, and a loud, uncontrollable sob racks through your body. A weight rests on your chest, as heavy as a boulder, fracturing your lovesick heart. Pain and grief wash over your senses as you hold Victoria's lifeless body. The shattered pieces of your heart puncture your lungs, making it difficult to breathe. You choke on the air, hyperventilating as you writhe in sorrow.

Dark, malicious laughter rings in your eardrums. A veiny hand rests on your left shoulder, and hot air grazes your right ear. You can sense the smirk spreading across the speaker's lips as a familiar voice reaches your ear.

"The queen is dead. Long live the queen," Cruella taunts. She angles her blade and thrusts it into your back, piercing your kidney. Searing pain ignites your body as Cruella twists the knife before removing it. Your lips part to cry out in agony, but no sound leaves your throat. The room around you fades to black as the pain dissipates.

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You jolt awake, gripping the silk sheets under you for stability. Ice-cold sweat clings to your heated skin. Your chest rises and falls rapidly with sporadic breaths. Swallowing harshly, you reach across the bed. Your eyebrows furrow when you feel nothing but the cool blanket beside you.

You glance over to find the Baroness' side of the bed empty and made. The clock on your bedside table reads 12:56 am. Confusion influences your thoughts. Where is Victoria?