Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter five, 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅?
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Stiles's plan was shit. That was the first thing Birdie thought as her back hit the cold, hard floor, a jolt of pain running through her body. She barely had time to catch her breath before Oliver, Stiles's roommate, loomed over her, his eyes wild and unhinged.
"You're lying! You're a liar!" he yelled, his face inches from hers as he shoved her shoulders down. Birdie struggled against his weight, her heart pounding.
"Get this psycho off of me!" she shouted, trying to push him back, her voice edged with a mix of panic and anger.
The commotion quickly drew the attention of the nurses, who were rushing to intervene, their faces a mix of alarm and frustration. Oliver's grip on Birdie tightened as he continued his furious accusations.
"You said they drill holes in your head! You said they're gonna put a hole in my head!" Oliver's voice was frantic, desperation lining every word as he fought against the nurses' efforts to pull him away.
Birdie seized the opportunity, her nimble fingers snaking around Brunski's waist as he grabbed Oliver by the shoulders. With a quick flick of her hand, she slipped his keyring off his belt, concealing it with a smooth motion as Oliver was finally yanked off her. The keys were cold in her grip, and she hid them behind her back, heart racing.
Stiles was at her side in an instant, pulling her to her feet. She clenched her jaw, hiding a smirk as she slipped the keys into his hand, the exchange swift and subtle.
"Third time, Alastair," Brunski growled, glaring at her as he straightened his shirt.
Birdie forced herself to remain calm, blowing out a breath and crossing her arms. "I didn't do shit," she replied, her voice steady but tinged with irritation. She barely held back a smirk as Brunski gave one last suspicious glance before walking away.
Stiles waited until Brunski was out of earshot before turning to her, his brow creased with concern. "You okay? He didn't hurt you too badly, did he?"
Birdie flexed her wrist, the red mark from Oliver's grip starting to bloom. "Your plans suck, Stilinski," she said, her voice dry. "But yeah, I'm fine."
Stiles gave her a sheepish look, scratching the back of his neck. "I swear it sounded better in my head."
Birdie couldn't hold back a slight grin, shaking her head. "Let's just make sure it works." She glanced down the hallway, the adrenaline still rushing through her veins. The keys they'd stolen dangled from Stiles's hand, and for the first time since her vision, they were one step closer to the basement.
