Dark And Beautiful [ON HOLD]

Chapter Three: The Victim

Chapter Three

I laid there in my bed and waited. Just waited. Waited for it all to make sense. Waited for someone to wake me up and tell me that it had all just been a dream. Even waited to just finally die.

I felt like I was dying. Even though there was no scar where Dess had bit me, my neck still burned with the intensity of a thousand flames. My whole body felt like it was on fire, as if I could burst into ashes at any moment. Dying would have been better than this.

An hour had passed now and I still hadn't moved. Who was I kidding? Of course it didn't make any sense. None of this made sense. That girl ... that {thing} that was in my room earlier ... that wasn't my best friend. That wasn't Desserae. Something was wrong.

I hadn't moved the body of my neighbor; it was still there in my room. I didn't know what to do now. Do I call the police? Or do I call my parents first. Maybe I should just wait here. Maybe if I just waited eventually I'd die and this nightmare would all be over.

My vision was hazy and my head light. I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness. This would be it; I would die here. Nobody would even know what had happened to me. I'd just be that girl on the news that was killed in some tragic accident. No one would know what to make of it. Would they proclaim it murder? Suicide? Both? There would be two dead bodies in here anyway. I could have killed my neighbor and then myself out of guilt. And then people would think I'm crazy. Or they'd take pity on me as the victim of an attack.

It would be all over the news for a few days but then eventually it would die down. The police would search for the murderer but something told me they'd never find her. It. And then even my parents would stop caring.

"Miss! Miss are you alright!"

I turned my head to the side and saw a woman in a paramedics uniform, a worried look in her eyes. Her face blurred in and out of my vision and I barely felt her hand on my shoulder.

"Miss, can you here me!"

Her voice was muffled and I felt my eyelids droop closed. I turned my head away, opening my eyes to glance up at the ceiling before shutting them closed again. This time they stayed that way.

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(third person)

The beep of a machine kept up a constant rate, indicating that the motionless body on the bed was, in fact, still alive despite its appearance.

The nurses had tried to clean and stitch her up as best they could but she was still in a sorry state. There was a cast on her left wrist where it had been broken and several bruises covered her body. Her lip was cracked and cut and small shards of glass had been found in her skin everywhere. There was a particularly large gash starting just above her chin and winding up the right side of her face in a straight, sickly red line. Thirty stitches had been needed to close it up.

A boy stood outside the window of her room, peering through the slits of half-closed blinds at the girl's marred body. He cursed himself for letting this happen; he should have been there to protect her. He should have kept an eye on the man with her friend. He should've been there to save her. At least she was still alive.

He felt his heart prick as two adults slowly entered the girl's room, both hesitating at first before the woman threw herself at the girl in the bed. Immediately, the girls eyes flew open and she began to cry, clutching tightly onto the woman as the man stood behind her, tears in his eyes too as well as his wife's.

He turned away from the little family reunion and walked out of the hospital. He had a man to kill.

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I hugged my mother tightly as she sobbed into my bedsheets, crying about how it was all her fault that they had left me for so long on my own. If only they knew. If they had stayed here, they would have been dead. I was {grateful} that they had been away.

As I lay there helplessly, still sore and too weak to get up, my mother insisted on adhering to my every need. It was all rather overwhelming. The doctor came in at one point and told my parents that I would be good to go home in two nights. Since then, my parents have been hovering over me and watching my every move, doing everything for me despite my protests. I knew they should have been at work right now and I told them that I would be fine on my own, but still they insisted on staying at least a week after I was released from the hospital.

There hadn't been any recent news on the incident and just as I had suspected, no one had managed to track down the killer. They couldn't even find any fingerprints on the shattered glass or the walls. Nothing.

Two nights later, I was released from the hospital. I was glad to finally be home again and went straight for my bed, taking a much needed and welcomed nap.