No Rank

sIcK

Jacy's Point of View

I brought a bucket of water and a rag over to Wendy's room, the idiot decided to take an ice-cold bath and stand outside in the cold with her hair wet. Ugh, I swear. I hear irregular coughing and gagging that followed. "Wendy, you still alive?"

"No, I'm suffocating myself in vomit, this is my zombie soul speaking," she retorted back and threw-up again. "Shit, is that blood? It could be the chicken I had yesterday, come to think of it it did look a bit pink." That's not a good thing! I burst through the doors, "Gah! JACY, learn to knock, I could have been naked!"

"Oh shut up! You've been on the floor since the morning and still haven't moved, now up to your bed." I gently lift her on the bed and dampen the cloth to put on her forehead. I'm pushed out of the way and witness Wendy throwing up what was left of her lunch from 2 days ago.

She groans while putting the cloth back on her forehead, "I feel like my depression is taking over, quick hide all sharp things." She wasn't joking, I call for a clean sweep of her room.

"How long til you rampage?" I hastily begin the search before backup comes.

Silence...chills run all over my body and quickly run out of the room locking it and pressing a black button next to her door. I slide a panel that allows me to see in her room but jump back as I come face to face with Wendy's death stare, she punches the wood door causing a bit to break, I hold the black button for 5 seconds causing a metal layered door to appear. Wendy scream bloody murder and slams all walls, her knuckles are bleeding and you can almost see the bone.

This was the first stage of her rampage, it gets worse, the second stage begins after 5 minutes. The backup had come at a bad time and had to witness Wendy's depressed side of her, the bandages on her arms came off, she had found something sharp and dug it into her skin, blood dripped from her already scarred arm, she lifted her gown to her thighs and cut there too. I watched in agony knowing I had to wait for her to get to stage 5, which is the worse of them all.

Stage three, her anxiety side, she hyperventilates, shaking vigorously, unclenching and clenching her hands, sitting in the corner her eyes scouring every inch of her room. She sobs uncontrollably. Stage four, her insane side, she rolls around in her blood laughing, saying things that aren't in our language, or any language for that matter, they're just sounds put together.

And stage five, the side of her that just stares blankly like there is no soul within her. You can step into the room by now by her cold eyes will follow your every move making you shiver. "It's over. No more rampage, you're fine." I repeat to her as I take out the walkie-talkie, "I need a medic ASAP."

Wendy winced in pain and looked at her arms and thigh, she shook loss of breath and screamed. I looked sadly at her wounds and feel pain on my arms and thigh as well. The medic came running and set her tools next to Wendy, quickly she injected needles on her arms and thigh and began stitching.