Stories From VO1.2

Stella

Stella was scared. The hospital was burning down. She was stuck. Trapped. Curled in a corner of the room with her head between her knees while thick, black tentacles of smoke crawled under the door. It looked like the black clouds were rising from the ground intent on grabbing her and dragging her down with it when it finally fell to the floor. Right now  though it was reaching, creeping towards her slowly. It was looking for someone, her, to grab and choke. 

Stella could only cry. 

There had been shooting about an hour or two ago. It was purely instinct that saved Stella's life. 

Stella's room was located at the end of the hall so she was woken by the loud gunshots and louder screams. Her heart a pair of hummingbird wings Stella crawled into the bathroom cabinet, almost couldn't close the door, and stopped breathing just when the people with the guns burst into her room.

She could hear everything. They ripped off her bedding, threw open her closet, and pulled down the shower curtain. The shower rod came with it, banging on the sink. The vibration carried down the piping that was pressed against her neck. She almost screamed. 

She did jump but her breath caught in her throat. There was no choking but there was also no breathing. That one moment was probably what saved her life. Stella managed to catch both her breath and her scream, sobbing silently as the men wondered where she could have gotten off to. 

Not one of them - it sounded like three - bothered to check the bathroom cabinet. They more than likely thought no one could fit in the one door cabinet. It was small, actually it was tiny perhaps bordering on minuscule, but Stella was smaller and tinier. She had always been small and being sick divided her in half. She hadn't yet reached the phase where her health began to come back. Everything about her was skin and bones albeit a bit  healthier and although her limbs were long she could fold them just enough to squeeze herself into the small space.

She wasn't new to hiding in cabinets. At least this one didn't have a leaky faucet like that one at her dad's. Only killers with guns on the outside.  

The fire started after the men left but that didn't matter anymore. 

The gunshots, the hiding. It was more than she could handle. 

Once she was sure the men had left Stella squeezed herself out of the hiding space. Pins and needles spread down her arms and legs. Sitting on the toilet she allowed a few moments for the blood to circulate back into her stiff joints. 

She started crying again. Loudly this time. If her would be killers were still in the area they would have became her actual killers but they were long gone. Someone had already lit the fire. 

Stella failed to notice the faint smell of smoke immediately. Clogged from her snotty weeping her nose was essentially useless. 

She couldn't understand what had just happened. She didn't understand why those men had come into her room to kill her. Why had they seemingly attacked everyone in her hall? Were they criminals? Was everybody in the hospital dead?

It wasn't until she scrubbed her face, rinsing away the snot and tears, that she looked into the mirror and saw the gentle haze of smoke. In disbelief she turned and exited the bathroom, still a bit paranoid that the men from earlier were still out there waiting on her. The main room was smokier. It was as if someone had thrown a gray filter over Stella's eyes. 

There was a fire. 

Stella ran. Not back into the bathroom but past the bed and round the study table. Trembling she jammed herself into one of the far corners. Hopeless she attempted to fold in on herself like she had in the bathroom. The she cried again.