The One Winged Raven

Part 2

Her heart hammers in her chest at such a speed that she thought she had ran for hours. It brings a sweat to her skin, a gasp to her breath. It's been hours, days, minutes, seconds. She cannot tell. Does it all mean the same thing?

Her body trembles to such a point that Mary thinks she is having some kind of seizure with the franticness of it all. Her knees are protectively drawn to her chest, her arms bound around them tightly. She can feel his gaze upon her, burning into her small figure.

"Mary, please," he begs her. He's still here. He hasn't left her.

Is it still the same day? How did she get here? She told him when they were both downstairs, and now she's upstairs. Is she upstairs still? Does the world still turn as it always has? Does time pass as it always should?

"Talk to me." there he is again. A sob leaves her lips, she leans her head down onto her knees, trying to hide from the monster that would forever run a little too fast for her. She can still feel his breath on her neck, his fingers on her body, ripping her clothes. She can hear their laughter, their sickening laughter, the feeling of their hands keeping her wrists and ankles bound to the floor. The feeling of them changing, one holding, and the other-

She inhales shakily, shaking her head at the memory. It hadn't just been the one man. They had swapped and chopped and changed until the police arrived at the Valois mansion. Had they been cought? Would she be looking behind her shoulder for them, every single day of their lives?

She cannot. Her throat hurts from use and disuse. How could this happen? How could things like this happen? How could things like this still happen?

Mary whimpers as his footsteps get closer to her. She can hear his gasp, the shuddering gasp that told her that he was near tears himself. Mary beat him to it, tears sliding down her own face, wetting the grey joggers she wore.

He wasn't there. Why wasn't he there? He-he didn't have to go to work that day, he didn't have to go in at all. Why were they in France in the first place? They could still be in Scotland, they could have been happy. Instead, they were here.

Her head pulls up quickly, so quick that it startles him. He jumps back as she stares at him. Does he still recognise her as his lawfully wedded wife?

"Why weren't you here?" she gasps. "Why weren't you here?" He had sworn to her upon their wedding day that he would love and protect her until the end of time. The love, yes. But the protection?

He froze. He didn't say anything for many minutes. Neither did she. Was it minutes? Hours? Days? Time didn't make sense anymore. Going so slowly and yet so fast at the same time. How did that make sense?

Mary no longer knew what was real or what was fake. Did he really stand here, blonde curls and blue eyes and all? Or was he a mirage, like the one that had came to her just before she passed out at the hands of those monsters.

What even happened? Did they leave because of the sirens? She didn't remember sirens, but they were gone when she opened her eyes to Catherine shaking her awake. It didn't make sense. She remembered it two different ways. One, they scampered out of the room frantically, out the window. And the other, everything turned black thanks to the hand around her throat. What happened to her?

Mary inhales sharply as the door opens quickly. She sniffles, coughing harshly. It's just Catherine, she realises. Just Catherine.

The Medici blooded businesswoman looks at her for a long time. She speaks, but Mary realises that she speaks to Francis.

"Henry's just gotten off the phone to the police." she reveals.

"What?" Mary chokes, her heart stuttering. "Wh-why?"