Claire woke up in darkness. No windows, no lights, not even a visible door. The floor was warm beneath her body, but was hard as stone. A constant pounding rhythm in her head kept her from sleeping again, though in any case she didn't want to. Waking up in strange dark places is never a good sign.
She pulled herself up into a sitting position, yanking her borrowed trousers up, then falling back, dizzy. Her head felt like her brain had been round in a blender. She touched her palm to her neck, and it came away wet.
"Crap," she whispered, her voice dry, maybe from screaming.
"Silence, child!" snapped a curt voice from the shadows. "Amelie's little toy is most displeasing." Claire squeaked pathetically, realizing it was Bishop.
"N-no!" she squealed, trying to push herself back up.
"Oh, yes, I do think so. You're dying, child, and there's only one cure." He said maliciously. Wherever they were, it was far away from a hospital. Then it struck Claire like a freight train.
"Amelie wouldn't."
"She will. She loves you far too much for your own good."
"I'm just her – her –" Claire struggled for words "servant! I'm not worth that much to her! She'd let me die."
"She'll be here very soon. We'll see just what she does. Mark my words, child, you'll join us soon enough. You want to like too much. I've tasted it." He hissed. Claire heard his teeth clicking in a malicious grin. Horrible pictures of his face, smeared with her blood, poured through her imagination.
"You're wrong!! You bastard, where's Shane!" Claire screamed. Bishop slapped her across the face, leaving stars shooting across her vision as her head cracked painfully against the floor.
"Insolent child! You think i don't know my own daughter?" he spat, then vanished through the portal in the wall, a darker shape disappearing into a sea of darkness. Or that might have been a mild concussion.
Claire slipped into sleep, letting the darkness take her.
