A/N:
Hey guys, I'm writing this because of the abominable lack of Virals fanfiction on the Internet. This is set after Exposure, and it does contain some spoilers, so be careful! Please read and review, and I'll upload more! I know this story is kind of cliche but I'll try to make it interesting.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
My eyes fluttered open.
It was too dark for me to see anything, but I could feel the droplets of water running down my face and trickling across my neck and arms. My limbs felt heavy and useless, and my back was pressed against a rough stone wall.
I shifted slightly, and my muscles screamed in pain. I stifled a whimper. It was dark, so dark.
Oh God, where was I?!
I couldn't remember anything. I'd gone to bed the night before - I could clearly visualize changing into my pajamas, setting my alarm for school the next day, and slipping beneath the covers. But I was not at home, I was clearly not at school, and I was terrified.
I tried to open my mouth to speak. My lips were parched, my throat dry and rough as sandpaper. Talking, or making a noise of any kind, simply wasn't going to happen. I felt anger rage through me. If I was where I thought I was, then I couldn't believe this had happened. It had only been a week ago that me and my friends had uncovered a triple kidnapping - well, a single kidnapping, really, because two of the people had faked their own abduction.
My friends were going to freak out. The thought of them - the image of Ben, Hi, and Shelton waking up and realizing I was gone - sent a surge of energy through me. I levered myself upright and pushed away from the wall. I stood up, my head feeling fuzzy. My ankle throbbed.
My eyes had started to adjust to the dark. I was in a cramped room with a low ceiling only a few inches above my head. Water dripped through cracks in the stone walls. The floor was slick with grime. There didn't appear to be a door or entrance of any kind, and there were no windows.
I took a tiny step forward, and immediately regretted it. Spikes of pain shot through my left ankle. My knees rolled forward and I lurched to the ground, feeling like I was going to vomit. My breathing quickened, and I felt myself starting to panic. I'd never felt pain like that, not once in my entire life.
It took a few more seconds before I found the strength to roll over and face the ceiling. There had to be some way in and out of here - a trapdoor, a tunnel, something. It was too dark for me to see anything. As I lay on my back, rivulets of water rolled from the ceiling and across my cheeks. My hair was a sodden, tangled, red mess. The simple act of standing and then collapsing had left me exhausted. Involuntarily, my eyes slid shut.
A blinding white light seeped through my eyelids. Sputtering, I opened my heavy eyes. Someone was shining a flashlight in my face.
"Wha…" was all I could manage.
The flashlight beam moved, and I blinked, purple spots flashing across my vision. The person holding the flashlight set it down in a corner of the room. The next thing I knew, a hand was tangled through my hair, and I was roughly dragged into a sitting position and thrown against the wall.
I gasped for air. My entire body ached.
In the narrow ray of light provided by the flashlight, I could vaguely see the outline of my attacker: relatively short, with buzzed black hair, dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. I saw the outline of a gun holster against his shirt and gulped.
My fear was enough to bring my voice back.
"What do you want with me?" I choked out.
To my horror, he reached out a hand and cupped my chin, his thumb pressing against my jaw. I recoiled, pressing against the wall as hard as I could.
"Oh, sweetheart," my attacker murmured. "You didn't think Detective Hawfield was running the entire Gable network by himself, did you? I heard that you were smart, but maybe not so much."
He slipped his hand into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out a Flip camera.
"I know you haven't been here very long, but I think you're in a good state of mind for a little filming," he sneered, smirking. "Now, come on, sweetheart, smile for the camera. You're prettier when you smile."
I shivered, nearly shaking from disgust. I'd thought Detective Hawfield was bad, but this guy took fear and intimidation to an entirely new level. God, was Charleston overrun with psychopaths?
A red light flickered at the corner of the camera, and he slowly panned the lens over my face. I laced my fingers together, trying to keep my hands from shaking. After about twenty seconds, the red light flicked off. He tucked the camera into his pocket.
"I'll see you later, Miss Brennan," he said, a disturbing smile flashing over the close-set features of his face. "One more thing, before I go: my dear colleague Hawfield offered you a quick, easy way to go. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to extend the same courtesy to you."
He grabbed the flashlight and turned it off. I could see his shadow slipping out of the room, but I didn't know how he'd gotten out or where he was going.
Don't sound so confident. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, too.
Pressing my fingers against my temples, I reached deep into the far recesses of my brain. Clenching my jaw, I waited for a flicker, a spark, something.
Nothing. Nothing came.
I couldn't flare. I couldn't flare I couldn't flare I couldn't flare.
I was going to die, and no one would be able to save me.
&%&%&%
From the second that I woke up, I knew something was gravely wrong.
I could hear voices coming from downstairs. It was seven o'clock in the morning. My parents should have been at work an hour ago. But that wasn't the only strange thing - I could hear Tory's dad's voice, too, and his ditzy girlfriend, Whitney.
What was Dr. Howard doing here? What was Whitney doing here?
Normally, getting out of bed was a long and painful process, sometimes with interventions from my mother, who didn't understand the concept of "sleeping in." Today, though, I scrambled out of bed at top speed and threw on my school uniform without hesitation. Something was not right.
I was so worried that I almost forgot to put my glasses on. By the time I'd gotten them on and made my way down the stairs, the voices had escalated.
"She wouldn't just leave the house in the middle of the night without her phone! I know she wouldn't!"
Dr. Howard's voice, risen almost to a shout. If there was one thing I knew about Tory's dad, it was that he did not shout, or raise his voice at all, for that matter.
I stumbled into the kitchen. My mom dove at me and grabbed me by the shoulders with iron hands.
"Shelton, have you seen Tory?" she demanded. "Seriously, Shelton, answer me. When was the last time you saw Tory?"
My mom's brown eyes were wild with panic, and her cheeks were flushed.
"I...the last time I saw her was at school yesterday. We were going to hang out, but then she said that she had to go straight home. I didn't talk to her after that," I explained.
"Maybe she's meeting a boy," Whitney suggested, causing both of my parents and Dr. Howard to press their hands against their foreheads like they were warding off a headache. "We can't jump to conclusions, Kit. She's probably fine."
"Whitney, you don't understand," Dr. Howard said sharply. "I know that something bad has happened to her. There were these scratch marks on her door, like she'd raked her nails across it. Like she'd been dragged out."
The thought made my stomach turn.
"And you found her phone?" I managed to ask.
Whitney nodded. "She never goes anywhere without it."
I whipped my phone out of my pocket and fired off a quick text to Hi and Ben.
Virals. Outside. Now.
I couldn't be sure that Ben would get my text. As far as I knew, his school started half an hour earlier than ours. He might have already left, but I hoped and prayed that he was still here. A few seconds later, I got two responses.
Why? Hiram.
Coming. Ben.
I looked towards the frantic parents. My mother was trying to console Whitney, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. Dr. Howard and my dad were both on the phone.
"I'm gonna go outside and see if Hi and Ben know what happened to her," I announced to no one in particular. Grabbing my backpack, I threw my feet into my school shoes and raced out the door.
Hi was loitering on the grassy lawn, dressed in his school uniform with the jacket inside out, silk lining exposed. As I watched, Ben opened the door of his house and ambled towards us, dressed in his trademark black shirt and jeans. He was in no particular hurry. I frantically gestured for him to hurry up.
"Whoa, what's going on? Why are you freaking out?" Hi asked. "It is way too early for this."
Ben finally reached us and crossed his arms across his chest. A frown creased his features.
"What's going on?" he demanded in his low voice. He glanced over my shoulder towards Tory's townhouse. "Where's Tory?"
"That's why I texted you," I said, trying to control my growing fear. "She's gone. I woke up this morning, and Dr. Howard and Whitney were in my kitchen. Everybody's freaking out. She just disappeared and left her phone and all her stuff there. And according to Dr. Howard, there are scratches on her bedroom door, like she was clawing at it with her nails."
Hi's eyes turned huge, and he balled up his blazer and tossed it to the ground. "Well, looks like we're not going to school today."
He started to make a beeline for Tory's house. I looked over at Ben.
"You coming?"
His face turned completely blank, like he was hiding a barrage of emotions from us. "Of course I'm coming."
We ran towards Tory's house. In their panic, Dr. Howard and Whitney had left the door unlocked. We sped into the foyer and up two flights of stairs.
Tory's wolfdog, Cooper, sat in the middle of the kitchen, tail upright, howling in distress.
"Shit," Ben muttered. "Shit, shit, shit."
He started to pace around the kitchen. Ben was normally the picture of aloof calmness, but I knew how much he cared about Tory. He was starting to panic.
"Ben." Hi grabbed Ben's shoulders. "We need to search this place before Dr. Howard and Whitney get back. If they found scratch marks on her door, then we can probably find more evidence."
Ben sucked in a deep breath, then ran his fingers through his hair. We turned and bounded up the stairs to the third floor, taking them two at a time.
It was obvious which room was Tory's. The door was thrown open, and from down the hallway I could see the scratches that Dr. Howard had mentioned. They were angled to the left and about a foot long each.
Stepping forward, Hi ran his finger along the scratches.
"Well," he began. "The scratches are angled to the left, which suggests that she was probably dragged...this way."
He pointed down the narrow, dead-end hallway. It was completely barren except for a small skylight on the wall.
Ben pressed his fingers against the scratches on the door. His hands shook. I clenched my jaw, trying to control my anger.
Whoever did this to Tory would pay.
Hi had stepped down the small hallway. He was squinting at the skylight.
"This is the only way the kidnapper could have gotten her out."
"We need to flare." Ben's voice echoed down the hallway from where he was standing in the doorway of Tory's room. "There's probably evidence right here that we can't see."
Hi scowled. "Are you crazy? The police will be here any minute!"
"Which is why we need to flare," Ben snapped. "We can find evidence in seconds that they won't be able to find in days."
Before either of us could say anything, Ben squeezed his eyes shut. When they opened, his irises glowed molten gold.
Hissing curses under my breath, I closed my eyes and reached deep into my brain.
SNAP.
The transition was dreadfully painful, but the result was always worth it. I opened my eyes, my vision sharpening to HD clarity. My ears thrummed, and I could hear Ben's heartbeat, ten feet away, pounding as loudly as a bass drum. A bizarre combination of smells flooded my nostrils - lemon shampoo and wet dog hair and leftover breakfast bacon.
It only took seconds.
"Found something!" Hi crowed. He was standing on his tiptoes, leaning up towards the skylight. I watched as he carefully pulled a thin red filament from the windowsill. It took me a millisecond to identify it as Tory's hair.
I looked closer. There was another scuff mark, and a small hole in the window screen.
"He must have taken her through here," I realized. "But how is that possible? Presumably, she was unconscious or at least semiconscious. Or maybe she was drugged, so she couldn't scream but she could still fight back."
Ben glared at me. Deadly anger flashed across his golden eyes. "Stop talking about her like she's some sort of client. This is Tory. Finding her hair isn't going to help us. We need to get out there, take the wolfdog, and find her."
I was surprised by Ben's sudden outburst. At times, I wasn't sure he was capable of complete sentences, let alone a full speech.
"Ben's right," Hi admitted after a pause. "We know how they got out. Now we just need to find her."
Frantic barks sounded from downstairs. The three of us leaped down the steps and into the kitchen, where Cooper stood, racing around the table in panicked circles.
"Come on, Coop!" Hi shouted, slapping his knees. Coop bounded towards us and nearly tackled me to the ground. I scrambled backwards. Ben stepped forward and hooked his fingers underneath Coop's collar, dragging him out of the house.
"Come on, Coop," Hi said. "We've got a friend to save."
&%&%&%
It felt like years had passed before he came back.
I didn't know if he'd posted the ransom video or not. I didn't know what he was going to do to me. But I was too tired, and too cold, to care.
I wrapped my arms around myself. I couldn't stop shivering, but it wasn't from fear. The water hadn't stopped dripping, and I couldn't manage to dry off. Whatever he'd drugged me with still hadn't fully worn off, and my ankle hurt more than ever. There was no concept of time in this dank cell.
As before, I didn't see how he got in. I just saw the blinding flashlight beam. He was clutching some kind of knife...was that a pizza cutter? I felt sick.
"Nice to see you again, sweetheart," he sneered. "You're looking well."
"Just let me go," I begged. "I won't say anything...I don't know...you don't have to kill me."
FLARE FLARE FLARE FLARE FLARE!
My brain was screaming at me, but I couldn't flare. I'd tried so hard, but I couldn't do it. I was dead - I was going to die a slow and painful death by pizza cutter. My arms shook.
My kidnapper reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe filled with clear liquid.
Lethal injection...that can't be so bad.
He reached over and pushed a clump of sodden hair away from my neck. Before I could struggle, he pushed the tip of the needle into the thin skin over my jugular vein and pressed the plunger.
It only took seconds. My entire body seized. It felt like molten lead had been poured into my veins. I couldn't turn my head, couldn't speak, could only move my eyes and blink. My limbs were frozen.
He patted my head. "This is just so you keep quiet. Hawfield told me that you're a feisty little girl."
My only option left was to flare, but it was like my brain had stopped working as well. I couldn't even find the dark area in the back of my head that held the key to unlocking my changed DNA.
I was paralyzed, helpless, as he flipped me onto my stomach so my back was facing upwards. He pulled out the pizza cutter, and I knew what he was going to do.
The sharp circular blade cut through the fabric of my shirt before digging into my skin. My synapses exploded. I needed to scream, needed to cry out. It hurt so much. I could feel blood running down my side and across my stomach.
After a few agonizing seconds that felt like hours, the blade lifted from my skin. I struggled to breathe. The cut had to be about a foot long, and it was gushing blood. I was going to bleed to death in the dark. I was going to die.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as he brought the blade down again, etching bright red stripes across the skin of my back. My shirt was in shreds, and there was blood everywhere.
I heard him stand. "It should wear off in a few hours. Until next time, Miss Brennan."
&%&%&%
At five o'clock that evening, my mom dragged me home.
It had been a day and a half since Tory had been taken, and we'd had virtually no luck in finding her. Neither had the police. We'd taken Coop out in Ben's car and driven around for hours, but he couldn't manage to track her either.
"Mom!" I begged. "Can you please just let me stay here for 15 more minutes? I think we're on to something!"
"Hiram Moshe Stolowitski," my mother growled. "There is a killer on the loose, and I will not have my bubby outside after five o'clock!"
"UGH." Dramatically throwing my head back, I followed my mother out of Shelton's garage, waving goodbye to Shelton and Ben.
We'd stepped into the kitchen when it all began to go wrong.
My father ran from the family room, his eyes wide. If there was one thing that I knew about Linus Stolowitski, it was that he did not run.
"Hiram," he panted. "It's your friend. Tory."
A rush of adrenaline surged through me. I glanced at the TV, where a breaking news broadcast had interrupted my dad's nightly programming. A nervous-looking man with a bad comb-over stood in front of the camera.
"36 hours ago, 15-year-old Bolton Preparatory Academy student Victoria Brennan was filed as a missing person. Just minutes ago, we received a video clip from the Charleston Police Department. We do not know anything about Victoria Brennan's whereabouts, but this video clip may be the first step to finding her. Viewer discretion is advised."
A black title card filled the screen, with six white words: "This is not a ransom video."
The screen flickered. "No matter how much you pay me, I'm still going to kill her."
My heart seized. Behind me, my parents were clutching each other's hands.
The screen flashed to a blurry scene, filmed with a video camera. It showed a dank, windowless cell. Water trickled from the ceiling and ran down the walls. There was no light except for a flashlight propped in the corner.
An emaciated figure was huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself. I couldn't force myself to believe that it was Tory. The camera zoomed in on her face, and I gasped. Her face was streaked with dirt and blood, and her green eyes held so much fear that she didn't even look like the same person. Her foot was bent in the wrong direction, and it looked like she was having trouble breathing.
The clip ended after a few seconds. Then, a new message flashed across the screen: "Want the body? Provost Dungeon, 12:00 tonight."
My knees nearly collapsed.
No. It had to be a trick. She couldn't be dead. There was no way.
If Tory was dead, I would know. We would know. Coop would know.
I ran out of the house as fast as my legs could carry me. Shelton and Ben were already standing on the lawn. I could feel their fear and anxiety from a mile away.
"We have to find her. We have to go get her, now," Ben growled. "Whatever psychopath has her...I've never seen her look that scared. Never."
"I know, I know," Shelton was tugging on his earlobe so hard that I was afraid it would rip off. "The video said midnight...but he's going to kill her. If we get there before then, we might be able to stop him."
Ben was already reaching for his car keys. Suddenly, a thought occured to me.
"Why isn't she flaring?" I demanded. "She wasn't tied up or anything, if she could flare then she could probably find a way out."
"I don't know, and I don't really care. We just have to get her out of there," Shelton replied, practically diving into the passenger's seat.
We were just pulling out of Ben's driveway when Cooper sprinted across the lawn, leaped off the ground, and hurled himself through the open window, landing on top of me. Sputtering, I pushed the wolfdog off of me. He jumped into the passenger's seat, nearly crushing Shelton.
"He knows where to go," Shelton said. "Ben, just follow the wolfdog. He'll have a better idea of where she is than we will. And, anyways, that ransom video was probably just to lead us and the police off track."
Ben's hands were clenched on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. As we sped across the bridge to Folly Island, I leaned my head back against the seat and tried not to imagine worst-case scenarios.
We'd nearly reached downtown Charleston when Coop began barking madly. Before Shelton or Ben could grab him, he jumped out of the window and started racing down the side of the highway, towards the river.
Ben pulled the car over, cursing, and started to run behind the wolfdog. He was leading us away from Charleston - away from where we were supposed to find Tory.
Wherever you're taking us, dog, I thought, she better be there.
&%&%&%
For the second time, I woke up in a completely different place.
I cracked my eyes open, and smelled river water. Instead of cold stone, dirt was pressed against the open wounds on my back. Everything hurt.
With the little energy that I had left, I sat up, pleased when my muscles moved the way they were supposed to.
A shoe slammed into my lower rib cage. My chest exploded in pain, and I heard several cracks. I lay on the ground, struggling to breathe. Dark spots clouded my vision.
"Not so fast, missy," my kidnapper growled. A knife was clutched in his left hand. "Those police officers took my little video much too seriously. I had to improvise. I was hoping this process would take longer, but you're gonna have to work with me, okay?"
I was in too much pain to reply. I couldn't speak, no matter how desperately I wanted to.
Before I could move, he dragged the knife horizontally across the inside of my forearm, near my hand. I gasped, and my ribs contracted so painfully that I nearly passed out. He drew a vertical cut that ran perpendicular to the first one, and then repeated on the other arm.
That was the first time I got a good look at my body. My shoes were gone. My ankle was completely bent in the wrong direction, and my left leg had taken on a dull, fuzzy feeling. Blood was spreading out across the sand from the wounds on my back, and it was running in torrents across my palms. Through a hole in my shirt, I could see dark bruises forming across my rib cage.
I was a mess.
My kidnapper gathered my broken body into his arms and threw me into the river.
&%&%&%
I was losing hope.
Coop had led us down the river for at least a mile, keeping close to the water's edge. There was no sign of Tory.
As I ran, I repeated a mantra to myself over and over again.
Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive.
I glanced behind me. Please be alive. Shelton and Hi were dragging behind, but moving as fast as they could. They'd both lit their flares, but I'd been too panicked to light mine. There was no time now.
Coop stopped so suddenly that I stumbled over my own feet trying to slow down. Before I could stop him, he plunged into the river.
A horrible thought occurred to me.
Please no. Please, please no.
He paused, and I saw him clamp his teeth around something.
Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive.
With a considerable amount of effort, Coop dragged Tory's lifeless body out onto the sand.
She was motionless, and the first thing I noticed was that she was drenched in blood. Her back was a mess of steadily dripping open wounds, and crosses were meticulously cut into the pale skin of her wrists. She was emaciated and her face was covered in bruises. Her eyes were closed, and she shivered violently.
She was alive. She had to be.
&%&%&%
Warm fingers were tapping my cheek.
"Tory?" a voice cut through the fog in my brain. "Tory, can you hear me? Come on, Tory, come on."
Ben. They had found me. I was alive, I was alive, I was alive.
I was so cold. My whole body shook involuntarily. I was terrified to open my eyes. The last two times I'd opened them, it hadn't ended well.
"Is she okay?" another voice demanded. Shelton, which meant that Hi couldn't be far behind.
I cracked an eye open. God, why couldn't I stop shivering?
Ben knelt over me, and I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my cheek. His brown eyes were filled with concern.
"Tory?" he whispered gently. "Tory, can you say something?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a whimper.
Hi stumbled into my line of sight. "Oh, God, we've gotta get her to the hospital."
"No...hospital…" I managed. My first words in who knew how long.
Shelton rolled his eyes. "Tory, you're practically bleeding to death."
Ben pulled off his black sweatshirt and wrapped it around me. Before I could protest, he eased an arm under my shoulders and another under my knees and lifted me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. My resolve completely gone, I slumped against him and buried my face in his chest. I was too weak to cry, but I was so cold.
"It's okay," he murmured. "I've got you, it's okay."
When we finally reached the car, I was attacked by a ninety-pound mass of claws and fur. Coop licked my face and curled up in my lap. He was crushing me, but I didn't care. I was alive, and I was safe.
Ben sped down the highway at lightning speed, and it felt like I'd lost twice my body weight in blood by the time we finally got to the hospital. My wrists were bleeding everywhere, despite my attempts to stop them. I was going to ruin the inside of Ben's car I was barely conscious, and my ribs hurt so badly. My clothes were glued to me with water and blood.
Ben raced over to my side of the car and yanked Coop off of me. My vision was going fuzzy as he carried me into the hospital.
The next thing I remembered, I was lying in a hospital bed and they were trying to stick a needle into me.
No. No no no no no. Absolutely not going to happen.
My fear sent an invigorating rush of energy through me, and I jolted upright into a sitting position, ignoring the burst of pain that my ribs released. The nurse advanced on me, syringe clutched in her hand. I pulled my arm away, remembering clearly what happened the last time someone stuck a needle in me.
"Sweetheart, please calm down, no one's going to hurt you," the nurse cooed.
Sweetheart. It had to be sweetheart.
Not knowing what else to do, I screamed. I screamed and screamed and desperately screamed, praying that someone would hear me. People flew into the room, trying to pin me down. I curled up at the back of the bed, sobbing my eyes out.
"Poor girl," a nurse muttered. "What have they done to her?"
A figure sped into the room, shoving nurses and security guards out of the way. I pushed farther against the headboard. I was leaving a trail of blood on the thin white sheets.
Hands found my face. I couldn't see anything. I was delirious and hungry and cold and my skin felt hot.
"Tory? You have to calm down, okay? No one's gonna hurt you."
I felt Ben's fingers brush the tears away from my cheeks.
"You don't understand," I sobbed. "Please don't let them do this, please."
An alcohol-soaked cotton ball was rubbed against the crook of my elbow.
"No!" I screamed. "Please, please, no!"
My arm was strapped to the hospital bed. I cried and cried and cried. Ben had let go of me, and I had a feeling that security had dragged him out of the room.
The tip of the needle pushed into my skin. A buzzing filled my ears, and the room went oddly silent.
Then, everything went black.
&%&%&%
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Oh, God, I just wanted to fall back asleep.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What was that annoying noise?!
I cracked my eyes open. I was lying in some kind of bed, wrapped in blankets and sheets. My arms were laid on top of the blankets, and an IV line ran through the crook of my left elbow. I could feel a tight bandage around my rib cage.
Blinking, I tried to let my eyes adjust to the dim light. I could see bandages wrapped tightly around my wrists. The more conscious I became, the more my entire body began to hurt.
After getting to the hospital, I couldn't remember anything. There was a massive gap in my brain where that information should have been. It was terribly frustrating; I hated not knowing things.
All of a sudden, it was like an anvil had been slammed down onto my brain. I remembered the past few days with disturbing clarity. If I focused hard enough, I could feel my kidnapper digging through the flesh of my back with that awful knife.
Against my will, my bandaged hands started to shake.
What was happening to me?! I never let myself cry in front of other people. I'd become an expert at putting up a front, pretending nothing was wrong. Sure, I'd been kidnapped and brutally attacked, but crying made me feel so pathetic.
It took me a second to realize that a few figures were slumped in chairs next to my bed - my dad, Ben, Hi, and Shelton. They were all passed out, and Hi was snoring so loudly that I was surprised I hadn't heard it sooner.
Groaning, I attempted to sit up. Despite the compression bandage encasing my chest, my ribs still hurt more than I'd thought physically possible. My hospital room door was cracked open, and piercing white light bled into the room. I slumped against my uncomfortable, flat pillow. Presumably I hadn't eaten in days, and the simple act of waking up had left me exhausted.
Just as I was drifting back to sleep, the door eased open, and a nurse clad in Mickey Mouse scrubs entered the room, a fresh IV bag clutched in her hands. She didn't look much older than me, with wispy brown hair pulled back into a messy bun and elfin features.
"Hey, honey, you're awake," she said, reaching over and quickly switching my empty IV bag with a new one. "I'm Trina, your nurse."
"Hi," I mumbled. "What...what time is it?"
My voice was hoarse and dry. It sounded foreign to me.
"It's about 3 o'clock in the morning," Trina replied kindly. "We've got you under some pretty heavy sedation. I didn't expect you'd wake up so soon, you've only been here about nine hours."
"What day is it?" I couldn't help but ask. I needed to know just how long I'd been trapped in that dank cell.
"Victoria - do you have a nickname? - it's April 4th. You've been gone three days."
My heart dropped. Three days. It had been three days.
The beeping increased on the heart monitor to my left. Trina sped to my side and fiddled with a few tabs and clamps. Involuntarily, I felt my body relax. It took me a few seconds to get my breathing under control.
"What happened? I can't remember anything, just getting here...and then nothing."
"Well," Trina began. "You got here at around six o'clock last night. You were freaking out a bit and suffering from severe blood loss. We had to sedate you, pump about two pints of blood back into you, and then stitch up the cuts on your back and wrists."
"How bad was it? The cuts, I mean?"
Trina pressed her lips together. "I really shouldn't be telling you this. You're in an awfully fragile mental state."
I shook my head. "I need to know. I'm sorry, but I need to know."
Trina fiddled with her hands. I could tell she was wasting time, hoping that I would eventually fall asleep. My head was spinning, but I could not fall asleep. I needed to know.
She sighed. "You had seven twelve-inch vertical cuts on your back, running from the base of your scapula to your tailbone. These cuts were very deep and required an extreme amount of stitches for each. Fortunately, the cuts on your wrist were quite hasty and not as deep. Even the vertical cuts didn't hit any major veins.
"Your ankle was broken in two places, but we were able to set it and wrap it without too much difficulty. You can decide whether you want a hard cast or an air cast, but it will heal much more quickly with the hard cast. You also had four broken ribs, one of which was shattered beyond the point of repair. We had to surgically remove it."
Trina suddenly looked frantic. "Oh, God, I wasn't supposed to say all this to you. That's the doctor's job."
"It's fine, I'll pretend like I don't know anything," I mumbled. "As far as I know, I won't remember anything when I wake up."
My thoughts were fuzzy, but I managed to muster one coherent thought. "Why did you let all my friends in here?"
"Honey, you were in such bad shape - physically and mentally - that we thought it would be good if there were people that you knew around you when you woke up. We're not supposed to do this, but…to be quite honest, none of us have ever seen anything quite like this in our lives."
My cheek sank into the pillow. Trina left without another word, and I drifted off to sleep.
&%&%&%
When I woke up a few hours later, a cool hand was stroking my forehead.
I opened my eyes weakly. Ben was hunched over me, his brown eyes piercing into mine.
"Hey," he whispered, moving his hand away from my face.
"Hey," I mumbled in reply. My voice was shallow and shaky. "Where...what time is it?"
"It's six o'clock in the morning. You've been here twelve hours, and according to your nurse, you woke up for a few minutes last night."
I only had a few shreds of memory of my conversation with Trina. The words that lingered in my mind were few: never seen anything quite like this before in our lives.
I tried to sit up, to no avail. Some of the medication seemed to have worn off, and I yelped in pain as the bandage around my ribs shifted.
"Hey, hey," Ben urged, easing me back down onto the pillow. He pressed the up button on my hospital bed, raising me into a half-sitting position. "Slow down. No offense, but you're kind of a mess right now."
"None taken," I muttered. Squinting, I glanced around the room. It was empty save for Ben, but I could see Kit's lab coat thrown over the couch. "Where is everybody? When I woke up earlier...you guys were all in here."
"Hi's and Shelton's parents dragged them home, and your dad went home to check on Whitney. He said he'd be back as soon as possible."
"God, I hope the police don't come and question me. I don't think I can deal with that."
Ben laced his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand. "I'm sure they will eventually, but not today. About fifteen minutes after we brought you here, the news showed up and the security guards had to throw them out. Everybody's going crazy. The only media coverage in Charleston lately has been about kidnappings."
I laughed bitterly. "The worst part is? The guy that...kidnapped me, it was because of the Gable twins. There was a whole network of guys that were working with Hawfield."
I shivered involuntarily, and Ben tightened his grip on my fingers.
"Don't worry about anything. You're safe now."
"Yeah, I hope so," I whispered.
Trina flew into the room with a fresh IV bag and a paper cup full of pills. Ben let go of my hand and stepped away from my bed. She replaced the bag, then eased the needle out of the crook of my elbow. Clenching my teeth, I tried not to freak out as she pushed a fresh needle through my skin. She flipped a few switches, and a steady drip ran down the plastic tube connecting the bag to my arm.
She walked over to the sink and poured me a plastic cup of water. I swallowed the pills in a giant gulp, trying not to choke.
"Do you want anything to eat?" Ben asked.
I shook my head. I hadn't eaten in days, but I wasn't hungry.
Trina echoed my thoughts. "She can't. The intravenous lines are giving her basic nutrients. She won't be able to keep down any food right now."
She glanced between us one more time, then scurried out of the room.
Ben's phone buzzed, and he reached for it. He swore under his breath.
"Shit, my dad's making me go to school," he growled. "I can't believe this."
"Go, Ben," I whispered. "I'll be fine. You need a break from...this...anyway."
He squeezed my hand. "I just don't want to leave you here alone."
"Please, Ben, you've already done much more than you should have. You saved my life...if you hadn't been there, I would have died."
My eyes were starting to close. I couldn't manage to stay awake for more than a few minutes.
Seeing my exhaustion, Ben lowered my hospital bed and leaned over and kissed my forehead.
"See you later," he whispered. "Your dad brought your phone. Call if you need anything."
A/N:
There's Part 1! I really enjoyed writing this so please read and review!