Blood On Your Hands
Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Cruel Intentions. All rights belong to Roger Kumble and Choderlos de Laclos.
Rating: Adult
Summary: AU. As summer draws to a close a new game in under way. This time however the players have shifted roles and the victim has become the puppet master. The most dangerous enemy of all is the one you never see coming.
Prologue
"Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves" – Confucius
It wasn't suppose to happen like this. Somehow, over the past week or so things managed to slip out of her control. Then again, perhaps she was kidding herself in thinking she ever had any control to begin with. What she was certain about however, was this was not how she imagined her first day of senior year starting. It was suppose to be a fresh start, a new beginning with all her old demons banished forever. Instead there is blood and chaos and screaming.
A siren's wail wakes her out of the stupor she found herself in. Everything comes in and out of focus and she tries to steady herself. Her mind, seemingly becoming more fragile by the second, struggles to make sense of the scene in front of her. There are hoards of students gathered in the parking lot, everyone seemingly talking at once, to each other and into their phones. A few take pictures. Through the mess she can make out three figures huddled on the ground. Even from her spot on the steps overlooking the crowd she can see the blood on the pavement. Her stomach starts to turn.
The ambulance comes to a halt and two EMT's jump out. They push through the assemblage, barking for everyone to stay back. No one really listens. Then the back of the ambulance opens and another pair of EMT's emerge this time with a stretcher. Her knees begin to buckle at the sight and she grabs onto the metal railing beside her for support. She squeezes her eyes shut.
What have you done? What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
She desperately wants to rush forward, find out what is going on, offer assistance, offer an apology, but she knows. She knows what would happen if she insinuates herself into the situation. It will just make everything worse. Logically, she realizes this, but at the same time she has to do something.
The truth of the matter is what she wants to do is runaway. She wants to jump in her car and drive far, far away to a place where none of this matters and she can forget what she's done. However, that's not who she is. She doesn't run from problems. Own your mistakes, learn from them. Isn't that what she always says?
She realized then what she needed to do. Turning abruptly she dashed up the stairs and quickly made her way back to campus. She was literately fighting against the tide as everyone was heading in the opposite direction towards the parking lot. Towards the scene she helped create. As she made her way past the brigade she thought she heard a few people calling out to her, but she ignored them. There was something she had to do.
Somehow she managed to make her way back to Rosemond Chapel. Throwing open the heavy doors, she stepped into the quiet sanctuary. It was empty of course and for that she was entirely grateful. She strode purposefully down the center aisle, the leather of her loafers squeaking nosily against the floor as she cut through the pews that led her to the long line of booths. Pushing aside the velvet curtain, she collapsed inside the wooden confessional. It was blessedly silent.
She tried to remember the last time she'd been to confession, but she couldn't recall. Truth was she hadn't been to church in almost a year and she had stopped believing in any sort of god long before that. Was that where she went wrong? If she hadn't given up her beliefs and allowed her cynicism and need for vengeance take over, could all of this been avoided?
Sagging against the wooden wall she felt tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself as she cried softly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobbed pitifully. "Please let him be alright. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted anyone to get hurt."
Even as she said it she knew it was a lie. She had wanted someone to get hurt, but not like this. Never like this. "Please, please, please," she begged her voice cracking and breaking. "I will do whatever I have to just let him be okay. Let him live."
Her pleas were interrupted when the velvet curtain of the confessional was suddenly and violently thrown open. Looming before her was a very enraged and slightly disheveled Kathryn Merteuil. At barely 5'3 no would could accuse Kathryn of being a physically intimidating figure but in that moment she was absolutely terrifying. Her eyes hard and focused she stood over her dressed in her bloodied school uniform. Her delicate hands were also covered in blood.
"Did you think you could hide from this?" she hissed angrily at her.
"K-Kathryn-
"Save it! Your precious god won't save you this time Hargrove." Stepping into the booth, she advanced on her, her eyes narrowed menacingly at her as she whispered, "No one will."
Author's Note: Alright so this is my attempt at a longer multi-chapter story. I'm no sure if I'm going to continue or not, depends if anyone's interested. Drop me a review, let me know what you think and we'll proceed from there.
As for CLA the next chapter is giving me a few problems so I'm taking a mini break from it but hopefully it will be done in the next couple weeks.
