Las Vegas, 3:30 AM
Darkness, total and complete, covered her world. The sound of dripping water was all that disturbed the silence. And all she could think was that she must be dead, for if she was not, then her hell had only just begun.
Heather was only dimly aware of the pain in her leg, though she knew it was there. Ironically, it was the pain that made her realize that she was still alive, for there was no pain in death. The thought made her shiver, the movement bringing her back to her senses. And with their return she felt a wave of fear and pain that threatened to drown her.
She was hanging from some unknown structure, her hands bound above her head. The fear she felt was almost tangible and she could taste bile at the back of her throat. The pain was worse. She could feel the arrows still embedded in her thigh, their sharp points poking through her flesh. Her toes just barely missed scraping the ground and she could smell the blood and urine that had pooled beneath her. The front of her pants were damp as well, and she realized with no small amount of shame that she had wet herself in fear, though when she could not say.
A small light flared in the darkness then, drawing her attention and making her wonder why she was still alive. More lights flared before she could even begin to wrestle with that question and a tall, dark figure appeared before her, features obscured by a large black hood. Heather knew immediately who this figure was and she whimpered in fear, tears rolling down her cheeks. But the figure did not move, save to turn its head so that its pale, gleaming eyes met hers.
"Why?" she asked then, her voice raw and shaking. "Why are you doing this to me?"
The harbinger answered her question with one of his own. "Do you want to die?" he asked, his pale eyes still fixed on Heather's terrified face.
"What kind of question is that?" Heather demanded, suddenly forgetting her fear and the fact that she was completely helpless. "How the fuck can you even ask me that after all you've done?"
The harbinger shook his head and repeated the question, "Do you want to die?", his gaze never leaving Heather's face.
"No, of course not." Heather almost screamed. "Of course I don't want to die. What kind of stupid question is that, anyway?"
"One that requires an answer, Heather Chen." the harbinger replied.
"I just gave you a fucking answer." Heather spat. "I told you, I don't want to die."
"That answer is invalid." the harbinger said. "Your death is not optional in this case."
"Then why bother asking the question?" Heather asked. "If my answer doesn't matter, then why take the time to get me to give it?"
"Because you misunderstand the question." the harbinger replied. "The question is not whether or not you will die, but how you want to die. Do you want to die with dignity and honor or do you want to die with nothing?"
"Why does it matter?" Heather asked. "If you're going to kill me anyway, why does it matter how I die?" She paused then, shocked by how calm she was in the face of her imminent demise.
"It matters because the answer you give may spare your friends." the harbinger answered. "If you choose to take the honorable path and die for them, I shall end the game early and let them live. If not, I will kill them first so that you may watch and then I will kill you."
"You think I care what happens to them?" Heather asked. "They're nothing to me. I don't give a shit what you do to them."
"So you claim, but your actions betray your words." the harbinger said. "I saw how you reacted when I killed Katie, how distraught you were and that kind of reaction is only possible if you care deeply for the person you have lost."
Heather did not respond, for she knew he was right. In spite of all her claims to the contrary, she had come to care a great deal for her fellow Total Drama contestants. She would not say that she considered many of them to be true friends, but she did care for them. Still, she wondered if that was enough for her to sacrifice herself for them, not knowing how many of them were even still alive to reap the benefits of that sacrifice.
"How do I know you're not playing me?" she asked then. "How can I be sure that even if I let you kill me now you won't just kill the others later anyway?"
"You can't." the harbinger answered. "You can't be sure. But that is what makes it a sacrifice. That is what makes it an honorable death, a death with dignity."
"Yes, well, as tempting as that sounds, I'm going to have to decline." Heather said. "No deal buddy, no deal."
"You are really willing to leave their lives to fate then?" the harbinger asked. "Because I do not jest. I will kill them all and make you watch."
Heather stared at him, unflinching, before spitting at his feet. "You have my answer." she said, her tone thick with contempt.
The harbinger grinned at that, before backhanding her across the face. Heather's head snapped back from the force of the blow, her teeth snapping together on her tongue. She laughed then, spitting blood on the floor.
"You have my answer." she repeated. "I do not want to die with dignity."
"So be it." the harbinger said, turning to leave.
"Consider this though," Heather called after him. "What if I get to them first? What if I get them out of the city? What will you do then?"
The harbinger turned back towards her, a sinister grin twisting his features. "I will bend the rules of the game." he answered. "But I do not think that will come to pass." With that, he drew a knife from his belt and flung it at Heather, before disappearing into the darkness.
The knife zipped over Heather's head and sliced through the rope that held her above the ground. She collapsed in a heap, her face smacking the filthy pavement with a crack. For a moment she lay there, stunned and dazed, and then her mind kicked into overdrive.
Find the others, she thought. Find the others, if they still live. Find them before he does. She sat up, wiping blood from her lips, and scrambled around for the knife, which she used to cut the bonds that held her hands. She then wrenched the arrows from her thigh and bound the wounds with strips of cloth from a nearby dumpster.
With her own wounds seen to, Heather forced herself to her feet, tucking the knife into her belt. She had lost her shoes at some point, most likely while she had been unconscious, but she didn't care. Only one thing was on her mind now, pushing the fear and pain aside; the desire to find the harbinger before it was too late.
And when I find you, you bastard, I'm going to drive this knife through your black heart, she thought, with a grim smile, before she set off again on her desperate journey.
Las Vegas, 4:15 AM
The silence in the street was deafening. It seemed like an eternity had passed since the shot had rung out, but it had been an hour at most. Bridgette hadn't moved in that time, the shock keeping her rooted to the spot where she knelt. Jo lay in front of her, splayed awkwardly, her gaze staring at nothing. The bullet had torn through Jo's chest and hit the ground just to Bridgette's left, leaving a red ruin in its wake. Bridgette had expected more shots to come, but none had, and she was now too numb to even try and figure out why.
The numbness was complete. Bridgette no longer felt anything. She was no longer aware of her surroundings or even what city she was in. All she was aware of was the body in front of her and the fact that the bullet had been meant for her. She was only now realizing that she was holding Jo's hand and that there were tears running down her cheeks. And with a sudden shock she remembered that LeShawna was there as well, though she could not pinpoint her exact location.
"Bridgette?" LeShawna asked then, her voice coming from somewhere behind the surfer girl. "Bridgette, come on. We have to go."
"Why?" Bridgette asked, her tone dull and lifeless. "Where are we going LeShawna?"
"Anywhere but here." LeShawna answered, moving to stand beside Bridgette.
"But why?" Bridgette asked again. "Why does it matter if we stay here or not? No matter where we go, we're hunted. So why does it matter where we are anymore?"
"Because if we live, it means Jo didn't die for nothing." LeShawna answered.
"You really expect me to believe that bullshit?" Bridgette asked. "That somehow our living makes Jo's death worth it? Or Zoey's? Or Staci's? Or Eva's? You really expect me to believe that any of this matters any more? We're pawns LeShawna, we always have been. Pawns in a sick game that only ends when we're dead."
"God, you sound just like Gwen." LeShawna said, rolling her eyes. "And yes, it does matter. I do expect you to believe that. Because if you don't, you die alone and I'm not willing to let that happen."
Bridgette turned her gaze towards LeShawna then, surprise written on her expression. She had never heard such conviction from LeShawna before and it made her suddenly reconsider all that she had just said. She shook her head and crawled to her feet, LeShawna reaching out to hold her steady. She smiled then, appreciating the help, and then spoke, her tone confident.
"You're right, my friend." she said. "It does matter. Jo died with dignity and if we give up now we will be doing her a great disservice. So we won't give up. We'll live, no matter what it takes. We'll make it out of this thrice cursed city and we will survive."
"Now that's what I like to hear." LeShawna said, grinning in spite of herself.
"Thank you for not losing faith in me." Bridgette said, also smiling.
"It was no problem." LeShawna said. "You're an easy person to believe in."
Bridgette nodded and embraced LeShawna in a hug that made all her fears and doubts melt away. LeShawna returned the gesture, before pulling away, her look serious.
"We should go." she said, her gaze fixed on Bridgette's.
"Right." Bridgette said, with one last glance at Jo. "Let's go. With any luck, Gwen and the others are still alive somewhere."
"Yes, with any luck." LeShawna agreed and the two of them set off, hoping to finally find a way out of their nightmare.
Las Vegas, 4:40 AM
Gwen collapsed against the wall of a building, her breath coming in sharp, painful gasps. Her head was pounding and there was blood on her lips, bubbling up from somewhere inside her. She was certain that all this running wasn't good for her concussion, but it wasn't like she had a choice. The killer had found them at the hospital and she had watched Izzy's heart being ripped from her chest, so Gwen wasn't exactly about to stop. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Courtney and Dawn were still with her, breathing a ragged sigh of relief when she saw that they were.
"Gwen, we need to stop." Dawn said then, from the confines of her wheelchair.
"Can't...stop..." Gwen gasped. "Have to...keep...going."
"You're killing yourself with all this running." Courtney objected. "We need to stop, catch our breath, and get our bearings before we make any more rash moves."
Gwen glared at Courtney, looking like she wanted to argue, but the former C.I.T.'s look was deadly serious and she thought it better not to start an argument over pointless semantics. She did bring up a valid point, however.
"We're sitting ducks out here, you know?" she said, finally seeming to have caught her breath. "Out in the open like this, we're so much easier to find."
"That may be so, but we need to rest." Courtney said. "You're obviously more hurt than you thought you were, judging by the blood you've been coughing up and I can't push Dawn like this forever."
"I understand that." Gwen said, wiping blood from her mouth as she spoke. "And I'm willing to rest for a bit, but we can't just sit around forever either, not after what happened to Izzy."
"Agreed." Courtney said, with a sympathetic smile. "We'll rest here for a few minutes and then we'll be on our way. But you get to push Dawn this time."
Gwen nodded and Dawn laughed, drawing surprised looks from her companions.
"What was that for?" Gwen asked, with a curious glance at the moonchild.
"Just expressing my amusement at the way you two act around each other." Dawn answered. "I always knew you'd be good together."
Gwen laughed at that and Courtney mumbled something about going to find them some water, which brought Gwen's laughter to an abrupt end. But before the goth could argue against anyone going off alone, Courtney pointed out that they needed water and that there was a convenience store just down the street that she would quickly visit. Gwen reluctantly agreed, though she knew in her heart that this was a bad idea.
With that settled, Courtney made her way over to the convenience store, with what little money she had. She returned moments later with three bottles of water, which she passed out to her companions, much to their relief.
"That is the last time you do that." Gwen said, as she cracked open her bottle and took a long, soothing sip. "Thanks for the water, by the way."
"You're welcome." Courtney replied, pointedly ignoring the seriousness in Gwen's tone. She then turned her attention to Dawn and asked, "So, what did you mean when you said Gwen and I would be good together?"
"Just that-" Dawn began, before a hiss from Gwen silenced her.
"Did you hear that?" Gwen asked, her gaze darting between her companions.
"Hear what?" Courtney asked, confused.
"That." Gwen answered, as the sound of muffled footsteps approaching cut though the silence once again.
Courtney froze, her eyes wide with fear and Dawn did her best to hide herself behind the other two. Gwen slowly rose to her feet, her hands clenching into fists and then the figure appeared, making Gwen do a double take.
"Heather?" she breathed, barely daring to believe what she was seeing.
"Gwen?" the figure responded. "You're still alive?"
"Last time I checked." Gwen answered, still not certain that this was real.
"Oh, thank God." Heather said, racing forward and collapsing into Gwen's arms, tears running down her cheeks.
Now up close, Gwen could clearly tell it was Heather she was holding. The queen bee looked like hell and smelled almost as bad. Her clothes were torn and filthy, her feet were bare and bloody and her right thigh was wrapped in bloody strips of cloth that concealed what Gwen could only assume was a gruesome wound.
"Where have you been?" Courtney asked then, her question directed at Heather. "Where are the others who went with you?"
"They're dead." Heather replied, her tone choked with emotion. "I'm the only one left. But we don't have time to discuss this now. He's coming for you and I have to get you out of this city before he gets here."
"Who is coming for us?" Courtney asked, confused again.
"The harbinger." Heather answered. "He's coming to kill you all." And before any of them could ask any more questions, Heather started walking, her demeanor giving them no choice but to follow.
A/N: And that's chapter 8. Sorry for the delay, by the way. I've been busy lately. Anyway, a couple of things to cover here. First, yes Jo is dead (not that that should come as any surprise to anyone who has been reading this from the beginning). Second, the title of this chapter refers to the question the harbinger asked Heather, as well as the fact that Jo sacrificed herself to save Bridgette and Heather has decided to get the others out at all costs, even her own life. And third, we are only two chapters and a short epilogue away from the end of this story and things are going to go down in the final two chapters. So get ready, 'cause the bloody conclusion of A Girl's Night in Hell is almost upon us. Hope you enjoyed. Cheers, KT.
