So thanks for all not killing me after yet another cliffhanger! None this time, I promise. The next one should be slightly better though. Enjoy regardless. ;)

Something kicked in. I don't know how my reflexes weren't burned beyond the point of recognition, but somehow I moved the smallest bit and the knife didn't hit my chest.

But it sure as hell didn't miss entirely.

A fresh rip of agony pierced through my arm as the blade protruded from my shoulder. Training with Griffin could not have possibly prepared me for the shear pain that was now throbbing and spreading. I couldn't even hold back the scream that erupted.

The man who had just shoved it through my flesh looked down at my even angrier than he was before. His face was set in a stony wrinkled frown with blazing eyes, and I knew that next time, he wouldn't miss.

"You can't escape this," he breathed, looking down as I writhed and clenched my teeth, trying to think of anything, anything but the pain from the knife that was still embedded in me.

"This is what has to happen," the man said, reaching down for round two.

But I didn't let him get the chance to try again. I jumped without thinking.

I didn't want to be here. It was the last place I would have gone with a conscious mind, but I had jumped here so much it had practically become reflex. That's why you should never jump on such a random impulse unless you want to end up...well, in my case, with Griffin.

I tried jumping again, but I had barely gotten here in the first place. My body was already screaming in pain, and it couldn't take being moved again.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I just collapsed on the floor in a tilted heap. That's why my face is currently pressed against the ground. I'm not really sure though. Everything is getting fuzzy.

My face felt vaguely cold, but the entire rest of my body was burning. I felt a sense of echo encase me, like everything was far away and I was simply getting the reverberations. I think I heard the television, but I couldn't separate my mind from the sounds in the air.

I let my mind slip away as the pain in my shoulder pulsed with my heart. Haze overtook me. Nothing made sense, but there was nothing to make sense of. There were only colors. Reds, and blues, and greens. They swirled and sank and encircled me.

I let my eyes close.

I don't know how long passed until I cracked my eyes open. Comprehension flowed back. And then the pain.

Oh, the pain.

I moved my head the smallest inch and saw the handle of the knife sticking out my shoulder. I winced and looked away. If I thought too hard about it, my head started to swirl and my stomach turn, and the last thing I needed right now was to throw up.

I tried to move. The farthest I got was into a semi-crouching position before the pain in my arm became too much and I collapsed again.

I let my palms hit the floor and the pain from that shot up my arm and intensified in my shoulder. I blinked a few times to get rid of the red that was encroaching on my vision.

"Barbie?"

I couldn't even look up, but quite frankly, I didn't want to see him anyway.

"Shit, you're bleeding all over."

"Hadn't...noticed," I choked, coughing as I tried to speak.

I saw his feet appear next to me and suddenly his face as he craned to look at my shoulder.

"Holy fu...oh...the knife's still there," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Really, Griffin? I hadn't seen that handle you know...as it stuck out from my goddamn arm," I choked once more.

"Someone's hostile when they're in pain," he huffed.

I shot him the angriest look I could muster as I practically tried to keep my head up.

"I didn't know Roland would be there, or I never would left you alone," he said, narrowing his eyes as he examined my shoulder.

I let a sharp hiss of pain out as he pressed down.

"Sorry...you might need a real doctor. I just don't know how we'll explain this," he said strangely.

I felt my consciousness fading again and my body slumped down to the floor.

"Hey, stay awake now," I heard Griffin say, his voice fading in and out.

I can't, I wanted to say. It's too hard.

Nothing came out.

"We need to take out the knife, but I'm afraid I won't be able to stop the bleeding," he said.

I let my eyes slowly close.

"Ella, stay with me."

Sorry, Griffin. That's one thing I can't do.

This time when I woke up, things were clearer than before. Colors were aligned, boundaries stayed together, and the beeping I heard was close and constant.

I looked around at the white walls and machines. He took me to a hospital.

I didn't actually expect Griffin to put too much time or effort into caring too much about my life. I like to be optimistic but Griffin has a way of proving just about positive theory I have wrong.

I smiled slightly as I looked at the IV in my arm. I looked back up though, and a thought struck me again.

He left me here.

I guess it wasn't quite the big surprise, but that doesn't mean a twinge of disappointment didn't hit me.

Twinge...pain...I looked down at my shoulder. It was bandaged heavily, stiff, and sore, but the sting and pulse was gone. Thank you modern medicine. I've never been so grateful to anything in my entire life.

I let my eyes scan around the room. No doctors were in here, so I guess I was stable. I must look like an absolute mess. First, fighting, then rolling around on the ground, and then getting stabbed.

It's been a long day.

I looked out at the window to the right of me. Night was falling now. The bright light reflected off the walls in my room, but the darkness was taking over outside. I couldn't help but feel relief that this day was ending.

As I spent the next few minutes with only my thoughts, I couldn't help but feel lonely. Sure, I was pretty much always alone, but something about laying here made this time feel entirely different.

When you're walking down the crowded street, you feel better about being alone. When you're eating dinner or taking a shower in an apartment, it's okay being alone. Even watching a movie is okay alone. But sitting as you think about one of the hardest days of your life? It feels like a moment where you should have someone, anyone, to talk to.

I fiddled around with my hands. I looked around for the remote, but it was nowhere in sight. I thought about paging a nurse, but because there wasn't really a dire need for it, I decided against it.

I saw a glass of water on the bedside table and began to reach for it, my throat feeling suddenly dry.

I heard the door creak open mid-stretch and I let my eyes turn to it, hoping to see a doctor. But it wasn't one.

Instead, it was a betraying, insensitive, cocky, (life-saving) jerk, who had the audacity to be smiling at me right now.

"Welcome back, Barbie."

...I hated him.