~ Licht ~
I was here only just the other day. The decorations, the crowds, and the lights are gone, but I'm very much still crumpled half-unconscious on the floor of the Karlsbergs' mansion, spotlit by the moon that shines through the window.
I pull myself together, and try to get up, but… I can't. 'Ugh.' The gag over my mouth comes loose, and settles around my shoulders. I cough and try to spit out the taste of cotton. 'Ugh. For crying out loud.'
But why would I even be here…
…The man on my balcony. Taking me, smothering my yells, my breath. Dragging me away. I force myself onto my knees. Was I drugged? It would explain this headache. Or was I poisoned again?
What little progress I've made crumbles, as my legs give way beneath me. My breath stutters. 'D-Don't be ridiculous.' My voice in the huge stillness makes things feel worse. 'Why would anyone try to poison me again — '
Then again — why would someone bring me back here again?
It seems I can't discredit anything anymore.
Chandeliers float overhead. I must be in the entrance. Meaning… that's the front door? I scramble to my feet but trip and fly headlong; the marble scrapes my knees. I look back, at my useless legs. Weakened still further by whatever was done to me. How long have I been unconscious? I start to feel sick. It could have been hours, and they could have done anything —
I look at my hands. Did they do anything to me? I don't… really feel any different. My fingers tremble. I'd notice… if something hurt, wouldn't I?
If they had… if they… what would they have done to me?
I get to my knees. It doesn't matter now. I grit my teeth. All that matters is that I somehow get to my feet and get out those doors. Yet with each attempt, my legs buckle and drop me back to the floor again.
The latest failure sees me crack my head on the marble. Stars spin. When they clear, I see I've only made a few inches. I swear and slam a fist against the ground. Trying not to cry.
I look back at the staircase of the mansion.
And people may even come to help you, especially if they hear screams and think a child is getting hurt.
I could call for help. But would anyone hear me, even if it was just a servant? But still, that's all it would take, to get me out of this nightmare.
I gather my breath. Can I even call loud enough? I grin. I can still outshout Bruno in an argument. Just. This should be easy.
Then my breath snaps out of my lungs, under the gaze of a rifle's sights.
He stands at the stop of the staircase. A length of steel and trigger in his hands, trained on me. 'Stand down and keep quiet.'
Having said the bare minimum, he says nothing more. Do rifles have safety catches? If so, is the catch off? Would he actually shoot me?
I sit in a tangle of legs and shaking hands. Why'd I have to do that? If I was going to be held at gunpoint, at least it would have been more endurable if I hadn't known. Now I'm stuck here, waiting for a bullet in my head. Or leg. Or wherever.
It could be worse, I try to tell myself. But I can't believe that.
Then I realise how it could indeed be worse.
My legs are starting to throb. Panic, as well as pain, grips my stomach. I've recently been put on over a dozen different medications collectively, after I was poisoned. Pain medication. Stabilisers. Pills.
And I haven't had a dose of anything in hours.
The pain's getting worse. I'm feeling worse.
I laugh weakly. …I don't think this is going to end very well.
To be continued…
