"A snake has its poison in its teeth, a dog in its tongue, a scorpio in its tail. It's only the humans who have poison in their hearts." - William Shakespeare
The last bell for Thursday's classes rung, and Juliet slung her bag over her shoulder, weaving past the slow-pokes in their seats and swiftly pushing her way out the classroom. The math teacher was pulling some last-minute reminders like an advertisement with the fine print, but she wasn't in any state of mind to care.
The cafeteria down the hall was cordoned off with some caution tape and with a lone security guard, nervously glancing down the hall from each side. Watson paid him no mind, for she wanted nothing to do with the place he guarded ever again. Already had Prescott's deadline expired, now every minute spent outside the safety of the dorm building was a minute in danger.
Speed-walking down the hallway, she reached the main intersection, and got round the corner to the front doors before hastily swinging herself back and out of sight. Juliet pressed herself against the lockers along the wall, suddenly anxious as all hell and desperately easing her thundering heart—
Where the hell did they come from!?
She'd gone thankfully unnoticed by the four hounds laxing in front of the doors. They had their backs turned when she'd walked around the corner, and were hunched down looking at their phones. Looking back the way she came, the hall was being flooded with students, walking with purpose towards the intersection, probably looking forward to spending the rest of the day beyond the confines of the school.
She had to time this right, moreover, place herself to where they couldn't reach her. Ducking her head, she eyed the shadows of those hounds that stretched along the laminate floor, bobbing heads and limbs danced about as the four boys around the corner were jesting with each other. Snarky laughs like rabid hyenas rung from them, it seems someone must've struck comedy gold and got the whole squad laughing. Their jokes didn't matter to Juliet, though. She was more in tune with the passing footsteps of the crowd behind her, cursing herself as a few fast-walking nobodies went ahead and walked round the corner, no doubt alerting the goons.
Here goes.
Placing herself directly behind a group of four walking abreast of each other, Juliet kept her head low and her eyes on the edge of her brow as the gap she entered through closed immediately, and a shield of excited peers surrounded her as they made for the red doors of salvation.
The hounds caught on quick, for not everyone wears their hair in a curled bun on the nape of the neck, nor has a thick-double sided leather jacket like Juliet did, but it was all for naught. They made the mistake of letting the crowd separate them to the sides, and they couldn't reach her from their pressed positions on the walls. Juliet thanked the heavens for a clean getaway and followed the group in front of her as they swung the doors open, to the blissful outside.
Into another group of Prescott's, eyeing the exiting masses from the water fountain a ways from the entrance.
Oh no.
They spotted her almost immediately, with a nod from their group leader they stood and made their way closer, dread swelled in her heart and made her thoughts spill into a maddening symphony of pleadings to run. She clung to the four close to her for as much as they could help, before dashing in front of them, speed-walking as fast as her legs could carry her.
Oh, was she glad she wore sneakers today.
A commotion from behind her made her panic, it seemed that they were closing in faster than she thought, and she briskly skirted down the small flight of steps into the corridor, the gate to the girls' dorms lied on the other end.
Juliet heard the snicker of someone behind her, too close behind her, and felt her eyes widen with fright.
"Just where d'you think you're going?"
She booked it in that instant, fear driving her forwards as the cry of the hounds sounded, footsteps rumbled behind her as they chased her, some hollered and whooped from farther behind, egging on the ones right on her heels.
Not thinking straight, she glanced back and saw for the slightest of seconds the eyes of a boy a few steps behind her. The sheer steadiness in that gaze, like a wolf assured of its next prize, sprung her legs to life, her heart now in overdrive as she bounced out of his reaching arm.
Turning the corner, Juliet didn't have the time to realize she was on a collision course with another person until she slammed into their side, twirling with the momentum and landing hip-first onto the concrete, missing a second lunge by the boy. He halted himself with a planted foot, ready to jump her where she lay, before he locked eyes with whoever Juliet had crashed into. She did the same, looking shocked to see the school's only janitor and maintenance worker, Samuel Taylor, holding a section of damaged metal pipe in one hand, and a half-bucket of white paint in the other, the rest of its contents dripping from the splattered section of his pants and boots.
The thing about Samuel that spooked everyone, even some of the faculty, was that no one knew exactly why a man like him was a janitor, or how he even attained the job. If one were to take a look at Samuel, they would see the exaggerated, toned physique he wielded, for while he walked with a slight limp in his left leg and was always seen hunched, Samuel was very obviously fit and in proper shape, and this was enough to drive crazy rumors about how he maintained his physique despite his sloth-like lifestyle. No one knew much about him, and it was said that only Principal Wells knew of his background enough to consider hiring him. Juliet had heard stories that Mr. Taylor was a veteran living a quiet life, or perhaps an ex-felon, or even maybe just a punished man. Most prominently, was that no one had ever witnessed Samuel become mad, nor frustrated, nor even passive-aggressive. With Samuel, he was a gentle hulk of a man, quiet in conversation and often wearing smiles and happy thoughts.
Samuel was not happy in this present moment.
Whether it was the paint on his only pair of overalls or the fact that he knew why Juliet was being chased, it didn't mean much if the end result was the same. The hounds knew it too, and flung their hoodies over their heads and retreated, dashing around the gate and out of sight.
A hand, covered in a disposable cyan glove, reached down to help her up, and Juliet obliged, growing more nervous about his lack of a smile.
"I, uh—I'm sorry, Samuel."
He looked her in the eye, blinked, then relaxed, he turned his head to the gate and sighed.
"Samuel accepts your apology."
He also talks in second-person. A lot.
"Thanks by the way. For, uh, helping me out there," Watson stammered.
"Samuel does not like it when students try to hurt other students. It reminds Samuel of times before."
Whatever he meant by that, he didn't explain any further. He instead looked down and tut-tut-tutted at the liberal amount of paint now splattered on the walkway.
Seeing no reason to stay, Juliet made to leave, idly rubbing the soreness of her hip when Samuel called to her, "Young Juliet."
"What?"
"Me thinks you should tread carefully now, it's not safe anymore."
It seemed almost redundant and condescending, if one looked at it at face-value. Yet that's the thing about Samuel; he is not one to say something meaningless. He could be aptly described as an enigma sometimes with the way he words things, but when an enigma is giving her a straight, honest answer, it indeed filled Juliet with a kind of discomfort, the same kind she'd been unfortunately feeling a lot during this whole week.
"I will."
Samuel took the long way around the courtyard, towards the janitor's office off to the side of the building, limping his foot to keep the paint from spilling, and with that she turned and quickly strode to the dorm's front doors.
Compared to the cool air outside that tempered the heat of her escape from the hounds, the inside was stuffy, stifling in the jacket she wore. Shedding the thick coat, Juliet pushed past the entry to the second floor, steadying herself from the adrenaline rush.
"Jules—!"
Looking up from the lines in the carpet, Juliet spotted Dana and Alyssa, standing over by the former's dorm room. Dana was waving her over, while Alyssa was hunched, gripping her flip phone like a lifeline.
"Shit's crazy out there, D," Juliet prompted, folding her jacket upon her arm, "I nearly got jumped by a pack of them waiting outside the main building, Samuel stopped them before they got to me."
"Jesus," Dana whispered, "Alyssa and I booked it here once school let out, and we didn't see any of them. Have you seen Stella or Brooke at all?"
"Nah, I didn't see them, why?"
Mutterings caught both their attention, as Alyssa started pacing, her face was knotted into a grimace, tense.
"Alyssa, you good?"
"It's been five minutes, and she's not responding," Anderson replied, bringing up the phone to her ear.
"Who?" asked Juliet.
"Stella," Alyssa held a finger up a second after, beckoning them silent, "Stella? Hello?"
A pause, "Look, Stella—wait-wait-wait, slow down—" brows furrowed together, trying to piece whatever came from the other end, "Wait, what—?"
Alyssa's fingers turned white as she gripped the phone, slightly shaking, "What do you mean, busted open?" Eyes widened to saucers, and the stocky girl looked like she'd watched the world be torn asunder.
"Alyssa, what's wrong?"
Holding up the finger again, "You should head to the nurse, Stella—they wouldn't—"
"Alyssa?" Dana pressed. Juliet gulped.
Ignoring her, Anderson continued, "Have you—Stella, listen, just—" another pause, a gruff of frustration, then, "just get here quick. Don't loop around, they'll likely catch on to you, just move."
Phone tucked away, Alyssa turned to them, "We gotta head down, now," and she sped her way to the stairs, the two behind her in tow.
"The fuck's going on with Stella? Why'd you tell her to head to the nurse?" they asked Alyssa, following her down the steps.
"They got jumped, one of them's hurt. Stella was trying to get to the nurse, but they're indirectly blocking her way to it," with a shove she swung the door open and moved for the dorm entrance, stopping short of going outside, "I told her to get over here as quick as possible, I just hope she'll listen to me."
"Who got hurt, do you know, did she tell you—?"
"I think it was Brooke, but she didn't say who exactly."
"Aw, fuck," Juliet swore, rubbing the back of her neck, fidgeting.
So they waited, with Alyssa looking through the small window of the door out into the dorm's courtyard, waiting for their friends to come from the gate.
Dana impatiently tapped her shoe on the carpet floor, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall as Juliet pulled out her phone, anxious for a text, a call, for anything. The hum of the air conditioner whirred to life, and the air became a bit crispy, enough for Watson to put her jacket back on.
"We should just go out there," Dana eventually muttered, "they'll be coming to us anyways, we should go and meet them halfway."
"No," came Alyssa's sudden reply. The buff girl turned her head from the window, and side-eyed her friends nervously, "We don't need to make it easier for Prescott's henchmen to catch us unprepared, it's too risky for us to go out there."
"Too risky for us? What about Stella and Brooke? For all we know, they could be getting mauled by those bastards right now and we could be helping them!" Dana snipped.
Anderson did not budge, "I'm not risking it. There are too many of them for us either way, and I am not risking either of you over a mere possibility," deep blue eyes now completely turned themselves to the both of them, and the curt tone she gave them left no quarter to press.
It didn't stop them, though.
"Alyssa, with all due respect, I don't like this idea at all," said Juliet.
"I know it's not the best, but it's all we have."
"No, I mean it's just bad. Like, of all the things we could be doing right now, standing here and not trying to help is the worst."
A frown marred Anderson's face, "And what, what are we going to do if we all go out there to help them, and end up gathered in one spot, surrounded, and right where those bastards want us? It's too likely to happen, we cannot let ourselves be lured into this obvious trap."
"That isn't the point," Dana snapped, "I'm saying Stella and Brooke could be getting assaulted by the very same bastards that'll clobber all of us given the chance, and yet you're here telling us we shouldn't help them!"
"You do not—!" Alyssa suddenly bit her tongue, eyeing something over Dana's shoulder. They turned, and saw a lone girl, unknown in name, frozen halfway through the open door to the first floor dorms. With a dissuading gesture, she closed the door and let them be.
"You don't know that," it sounded like Alyssa was pleading to them, but Juliet wasn't sure, "By your logic it's just as likely that they'll be waiting for us to come help, just to gang up on us when we're vulnerable," Alyssa was shaking her head as she spoke, as if reaffirming the truth to herself.
"If you're not going to do it, then I will—" Dana was readying to bust the doors open when Alyssa body-blocked her, locking the cheerleader at the biceps with her hands.
"Dana, please don't do this," Anderson pleaded, it fell on deaf ears as Dana tried to strongarm the bulkier girl out of her way. Despite her own athletic physique, Alyssa held more raw strength than Dana, and it showed as with a growl, the cheerleader snipped, "Alyssa, get the hell out of my way!"
Juliet grew curious at the almost terrified look on Alyssa's face, made worse by the effort to keep her taller friend at bay. Such fright perplexed Watson, and she needed an answer, "Alyssa just…at least tell us why you want to stay, just tell us that—"
Alyssa didn't hear her though, so entangled was she in the brawl that was between her and Dana to notice the question. The two of them teetered to and fro, but it was clear that Alyssa held the upper hand in keeping Ward from pushing her away. Annoyed, the auburnette chose to suddenly yank back with all her might, the forward pressure Alyssa held was used against her and she slipped forwards, careening to the floor—
And landing right on top of Dana, effectively pinning the auburnette on the ground as she too, fell from the sudden change of force. Juliet swore, scurrying and helping pull the two to their feet, placing herself between them to prevent them from going at it again.
"Guys, just quit it, alright, just quit it!"
"We should be helping them, and you fucking know it, Alyssa!" Dana yelled, only kept back by the smaller Watson, "The fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Dana, just let it go—"
"My family was attacked at knifepoint because they were too sentimental, that's what's wrong," Alyssa spat, low and vulnerable, "and you charging headfirst to assured death isn't going to happen if I can stop it," squaring her shoulders, Anderson stood firm, a bastion of the doors, unmovable.
"I'm not letting it happen again," she rasped, a curt finality, a declaration.
"Oh, so letting Stella and Brooke get torn to pieces while you sit here and do fuck all doesn't bother you, but when somebody else tries to go and help them, it suddenly becomes a burden on your conscious?" the angered cheerleader air-quoted, "are you fucking serious right now?"
The bastion's frown deepened, but otherwise she weathered the temper thrown, remaining silent.
"Alyssa, I don't know why the fuck you're so invested in keeping us from helping the same people who introduced you to our group, but I need you to do me the biggest favor right now and get the fuck out of my way. I'm not letting them get hurt because you're too much of a fucking coward to do anything about it," Dana growled, grinning as the statue's eye twitched, insulted.
"You're letting your fears cloud your judgements, I am not listening to your speculation."
"I am fucking worried because my friends are in danger! You just don't seem to grasp that, do you? I guess you just don't fucking care about them, hm? Is that it, Alyssa?"
"I care about you all, even if we've not known each other for long."
"Then what the fuck are you doing!? What the hell happened to sticking together, huh?! Why are you getting in our way—get off me," Juliet tried to keep Dana from edging closer to the door but was roughly pushed aside. Ward was like an electric charge, fiery and trembling from the excessive charge in her veins.
"You're being reckless," the bastion countered.
"You're being a fucking bitch," Dana barked back, and with a huff she stomped towards the obstacle in her way, ready to brawl. Alyssa hunched her shoulders, adjusting her stance to negate the strike sure to come, eyes taking in every flick and twitch of her enraged opponent.
Dana coiled the tension in her heels, ready to pounce on the nuisance in her way when a sudden force struck her side, knocking her off balance, and sending her into the wall. She slumped to the floor, knocked off her high horse.
"STOP, both of you!" With the tension palpable, Juliet pointed her index fingers in both their directions, looking for any sign of a fight. There came none from Alyssa, who eased her posture and frown, looking more forlorn than angry. Dana was the opposite, a fire still burned inside her, yet the oxygen was in short supply, and with a sigh she pushed off the wall and stood still, neither retreating nor advancing.
"Both of you need to calm down," Juliet eyed the two of them sternly, a mother chiding her kids after a bit of roughhousing, "we can't be doing this, no matter the reason why."
"I thought you were on my side," Dana bit, sore in her hip and dignity.
"I'm on neither side of you two," Watson scorned, "not until the both of you quit fighting each other."
"What are you looking at me for?" whether it was coincidence or intentional that Juliet looked to Dana when she spoke, she never clarified.
"Alyssa," Juliet asked flatly, ignoring the scoff opposite to her, "what did you mean by 'again'?
"What?"
"When you said something about your family getting attacked," a slight flinch, barely noticeable, swept the stocky girl as Juliet spoke, "you said something like 'I won't let it happen again.' What did you mean by that?"
Anderson was uncomfortably stiff, eyes darting to the floor and flickering back to their jade green counterparts. Hesitating, Anderson was caught off guard by one of the doors behind her being pushed open. Yet, the momentum was lacking, it arched a foot inwards or so before stopping.
"Is anyone there? Please, I need some help!" a strained voice sounded from the threshold. The three converged, and Alyssa pried the door the rest of the way to reveal Stella, hunched, visibly exhausted and panting. Held up by a single arm, Brooke was leaning onto the smaller ebony brunette, the engineer's head was hung low, obscured as she bobbed with every slight adjustment Stella made to keep her up.
Drops of blood fell from Brooke's obscured face, landing with a splatter on her shoes.
The second floor entrance burst open in a flurry of activity, as five figures funneled through the threshold, one of them being carried by another two with the rest trodding in front. Even after observing the damage, Juliet felt the worry soar when she'd seen Brooke's bloodied nose. It seemed crooked, but Watson couldn't tell if it truly was because of the way the blood caught her attention, shining wet and coating the wounded girl's upper lip. Shaking the comparison out of her head, Juliet fished for her keys and unlocked the door to her room, ushering her friends inside.
Brooke had been floating between knocked the fuck out and barely functioning, and was now currently trying to shrug the lot of them off of her, proving fruitless as her coordination was too misaligned to work.
"Ghuys izs fine, Ah'm fine," the Filipina had a serious nasal inflection in her voice, Juliet imagined it to be caused by the girl's clogged nose. She ravaged the bottom drawer of her closet, shoveling past the few extra towels and extra stuff in the back, she fished the first aid kit out from its resting place, and quickly crawled over to where her wounded friend lay. They had placed Brooke on the floor at the edge of the bed, her head rested on the mattress and was gently angled up to stop the blood flow.
Unzipping the package, she fiddled with the bottle of disinfectant and the cotton balls, dousing the latter with a generous amount of the liquid and reaching a hand to steady Brooke's face.
"Alright, just hold still now, Brooke, this is gonna sting a little bit," the poor girl hadn't the time to realize what was coming before Juliet dabbed the cotton upon the bloody curve of the nose, sparking a cry of pain. In a panic, Brooke tried to curl inwards, yet gentle hands prevented her, whispers of assurance drowned the whimpering, and they coaxed her to stay calm.
Juliet continued, this time invoking just a painful hiss as she switched to small brushstrokes, wiping the blood clear and sanitizing the wound. Once she had cleared the bloody mess, she eyed the prominent red hue that lit up the entirety of the raven-haired girl's nose. She was thankful: it was not cracked, or malformed. There was a gash just between Brooke's eyebrows, where the blood had oozed out and made the damage look far worse than it was. It left the Filipina with a still-intact, but badly swollen nose, red and puffy.
Almost as bad as Rudolph the reindeer, damn.
Watson rummaged for the box of band-aids, and became a bit disturbed at the lack of a box in the kit. The best alternative she had was some gauze, near useless and unable to stick on its own—
"Someone get the tape sitting on my desk," Juliet beckoned, taking the wrapping and tearing it into manageable pieces. Dana was handing the tape to her, but the reporter refrained, "help me put the pieces on."
Gingerly, she took the pieces of tape from her best friend's hand, and carefully placed the makeshift bandage on the bridge of Brooke's nose, securing it with the tape pressed at the gauze's edges. Brooke growled at the pressure, and grimaced through the pain.
"I could'a done it mah'self, yu'know," she indignantly huffed, crossing her arms and trying to curb the subtle sting by frowning it away.
Stella chuckled suddenly, so sudden and carefree against the tense atmosphere, everyone else looked at her like she'd gone mad. This made her chuckle more, "I'm sorry—wheeze—it's just she sounds like fuckin' Squidward, y'know, from that one episode, I can't—"
Chuckles rumbled from all the others. The poor girl did indeed sound like Squidward, probably one clarinet away from living in Bikini Bottom.
"Ah' don't sound like Squidward!" Brooke rasped, sounding comically like an irritated Squidward berating his fellow sponge and star. They couldn't control the jesting, the Filipina made it too easy for them.
"Look, Brooke—heh, that rhymed—I can't control the laws of the universe," Stella joked, grinning wide, "I'm just the messenger, and I'm telling you right now, you sound like you could use a Krabby Patty," she cackled.
"Shtella, shut thuh' fuck up."
"You like Krabby Patties, don't ya Brooke?" and the girls chuckled as Stella joked, "You're not you when you're hungry, Brooke. I'll head on down to the Krusty Krab, and you can eat all the Krabby Patties you want—" laughs passed around as Brooke took the time to sock the joker in the thigh, earning a yelp for her efforts, 'OW—! 'ey, chill, I'm jokin', I'm jokin'!"
This time, Brooke went along with the chortling, rising in a feverish pitch as Stella nursed the impact, choosing to get off her spot on the bed and walk the pain off, biting a curse back.
"She got you good with that one, didn't she?" Juliet teased, giggling as Stella swore colorfully in German.
"Gott im Himmel—you know what, I change my mind, she's more like Patrick with that fuckin' retard strength she's got—" a howling of cackles resounded at the jab, a pained Brooke was in tears from the exertion.
That is, until a sob tore through the merriment, silencing the others near instantly.
Shaky hands muffled the sharp cries of agony, covering the wrenched face and bandage like a shroud. It took a few seconds for a reaction, as the others were stunned by the sudden change in the air. They'd hoped that the jokes and the banter would've perked their poor friend up from her woes. They carefully gathered 'round their friend, and gently pulled her from her spot on the floor, having slipped from the edge of the bed.
Stella wrapped an arm around one shoulder and Juliet did the same for the other, keeping the Filipina righted as she emptied her tears into her lap.
"It's not fair—it's not fucking fair," she choked out, shaking with every sob.
"What's not fair, Brooke?" Stella asked, concerned. None of them looked at Brooke as she wept, out of respect.
"They get to—sniffle—fucking do wha'ever they want, they get to hurt who'ever they want, and I fuckin' hate it," labored breaths reigned for a moment, fighting the swell of sadness that tore her heart, "I can't protect anyone, I can't protect you, I can't protect Kate, I can't protect…Warren," her hands fell from their perch, hot tears coated the palms and gleamed in the light from the window over yonder, the color in Brooke's brown eyes was dimmed by her knit brows. Her head hung low, as if defeated.
"I can't help them. I can't help you. I'm… I can't do anything," she cried, more burning tears rolled down flustered cheeks and converged at the point of her chin, "I'm useless—"
"No, you're not," Stella side-hugged her, "you ain't useless and you know it."
"It doesn't matter," Brooke muttered, like a tired, broken mantra, "it doesn't matter—"
"Yes, it does matter," Stella talked over her, tightening her embrace, "we're all in this together, remember? All of us, even you, we're fighting back because that's what we outta do, it's all we got."
The faint hum of the air conditioning unit outside sputtered off, only the sniffles remained.
"We're in this together, as a team," Stella continued, "Ain't nothing gonna tear us apart like that, we promised ourselves."
Dana and Alyssa, who sat on the floor beside them crisscrossed, glanced at each other for the slightest of moments before ducking away, ashamed.
"We're gonna get that bastard for his crimes, ain't that right, Jules?" Juliet perked her head towards them, "we'll get that fucker, hit 'im right where it hurts, ain't that right?"
"Yeah," Watson replied firmly.
"You see Brooke? All of us gotta fight, or else it'll be for nothing. We can't win if we're all divided."
"…can we even win?" she whispered.
"Of course we can. I know we can. That's the point, Brooke—even if it seems pointless, there's still the ability to try," Taking one hand in hers, Stella held it like a vise, solid and unwavering, "I know I've said it's pointless to be caring to the world, but if we are gonna fight, then we do it for our friends, our dreams."
knock-knock-knock
Five sets of eyes flicked to the door, panicked to the depths of their souls. The impossible plunged the depths of their minds: the hounds had broken into the dorm building and were just beyond their shelter, awaiting the moment of bloodshed. Immediately, everyone sans Brooke was up on their feet, slowly converging themselves towards the wooden shield to the outside world. Perhaps if they perked their ears, they'd hear the snickers of those hounds, lapping blood red tongues on jagged teeth, hungry for their pound of flesh.
Juliet pressed further than the others; it was her room, she'd at least face the devil's party with her dignity. Chances are, they'd taken the time to rob the master key from Samuel somehow, or tear the door down themselves if they grew impatient. Even with the four's combined strength, they couldn't face them outnumbered. It had to be here, in the bottleneck of the threshold, there where numbers couldn't decide the difference between being pummeled to death or standing their ground.
Knock-knock-knock
A shaky hand reached for the knob, gripping the handle but going no further. The endless possibilities of what would tear them apart swam in the mind and manifested itself to chaos, controlled in the realm of space but terrifying in its reach. Juliet looked over her shoulder at the others, all hunched, all looking to the door, all just as scared as she was.
This was where they'd make their stand.
The knob turned, slowly, every crick of the metal spring tightening was all they could hear, until the bolt had retracted the full length, and with a swift tug, Juliet opened the door.
Emerald green eyes, and naturally arched eyebrows greeted her.
It took a second for the lot of them to realize they weren't face to face with assured death, but rather a pensive Victoria Chase, flanked on both sides by her minions, Taylor and Courtney. So caught in their reverie, that no one had anything to say. All were still as statues.
Victoria eyed something beyond Watson, tilting her head ever the slightest.
"That bandage is not going to hold."
Tracing her gaze, they saw what Victoria noticed first, the bandage upon Brooke's nose was already misshaped, the girl was itching the damn thing like mad, and the tape was slowly losing its flimsy grip upon skin and peeling off.
"…yeah," Juliet relented, turning again to eye the unwelcome royal at her door, "we got more though."
"Is that so?"
"Yes," came the firm response.
"I didn't come here just to say, "I told you so," even if I should," Victoria clarified, and with a snap of fingers came the cue for her minions. Taylor tugged the sling around her frame not noticed before, and presented a large bag, with a red cross on a circled white background was placed center of the opening flap, "We're here to help you."
It was enticing to slap Victoria; right there, where the slight curve of the cheek reached from ear to chin, where a fine, pristine concoction of the downright contempt Juliet held for the Queen before her would manifest as a burning handprint and leave them be from her conniving plans. But that satchel, there with the assurance of helping one of her friends in need, it held an offer she couldn't ignore. Juliet could hear the slight commotion as the others beckoned Brooke to stop fiddling with the mangled cloth.
It was obvious, what needed to be done.
"…fine. Only one of you inside, the others stay."
A sigh, like Chase really thought Juliet would let her guard down over a bag of meds, before she ordered Taylor with a nod of the head. Christensen hesitated at the order, but took her stride through the door, letting the Queen and her other companion waited patiently with Juliet outside. The door was shut almost to closed, manned by the reporter standing watch beyond as the rest of her group eased the bloody cloth piece off Brooke's face, tilting the girl's head back on the mattress to keep any blood from dripping again. Taylor slowly walked over, a little driven by apprehensions as the group of peasants eyed her every sleight of hand, slinging the satchel off her shoulder and gently setting it down beside her.
Perhaps they thought she was some devious witch, able to smite them with a flick of the wrist, maybe they were just jealous of how pretty she was, Taylor could only speculate as she got to work, observing the extent of the swelling on the nose. Some mutterings from them picked up in her ears, but she was too focused on the hisses emanating from the wounded girl in her care. Slight brushes of a water-soaked rag ran along bruised flesh and revealed the scope of the damage. It looked like it was tended to a degree of decency, but Taylor needed to be sure.
"Has it been disinfected?" she asked them, hesitantly. She looked to the girl she was most familiar with, Dana, and the auburnette obliged.
"Yeah," Ward answered, "We put the disinfectant on first, then the bandage."
"Alright," Christensen made for the small package of tissues, ripping a piece in two and placing them in Brooke's hands, "go ahead and stuff it in as far as you can."
Heeding her words, the Filipina clotted her nose as the blonde medic fiddled with a proper H-shaped band aid, using a small pair of scissors to cut the piece to fit. Like children gathered round a fire, the girls watched Taylor craft the band aid in her hands, taking the second cut piece of it and layering it upon the first, so that the majority of the adhesive would contact skin.
"Where'd you learn to do that?"
Stella's question gave Taylor pause. The denim blonde glanced at the curious brunette beside her and carefully responded, "My parents. My father works as a nurse at the hospital, and my mother is anemic, so I learned whatever I needed to."
They seemed in awe, like they never thought Taylor was capable of self-thought. It made her feel indignant, yet she remembered that she had not the faintest idea of who they were truly like. As far as she had known, they were supposed to be sniveling freaks that spoke in foreign tongues, with silent brutes like Alyssa who could snap a person in half, to the chattering Nazi-goblin like Stella and the promiscuous slut that Dana was made out to be. Yet, here in the dim light of the dorm room, they seemed just as tired as Taylor was, just as real and ordinary as her own close friends.
Perhaps, they felt the same way.
"Damn, that's cool," Stella interjected with a slight smile, before retracting, "I mean, uhm, for you knowing all that, not for your mom, uh—being anemic."
A lighthearted chuckle, "It's fine, I get it."
With a gentle application of pressure, Taylor eased the modified band aid onto the sensitive area, fitting it snug like a glove and covering the entirety of the bruise. Feeling it herself, Brooke silently marveled at it, muttering a quick, 'thanks,' and pressing the adhesive further, at the protest of her friends.
"…um, Taylor?"
"What?"
Dana hesitated, cautious, "I get why you would help us out, but why—uhm, why is Victoria…?"
"Why is she being helpful instead of being a bitch?"
They succinctly nodded for her to continue, "Well, to be honest with you, I don't exactly know either," and Christensen takes a seat on the foldable chair, "I noticed she'd been acting a little weird since Tuesday, but other than that, it's just been same-old since forever."
They seemed disheartened at the lack of an answer.
"If I had to guess, it's probably because of Max."
The name caught their attention this time, "Max?"
"Yeah, Max. The brunette? Always has that messenger bag on her, a bit of a hipster?"
"The same Max that Kate was with yesterday?" Alyssa asked, trying to recall such memory.
"Yeah, it had to be," Dana suggested, "is she close to Victoria, Taylor?"
"No, she isn't. In fact, I'm sure Vic considers her to be a rival of sorts. But she is Vic's partner in that group project Jefferson's doing. I know that they met together at least once, but that's it."
Gathering thoughts, the subsequent pause lasted a moment before Taylor continued, "It shouldn't have come to this," and she sighed, gathering her stuff and placing it back in the bag.
"What do you mean?" inquired Brooke, her voice less nasally inclined and tolerable.
"Victoria didn't want any of this bloodshed. Sure, we obviously didn't like what Juliet said in that article of hers, but we wouldn't straight-up punch someone in the nose over it," Taylor explained, "In the end, it's all just petty, drama bullshit, and we all know that. I could hardly care less about it all, y'know. But what happened today, I don't like it at all, neither does Victoria and Courtney. I thought Juliet was lying through her teeth, but now, I don't know what to think about Prescott and his mob."
The blonde stood, hoisting the strap upon a shoulder, "There's a rule in the Internationale: one should never instigate violence under any circumstance. If Nathan isn't going to abide by the rules, he might just get kicked out of the club, despite him being the club president."
"I guess we'll see, then," muttered Stella.
With a slight wave and a parting, 'take care,' Taylor pulled the door open, hinting the three outside that she was done. A lively chat was cut short, as Victoria handed a bottle to the more relaxed Watson, with a nod of understanding the Queen and her aides parted ways, walking towards the exit, presumably going out somewhere in town.
Dana and the others gathered their attention to whatever Juliet held in her hands, and the reporter swung the door closed with the hem of her shoe and clutched the bottle close, cradling it like a newborn. A sly smirk wrung her lips as she turned to their curious looks.
"We're gonna end this shitty day on a good note, ladies," she held it by the neck, a wine bottle a good sixteen inches or so in height, its name some kind of expensive title from the vast golden fields of California. It's dark hue hinted at a red wine, something with a promise to make all their troubles ebb away.
"Now, we enjoy the better parts of life!" a chorus of weary cheers followed the mighty declaration, as Juliet set the wine on the table near the couch, opening a nearby drawer in her closet for a couple plastic cups she kept on hand.
A/N - End of second arc, will resume in Part Two