Chapter Eight - Plagued
Well, here we go again! D: This will be a somewhat gruesome chapter if all goes according to plan, so hang on. Sorry updates have been far and few between! I have a few questions at the end of this one for you guys about updates, so please stick around for that. It's to help me figure out some future update stuff. c: Anyways, on with the story!
"It is in fact agreed that I am the plague, the cholera of the benevolent and generous men who are interested in art and that, when I show myself with my plasters, even the Emperor of the Sahara would flee."
- Camille Claudel
Marinette's Point of View
My mind is reeling as I ride to the hospital, biting my lip as I make my way to the hospital. Nino sits in the driver's seat beside me, also silent as he thinks. We are both in our own worlds. No doubt he is dwelling on Alya, wondering what has become of her in this horrid game.
As for me? My mind flutters between two things, never letting me dwell on one long enough to truly acquaint myself with the idea.
I never thought I'd be going to see Chloe, of all people, by choice. And in the hospital no less. It's an absolutely crazy concept for me to try and wrap my head around. How on earth did we get to this point? We don't even know if Chloe will even let us visit her, but somehow Nino and I came to the conclusion to try anyways. I'm almost afraid to find out what condition the blonde is in, especially due to the news delivered to the public yesterday.
The fire happened four days ago, and just last night they confirmed the death of Mayor Bourgeois. Nino and I had tried to visit Chloe the following morning of the fire, but the staff forbade any visitors at that time. Now, we're trying again, but there's dread pooling in me.
How is the blonde going to be handling things? Is she going to be alright?
And yet my mind quickly flickers back to the other topic haunting my thoughts. Tikki's dire words from last night come to the forefront of my mind and only serve to worsen the sick feeling in my stomach. I never thought I'd see the poor kwami cry; she has always been so positive and cheerful, encouraging me throughout it all. Somehow, the notion that even she could cry never crossed my mind.
And yet, last night, she wept. She wept for Plagg, a name I had previously never once heard her utter. I was confused, and despite my best efforts, she was inconsolable. Eventually, I managed to at least coax who he was from her, and I suppose I should have guessed it on the mere basis of her not knowing that many people.
Plagg was Chat Noir's kwami, and something had happened to him. Something awful. Tikki wasn't sure what, or she wouldn't tell me, but it was bad enough that she had not stopped crying. As of right now, she was silently weeping in my bag, a fact I was trying so desperately hard to ignore because I had no idea what to do for her.
Or for myself. Because if something had happened to Plagg, what did that mean for Chat? How would he transform? If there was an akuma, would there be any hero to stop it? Perhaps Master Fu could give out one of the other Miraculous, at least temporarily, but the problem would still remain of who would purify it. Besides, who was to say that Master Fu even had a way to know that either of the heroes was missing in action? The risk of retaliation on the Gamemaker's part if he were to find out is too great to take. He somehow managed to learn my identity, or so I assume based off his message; what's to stop him from knowing everything else?
I can't risk letting him know where the other Miraculous are kept either.
So instead, I'm forced to keep dwelling on Tikki's constant anguish. How can I help my friend when I don't even know what's happening to her? It's obvious that she cares for Plagg, perhaps more than she realizes, or at least cares to admit.
"He's hurt! Oh gosh, he's hurt, Marinette, and I can't help!" The wails still ring in my ears, despite my best efforts to drown them out. "I'm his other half. I should be there, help him, but I can't. I don't even know where he is! What if something happens to him? I'll never forgive myself! He's my other half. I can't lose him, I just can't!"
I scream and scramble to recover my balance as I lurch forward, drawn out of my thoughts by Nino smashing his foot down on the brake. "Nino!" My eyes meet his, cutting off any further retort from me.
That's the first thing either of us have spoken since we met up. We hadn't even talked when he arrived at my house and I got in the car. I didn't properly look before, but now that I am, he's an obvious and absolute wreck. In the mess that is this 'game,' I now can see that I forgot I wasn't the only one with problems here. Nino may conceal it better than I can, but even he can't hide it forever. I don't think it's much of a stretch to say he hasn't slept in days, and his hands are shaky as they grip the wheel. His hair is unkempt and matted, and his glasses are fogged up. Heck, even his outfit looks a bit askew, as if he simply rolled out of bed still wearing it.
"I'm sorry." He looks away, his voice unexpectedly hoarse.
"Oh, Nino..." I trail off, also looking away to instead stare at my now fascinating hands, which are folded in my lap. "I'm sorry." This time, I can't even manage to get my voice above a whisper.
It's like we're both walking on eggshells around the other, afraid the glass dam keeping all of our feelings from spilling out will break, and that both of us will be unable to recover.
He doesn't meet my gaze when I decide to face him again, opting to mutter, "I'll be fine. Don't pity me, Marinette."
As the light turns green and he turns into the visitors' parking lot for the hospital, I bite my lip. "You don't have to be strong for my sake."
His hands tighten on the wheel, and I'm a little frightened by the sudden intensity of his voice. "Yes, I do. I have to be strong. For you. For everyone else. Fo-For her..." His voice breaks as he pulls into a spot, and he rests his head on the steering wheel after pulling his keys from the ignition. "What if something's happened to her?"
"I won't let that happen."
This brings his head back up as he turns to scowl at me and spit out, "You can't promise that! You can't promise her safety. No one can! And until all the challenges are said and done, we won't know. We won't know if the Gamemaker kept his word, if any of them are okay! She's a fighter, Mari. What if she's gotten herself killed? I'm helpless to do anything and I've never felt more useless in all my life. How can she love someone who can't even protect her when she's in trouble?"
I flinch at his words, beginning to curl into a ball. "I-I'm sor...sorry...Nino..."
Regaining his temper, Nino's gaze softens. "Gosh, I..." He adjusts his hat and closes his eyes to take a breath. "I'm so sorry, Mari. It's just so hard and...Ugh," He groans, placing his face in his hands, "I know that was awful to say. You miss her too; she's your best friend. I know that. What I said was insensitive. You feel the same way. It's just thinking of her in there, of Adrien in there..." I try not to start panicking at the thought, knowing one of us needs to stay calm even when the person we love is in danger, "Of all of them in there...I don't know how to handle the fact that we can't do anything besides play along. But it's not fair for me to take that out on you."
He reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, slowly managing to get me to unfurl from the closed off position. "It's o...okay. I'm sorry too." Letting out a sigh, I push my door open and unbuckle before glancing back at him. "Are you ready to go?"
"As ready as I'll ever be to see Chloe by choice."
In the end, Chloe is asleep, so we don't have the chance to talk to her. They did let us in to see her, but only for a few minutes. It was enough time to leave a letter with my phone number and the offer for her to come stay with me if she needed a place.
That was easier than looking at the state she was in now.
It was probably for the best that she was asleep; I don't know if I could have held a conversation with her without wincing if she'd been awake. At least one hand has been completely burned and mangled, and there are other burn marks that decorate her arms. No doubt there are some on her legs too. Her right eyebrows has been completely singed off; to be honest, the entire right side of her face seems to have been licked by the flames. Some parts aren't as bad as others, but she's obviously been damaged. The whole right side of her head has had the hair burned right off, and even the left side has been significantly singed.
I can't imagine what she looked like when they first pulled her out. Even though she made my life miserable, I never would have wished this upon her. She's going to be devastated when she wakes up.
I'm going to come back and see her when I get the chance. I know I probably won't be, but I wish I could be there when she wakes up. Chloe is going to need someone to be there for her.
Nino drove me in silence once again as he brought me home; I think both of us were shocked at the sight of Chloe. Of course, we'd both seen our share of what the challenges had done. I was there to see what Lila had to do, and we all saw the mental state Kim and Rose devolved into as they both failed their respective challenges. Something has happened to Ivan too, though he won't speak.
Still, I don't think any of it really sunk in till we saw Chloe. Chloe, the selfish girl so obsessed with her looks and belongings that she couldn't care for anyone else; as far as we knew, she didn't even care for her father. She'd been the way her entire life, at least as far as we knew. And yet, she let everything burn; sure, we don't know that it was her challenge, but something inside me tells me that it is. The fact that it destroyed everything she cared for, that it took it all from her, is horrifying. Sickening. The reports even said that she ran back in, screaming for her father, before anyone could stop her.
She was safe, and she went back in for her father. Even worse, she didn't succeed. Her father still died. The fire still took everything.
It makes me want to throw up.
Now I'm home, and having to face my other situation again: Tikki. She's still crying, though now that it's just us two she's given up trying to stay quiet. I cradle her in my cupped hands, biting my lip as I feel her shaking. What am I supposed to do to comfort the crying kwami? I'm so lost and as I hear her pitiful cries, I'm about ready to cry alongside her.
"Tikki, how am I supposed to help you?" I beg, slipping to my knees and trying hard to keep the sympathetic and stressed tears at bay. "I don't know how to help!"
"Then feel." Her voice has gone flat, and she turns to look at me, her eyes glowing white as she does.
A coldness rushes through my body, and I gasp in shock, nearly dropping my small friend. A ringing floods my ears as my vision goes black, and my heart begins to beat wildly in my chest as I frantically try to clear my head. Where am I? What did Tikki do?
Slowly, my eyes begin to adjust to the darkness around me. I can see the bare, practically rotting wood ceiling of whatever room I'm in if I strain my eyes. When I try to move my arms, they refuse, as if they are pinned down. I try to turn to get a better bearing for my surroundings, but a burning sensation runs through me, forcing me to halt any further efforts. Despite my best efforts, I find myself shaking, terrified of the situation I've found myself in.
I can feel one of my ears twitch, but I don't take much time to dwell on that oddity due to the noise that suddenly assaults it. Someone, somewhere nearby, is screaming. As I strain at my bonds, trying to hear something more than just the screaming to get a sense of what's going on while ignoring my pain, I realize a few things. Firstly, the person I believe I initially heard screaming is a female. But even more important than that is that she - whoever she may be - is not the only one screaming.
I begin to writhe even more against my will, panicking and desperately trying to force my mouth open so I can scream alongside those I can hear.
The sudden creak of a floorboard halts my movement instinctively. Something tells me I know what's coming, but I've never been here before. How could I possibly know who this is? I hear the door slowly open, and begin to thrash about as the footsteps come even closer.
"Hellooooo," The voice drawls. Despite my best efforts, I don't recognize it. "How are you doing today, my dear Plagg?"
"Screw. You!" My mouth moves on its own accord, and as a masked face leans over me, I suddenly realize what's going on.
Has Tikki...allowed me to see what Plagg is seeing? Or at least what he experienced previously? Is this what she had to watch earlier?
"Oh dear," I try to determine anything about the voice to clue me in as to who this could be, but I can't even figure out what gender the speaker is, "I guess you're still upset about your...ahem, situation."
"Why are you doing this?"
The speaker laughs, shaking their head. "Why would I not want to do this?" Before I - well, Plagg - can properly formulate a response, there is the sound of metal against metal, and I instinctively flinch at the sound. "Aw, is my little kitty scared?"
"What did you do to my kid?" The words come spitting from my mouth as I begin to thrash around again, but despite my efforts to bluster my way through this I can feel the panic welling up inside of me.
When my tormentor doesn't respond, I can tell Plagg is going to open his mouth to antagonize them again. I cringe, desperately wishing there was a way to stop him. He's making things worse for himself. Can't he see that? And why can't he cataclysm himself out of this situation?
But before he can say anything else and before I can dwell on why he can't escape, the monster looming over me suddenly moves, and a scream rips its way from my mouth as pain ripples like shock waves through my arm. I writhe about, trying to escape whatever has plunged its way into my arm, but that just makes things worse. Still, I can't stop myself from thrashing around, practically choking on my screams of pain.
"So kwamis do bleed." As if to prove their point, they dangle a pair of scissors in front of my face, and the blades are covered in both old and fresh blood. "How peculiar. I would've assumed you couldn't."
Their other hand reaches forward, tugging at my face just below my eye. They adjust their grip on the scissors, closing them and grasping the blades tight together. As if to taunt me, they slowly bring them closer, and all I can do is stare and gasp in pain as they approach.
The pressure applied is light at first, just enough to make me aware that it's there. "How fast do kwamis regenerate, Plagg? Do they regenerate? Surely you must recover from your wounds. I highly doubt you'd have survived this long otherwise; I can't have been the only one to discover one of your weaknesses. So how long does it take?"
I stare up at them, glaring, and they sigh. But their exasperation is obviously not genuine; a wide, rather maniacal grin has taken their face as they lean a bit closer, breathing directly on my face. "Pity." The blade digs a bit deeper. "I guess we'll have to find out the hard way then, won't we?"
Before I can even process the statement, or try to figure out a way to escape this foresaken hell Plagg has been left in, the scissor blades break the skin. Blood runs down my face, some getting into my eyes as I force yet another scream from my throat. I thrash about, despite my efforts to try and stop moving so as not to make the wound worse, and eventually give up even trying to avoid it as the demon tormentor pulls their hand away.
The scissor blades are left lodged in my head, and blood continues to drip down my face, trailing down into my mouth. I'm not even in a position where I can spit it from my mouth, forced instead to try and swallow it before I drown in it. Any dignity that the kwami - and by extent, that I - once had has been stripped away.
All that's left is a sobbing, bleeding mess.
"What happens if I hack one of those nice little ears of yours off? Think I could rip it off with my bare hand?" They laugh gleefully, swiping a finger across my face and raising it to their face to lick the blood right off it. "Ooh, the blood of a kwami. It tastes positively devine." They chuckle at their joke as panicked sobs continue to wrack my chest. "But who am I kidding, I couldn't rip your ear off all on my own."
Their hand slips back out of view, presumably to their belt, or a table, or to wherever what else they have with them is kept. I don't even try to disguise my anguish now: is it mine? Plagg's? I don't even know where Plagg's reactions end and mine start anymore. Any sense of self has been lost in this foresaken place.
Why are we being dragged through Hell?
Then the hand comes back into view, and with it, a nice with what has to be fairly fresh bloodstains. "Just used this yesterday on a friend downstairs. It's one of my favorites. Cuts everything up so cleanly. Want to see it for yourself?"
I squeeze my eyes shut in desperation to pretend that I'm anywhere else, inciting further laughter. Pitifully, my now hoarse voice begs for relief. "Please, make it stop! I'll do anything, just stop! Stop hurting me and my Chosen!"
The anguish just seems to excite them; I can hear our tormentor's breath quicken. "Darling, this might be your nightmare, but it's my fantasy."
"Tikki!" I don't even know if it's me or Plagg that wails the name.
As the tip of the knife touches my ear, it feels as if ice washes over me, and suddenly I can move. I leap to my feet, screaming and clutching at my arm and face. My eyes open, but at first all I can see is red. The smell of blood overwhelms me, and I choke on it for a few moments before releasing the meager amount of food I'd eaten that day onto the floor before me. Screams turning to broken sobs, I fall on my knees in my vomit, struggling to breathe properly. My hands shake as I run them over my arms, trying desperately to assure myself they're in one piece despite the knowledge that just a few moments prior, one has been brutally stabbed. After another minute of this, I brush a hand over my forehead, trying desperately to assure myself that there is no wound there, no scissors left behind.
I am here. I am in my house. I hold back on further sobs of terror, or perhaps relief? I can't tell which they are anymore as I place my head in my hands, quietly weeping. Though I know it's not real, that I am not there any longer, I swear I can still feel the tip of the knife at my ear. The laughter of the person in the room lingers in my ears, and I cover them instead of my face, trying desperately to block it out and failing miserably.
"Stop!" I moan, throwing my head backwards and clenching my eyes shut. "Get out of my head! I'm not near you anymore. I'm home! Let me go!" Breathe quickening once more, my voice grows louder as my shaking grows more violent. "Let. Me. Go!"
I howl the last word, practically clawing at my head before a voice suddenly breaks through. "Marinette!"
Everythign suddenly stops. I freeze, afraid to move. What if I'm back there? I don't want to go back. I can't go back! But as I slowly force one eye open and then the other, I see that I am still in my home. The demon isn't here; there is no blood, no scissors, no laughter. As I uncover my ears, I can't stop my hands from shaking or my heart from pounding, but I do my best to regulate my breathing and regain some sense of calmness.
Tikki suddenly floats into view, looking drained and distressed, yet also guilty. "I-I'm so sorry..."
I offer her no response, instead placing my head against my knees. She doesn't say anything; no doubt she's hesitant after the absolute breakdown I just had. And yet, after what must be at least five minutes of me staying like that, she slowly nuzzles up against my neck. I don't push her away. I need her closeness now.
Finally, when the scent of vomit becomes too much to bear, I force myself to stand on shaky feet, and Tikki clings to my shoulder, no doubt still trying to apologize for whatever it was that she did. "I...I'm going to go take a...take a shower..."
I'll clean the vomit up after I clean myself.
Maybe the shower will wash the stench of blood off me.
That and the terror that still clings to every part of me.
And there we have it! No challenge this chapter, but I wanted to give you guys a glimpse at what Plagg is experiencing right now. No Chloe just yet since I wanted that to take the focus, but we got to see a bit of what happened there. No worries, we'll be seeing more from her in the next few chapters, I promise!
So I mentioned having some questions for you guys at the beginning of this chapter, which I want to ask now. Firstly, what do you guys prefer? Longer updates with more time in between or shorter updates faster? They wouldn't be less than a thousand, but normally I try to at least hit 2,000 words, if not 3,000, and if you guys would rather get updates faster I'm willing to shorten them for the sake of faster uploads. Secondly, do you guys want me to have a chapter for Nathalie's and Kalil's trials, or can I explain them without actually dedicating a chapter to them? If you guys want a chapter on each, then I will oblige, I will just have to figure out whose perspective I will write from, as I don't think i can write from either. However, if you guys don't mind merely getting detailed descriptions - perhaps from the characters themselves at the next meeting - then I can also do that, which will also mean faster updates as it means I'll get to two of the challenges I'm most excited for.
Anyways, I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Dang, this story is a ride to write. It's definitely fun to unlessh the inner sadistic figure for a bit, but also draining. Emotionally taxing, for sure. Anyways, thanks for reading! I'll try to update faster next time. c: Now I'm back in the groove again though, so I should be a bit more constant.
Until next time!
~ Dagger