"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 clearly through the halls, and so the end-of-class bustle began in earnest. Juliet wasted no time in slinging her bag over her shoulder and weaving past the slowpokes in their seats, pushing her way out the classroom. The math teacher was pulling some last-minute reminders like an advertisement with the fine print, and she wasn't in any state of mind to care.

Test this, homework that, yadda-yadda. Give me a break.

The cafeteria down the hall was cordoned off with some caution tape and with a lone security guard, nervously glancing up and down, this way and that. Watson paid him no mind, for she wanted nothing to do with the place he guarded ever again. Already had Prescott's hour-long ultimatum expired, and it became clear that every minute spent outside the safety of the girls' dorm building was another minute in danger.

So, Juliet walked down the hallway towards the intersection, intending to follow through the main building's entrance out into the quad, then head left towards her figurative sanctuary. A fist clutched the strap of her bag as she rounded the corner—

Immediately she reversed and swung herself backwards, out of sight. She pressed herself against the lockers along the wall. A hand clutched her heart, drumming anxiously under skin and bone—

Where the hell had they come from!?

She'd gone unnoticed by the four of Prescott's hounds laxing in front of the main doors. They had their backs turned when she'd walked around the corner and were hunched over, looking down at their phones. Nathan must've had them posted up, waiting for her to walk right into the trap. Perhaps they were meant to intimidate, perhaps they were meant to get violent, it didn't matter much either way. She had to find another way through.

Glancing back the way she came, Watson saw 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, and 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, those bobbing heads and limbs danced about as the four boys around the corner were jesting with each other. Snarky laughs rung from them, and it seems someone struck comedy gold and got the whole squad laughing. Their jokes were blank noise 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 hounds.

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 push them to the sides, and they couldn't reach her from their positions against the walls. Juliet thanked the heavens for a clean getaway and followed the group in front of her as the doors opened to the outside—

Right into another group of Prescott's, eyeing the exiting masses from the water fountain some distance from the entrance.

Oh no.

They spotted her almost immediately, as with a nod from their group leader they stood and advanced on the dispersing crowd, and dread swelled in her heart and made her thoughts spill into a maddening symphony. She clung to the four students 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.

She was glad she wore sneakers today.

A commotion from behind her made her panic. 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 hounds cackled and cried, footsteps rumbled behind her as they gave chase, some hollered and whooped from farther behind, egging on the ones right at her heels.

Not thinking straight, she glanced back and saw the eyes of the closest hound a few steps behind her. The sheer steadiness in that gaze, like a wolf assured of its next prize sprung her legs into gear, her heart now in overdrive as she ducked out of his reaching arm.

Turning the corner of the gate, 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. The hound stopped short, halting himself with a planted foot; him and his comrades could easily jump her where she lay, but they had locked eyes with the person Juliet had crashed into. She did the same, looking shocked to see the school's only janitor and maintenance worker, Samuel Taylor, standing calmly between her and the hounds. He was 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 can and 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 clearly see the exaggerated, toned physique he wielded, he seemed more apt to be a security guard than a measly janitor. For while he walked with a slight limp in his left leg and a hunched back, 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 appearance. 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 combat 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. His brow was straight, and his muscles flexed under his shirt.

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, so they flung their hoodies over their heads and retreated, dashing around the gate and out of sight.

A hand, covered by 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, and relaxed. He then turned his head to the gate and sighed.

"Samuel accepts your apology."

He also talks in second person, which made conversations with the man hard to maintain.

"Thank you by the way, for 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 amount of wet 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 this statement at face-value. Yet that's the thing about Samuel, because he was not one to say something meaningless. He could be aptly described as an enigma sometimes with the way he worded things, so when an enigma is giving her a straight and honest answer, it filled Juliet with a peculiar feeling of discomfort, the same kind she'd been feeling a lot during this whole week.

"I will," she answered.

Samuel turned about and strode 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 Watson turned and quickly strode to the dorm's front doors.

Compared to the cool air outside, the inside was stuffy and 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 to her excitedly, while Alyssa had her head down, 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 hounds 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 now Alyssa began pacing back and forth, her face was knotted into a tense grimace.

"Alyssa, what's wrong?"

"It's been five minutes, and she's not responding," Anderson replied, bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Who?" asked Juliet.

"Stella," Alyssa held a finger up a second after, beckoning them to be silent, "Stella? You there?"

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 going on?"

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 should head down, now," and she sped her way to the stairs, the two behind her in tow.

"What 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's office, but the hounds are blocking her way to it," with a shove, Alyssa swung the stairway door open and moved for the 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 it could be either one of them."

"Aw, fuck," Juliet swore, rubbing the back of her neck, fidgeting.

They waited, with Alyssa looking through the small window of the entrance 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 in the open, 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 such an 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 single girl with short, curly brunette hair 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 they weren't sure, "Juliet said they chased her past the gate, they'll not hold back if it's just us versus them. 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 all vulnerable," Alyssa was shaking her head as she spoke, as if reaffirming the truth to herself.

"Wait, wait wait wait—!" Juliet sought their attention, "Maybe it doesn't have to be this way. Ol' Samuel's going to be out there, being a janitor and whatnot. If he notices the hounds try to attack us, he'll help us!"

Alyssa took another glance out the window, checking all around her field of view. It was a moment rife with tension when she finally, solemnly muttered, "I don't see him out there. He's probably in his office off to the side, and I don't want to rely on him to save our skins in a fist-fight."

"If you're not going to go out there and do something, then I will—" Dana was moving 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 strong-arm the bulkier girl out of her way. And 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 her efforts to keep Ward from exiting. Such fright perplexed Watson, and she needed an answer, "Alyssa just…at least tell us why you want to stay, just tell us that—"

But Alyssa didn't hear her, so entangled was she in the brawl that was between her and Dana to notice. The two girls teetered to and fro, but it was clear that Alyssa held the upper hand in keeping Ward from pushing her away. Annoyed, the cheerleader 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 very 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, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Dana, just let it go—"

"My family was attacked at knifepoint because they trusted their circumstances, that's what's wrong with me," Alyssa spat, low and vulnerable, "and you charging headfirst to assured death like them 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 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?"

"That's not true, 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. Now, Ward was like an electric charge, fiery and trembling from the excessive fury 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 IT, 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, but the oxygen was in short supply. 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, as though a mother chiding her kids, "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 kept her glare 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 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 suddenly, very uncomfortably stiff, her 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. The momentum was lacking, the door arched only a foot inward or so before stopping.

"Is anyone in 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 their missing friends, Stella and Brooke. The former was hunched over, visibly exhausted and panting. Held up by a single arm, Brooke was leaning onto the smaller brunette, the Filipina's head swayed 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, and the rest trotting in front. Juliet felt the pangs of dread bloom in her heart when she beheld Brooke's bloodied nose. It looked crooked, and Watson couldn't tell if it truly was broken because of the way the blood caught her attention, shining wet and coating the wounded girl's upper lip. Instead, Watson focused on reaching her dorm and ushering her friends inside.

Brooke's consciousness had been floating somewhere between knocked-the-fuck-out and barely functioning, and she was now trying to shrug the lot of them off of her, this 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, and Juliet imagined it to be caused by the girl's clogged nose. Watson 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. The girls 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, Juliet 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," and 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 out 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 abrasive-red hue that covered the entirety of the raven-haired girl's nose. Watson was thankful: the nose 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.

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.

"Ah'm fine, homest. Ah' could'a done it mah'self, yu'know," she indignantly deadpanned, crossing her arms and trying to curb the subtle sting by frowning it away.

Stella chuckled, so sudden and carefree in this tense atmosphere, and everyone else looked at her like she'd gone mad. Yet, this made her chuckle more, "I'm sorry guys, it's just she sounds like fuckin' Squidward, y'know, from that one episode of Spongebob—"

Nervous chuckles came from all the others. The poor girl did indeed sound like Squidward, lacking but a clarinet to play.

"Ah' dom't sound 'ike Squidvard!" 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. Hey, I'll head on down to the Krusty Krab, and we can get 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—! I'm joking, I'm joking!"

This time, Brooke went along with the chortling, this rising in a feverish pitch as Stella nursed the impact on her leg, clambering off her spot on the bed and walking 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.

"Alter, mein Bein—you know what, I change my mind, she's more like Patrick with that fuckin' blunt strength she's got—" then a howling of cackles resounded at the jab, and Brooke was in tears from cackling.

That is, until a sob tore through the merriment, silencing the others instantly.

Brooke's shaky hands muffled those sharp cries and covered her 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 emotions. They'd hoped that the jokes and the banter would've pulled their poor friend up from her woes, would've distracted her at the very least. They carefully gathered around their friend, and gently pulled her from where she lay 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 guys, 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 so fucking 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. Everything we do counts for something."

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 crisscrossed on the floor beside them, 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?" and Juliet perked her head towards Stella, "we're gonna 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 harped before about it being pointless to care for the world, but if we are gonna fight, then we do it for our friends, for ourselves."

knock-knock-knock

Five sets of eyes flicked to the door, as dread crept from the depths of their souls. The impossible snapped into possibility: the hounds had broken into the dorm building and were just beyond their shelter, awaiting the moment of bloodshed. Immediately, everyone except 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 after all, 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 would tear the door down themselves if they grew impatient. Yet even with the four's combined strength, they couldn't face those devils outnumbered. It had to be here, in the bottleneck of the threshold, 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 into 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. They were as ready as they ever could be.

They had no choice. 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 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. And so caught were they in their reverie, that no one had anything to say. Everyone was still as a statue.

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, since 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, we do," came the curt response.

The Queen huffed, "I didn't come here just to say, I told you so, even if I should," and with a snap of fingers came the cue for her minions. Taylor tugged the sling around her frame and presented a large bag, with a red cross on a circled white background placed in the center of its 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 could manifest as a burning handprint and leave them be from her conniving plans. There was no trust to be spared to someone as cold and as calculated as Victoria, Queen of Blackwell and tyrant to all beneath her. 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 rest of you 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 regardless, leaving Courtney and the Queen to wait patiently with Juliet outside. The door was shut almost to closed, manned by the reporter standing watch, as the rest of her group now eased the bloody gauze 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 girls 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 kind of devious witch, able to curse them with a snap of the fingers, perhaps 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 already?" she asked them, hesitantly. Christensen looked to the girl she was most familiar with, who was Dana.

"Yeah," Ward answered, "We put the disinfectant on first, then the bandage."

"Alright," the denim blonde 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 remembers that she has not the faintest idea of who these girls 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 chattering goblins 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 her gratitude and pressing the adhesive further to the protest of her friends.

"…hey, Taylor?"

"What?"

Dana hesitated, cautious, "I appreciate you helping us out, but why—uhm, why is Victoria…?"

"Why is she being nice 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 took 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 with the grey jacket? 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, by any chance?"

"No, she isn't," Taylor answered, "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 hounds."

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 farewell, Taylor walked out the dorm room. A lively chat between the three outside was cut short, as Victoria handed a gift to Watson, then with a nod of understanding the Queen and her aides left them to it, walking down the hall towards the exit.

Dana and the others gathered their attention to whatever gift Juliet held in her hands, and the reporter swung the door closed with the hem of her shoe and clutched a large 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 twelve inches or so in height, its name some kind of expensive title from the vast golden fields of California. Its dark hue hinted at a red wine, something with a promise to make all their troubles ebb away.

"Tonight, 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