RACHEL
Pain. She only remembered pain. Thanks to the drip that she knew was inserted into her hand, that pain seemed distant, softer in her body than her mind. But she remembered the pain. The bullet ripping through her flesh. The warmth of her own blood. The pain consumed her, making her shut her eyes tight and pray to who-ever could hear that she promised to be a good girl if only the pain would go away. Rachel drifted in and out of sleep, sometimes she was alone, sometimes she could sense someone in the room with her. The person brought with them the familiar and comforting scent of vampire incense, and she thought it was Ivy. But she never had enough strength to find out who. The witch had only two thoughts, pain and Ivy. Was she okay, had they hurt her too? She wanted, no, needed to know. Needed to know that Ivy was safe, that the pain was worth it. That she wasn't going to die in vain. Her vision blurred, sleep called to her to take away the pain; leaving only Ivy.