"Forgetting lets you live without the pain for a moment but remembering hits hard." – Ally Condie, Crossed
I remember being warm and cold at the same time. Maybe it was the fact that my mind was going in and out. I don't know, I'm not a doctor, I remember swaying maybe I had managed to get up? No my legs weren't moving, hell, no part of me was moving. Someone had picked me up, we were walking, walking, walking...Whoever it was didn't make a sound nor did it seem like their pace slowed. They stopped and for a second I thought they meant to drop me...But no I felt their legs tense and then a whiplash of air flicked across my face. After that my heart stuttered, whether in fear or excitement I couldn't tell you; and once again my mind drifted away.
Glass shattering, that's the first thing I remember. Then Oma crying out, panic sets in. I don't think that, there is a small gun hidden in my nightstand, hell I don't grab anything I just shoot up and rush from my dark room. I stumble though my head aching and my brain isn't working at full capacity. I just know I have to get to Oma. I didn't notice the window, I had escaped from earlier this night was closed. "Oma!" I shout even though it causes a harsh stabbing throb through my frontal lobe. I skid down the steps stumbling again I fall into a painful heap on the first floor with a growl, I manage to pull myself up. I see her then, she is lying in the small shaft of moonlight pouring in through the ornate glass on the front door. She's bleeding. I gasp and scurry over.
"Oh god Oma!" I whimper fear plunging my stomach to the floor as my brain attempts to focus. She's been shot in the chest, I can't tell how many times and she is crying out in pain. She's trying to talk, but I am already focused on trying to stop the bleeding. I reach over grabbing the curtain from the window beside the door ripping it from the bar.
"Oma I need to put pressure on the wound, it's going to hurt okay?" She nods, her blue green eyes filled with fear. I press down and she lets out a harsh cry of pain I wince but keep the pressure on it, my focus solely on her but I hear a noise from upstairs. Oma hears it as well and she speaks, though her words are laced with pain. "The library, they must not find what's in the library!" I blink turning to look at her. "Oma I need to—" She grasps my arm in her weak, wrinkled hand.
"I will be alright please what is in the library is more important than me." I nod weakly and she removes her hand to place it on the curtain, blood has seeped through and now wells up between her fingers, an image of my own hands covered in blood flash before me. I shake them away and turn rushing up the stairs again, reaching the second floor I see a shadow disappear up the third flight...Like Oma had said they were headed to the library. So I bolt after them, their pace quickens I know they've heard my footsteps on the landing. I'm not doing Natasha's training any good as I bash into the solid oak door leading to the library which is half of the third floor. It's silent besides the sound of the door hitting the wall from the impact of my hit. As I enter I look around nothing has been disturbed. Still the way I left it.
There are shelves along the walls and there are four stand alone shelves in the middle. Oma and Grandpa Jo had been avid collectors of books, so I follow through the middle row glancing to my sides every few seconds. I hear it then the window is open I rush to the other side of the room, the wind rustles the curtains, and pillows the pages of a book left open on the sill. I gingerly approach, no one waits in hiding as I lean out the window and check to the sides. No one hiding in the shadows...and no figures rushing along the street whoever it is must still be in the house or the have chosen another means of escape. My mind soothed for now that they weren't after anything in Oma's library, but my hackles raised, that this seemed like a blatant attack on Oma—All my thoughts freeze as a hand clamps over my mouth. I shriek and begin to thrash in whoever's hold, fingers clawing at the hand over my mouth but I realize I'm not grasping at flesh rather solid metal, body armor of some sort? But their grip is firm as they pull me back, the back of my head leaned against something solid, I think it's the shit head's shoulder. I panic again as I hear the clip of a safety being switched off, oh god...Whoever it is leans forward their mouth near my ear I can feel their breath on me and it makes my fingers clamp on tighter though it doesn't affect my captor.
" я прошу прощения. " I know the words are Russian, and there is a hollow sound to his voice, like he hasn't used it in a long time...or maybe it's muffled...But Natasha only taught me a few words and these were not any I recognized. I bite at the hand now even though it only serves to cause me more pain as my teeth clash uselessly against the metal. Then the cold press of the gun to my upper right shoulder, he's going to kill me, my heart stutters at the thought and in a blind panic I thrash and scream to no avail. Three shots sound and my back arches up as my captor releases me with no support for my body I fall back hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud, my ears are ringing whether from the shots or from my own shock I don't know. My head hits the hardest, the pain blinding me for a moment. I manage after a small amount of vision returns to move my head to look up as the assassin leaves me to bleed out. He's got long hair and a metal arm? No one in Shield's records that I had gotten my hands on talked about a metal armed assassin...And why me? Maybe someone who knew about New York? Better yet someone who wanted a danger out of the way. I feel light headed as the blood seeps out of my wounds onto the wood floor and my night shirt. I shiver as the warm blood seeps around me dripping down my side and soaking into my hair. I lay there gasping like a dying fish out of water my heart won't slow as my mind along with Camilla screams.
We're going to die.
"—two females with multiple gunshot wounds—" My eyes won't open but I know that's a voice I had never heard before. My shoulder is in agony, and my ears are still ringing.
"One female is late nineties, the other is early twenties—" They keep going in and out I feel more pain from my shoulder and I try to shift away from it. I gasp in surprise as pressure is placed on the wound.
"We're losing her!"
"Oma!" I'm shouting I know it, something feels wrong not the pain in my shoulder the fact that I can feel my blood warm on my cold skin. But that I sense that Oma is not alright that she's fading. Please don't leave me.
The life of a Siren is one of suffering.
Jolting awake I shot up and instantly regretted the action as a white hot pain slithered itself from my shoulder through my body. I sucked in a quick breath through clenched teeth. Turning I looked, my shoulder had been wrapped up in white gauze, which was now starting to seep with red. My right arm secured in a sling, IV's and other tubes laced around me.
"Ripped a stitch." I muttered then my attention turned to the room around me. A hospital room that much I could tell, clean, smells like chemicals; stark white sheets and . It was late, but shockingly enough no clock, I felt groggy. Drugs probably though my arm, felt pain so obviously it was wearing off.
"Oh you're awake." My attention turns to the doorway, a nurse young late twenties early thirties. Hair up in a neat bun and pink scrubs, tennis shoes a nurse would wear.
"Where am I?" I find myself asking. I don't trust her even though she has given me no reason to react with hostility.
"Bellevue Hospital." She approaches a practiced smile on her face, which falls the minute she sees the bloody gauze on my shoulder.
"Ripped a stitch I see." She picks up the charts at the end of the bed reading them over.
"Where's my Grandmother?" She doesn't look up from the roster.
"She's in another part—'
"Where. Is. She?" My words slip out through clenched teeth, this grabs her attention as I notice fear slipping into her gaze.
"You need to rest, I'll up your dose of—"
Sing now she can't be trusted.
I listen to Camilla for once letting the notes of a song slip out with practiced ease. Her eyes glaze over and I begin my instructions,
Grab a wheelchair and take me to my Grandmother. N o hesitation on the nurse's part as with robotic movements she heads out of the room returning a few moments later with said wheelchair. I wince as I attempt to maneuver myself with only one available arm and my other pulling uncomfortably at the other stitches. I rip out the IV's and tube taking off the pulse tracker I shove the entangling mess aside and move to slip off the bed. I hop from the bed only to stumble as my knees lock, I keep up my song though the nurse side steps the wheelchair and helps my hobble over to the chair. Finally sitting I direct her to take me to Oma. It's a long walk hell I hadn't
been in a hospital in years, but I notice we head down the marked hallways to ICU. And my heart beat sputters a bit.
She's older they just want to make sure she has a safer recovery...
I'm shocked Camilla is providing comfort but then again she was me in a way and she did care for Oma just like me. We reach ICU and as before the Nurse pushes me along when someone notices us I use my song to make them go about their business and forget we were ever there. She takes down along a long hallway that's dimly lit. We reach the end of it and she pushes us in as I finish the song I instruct her one last time.
"Leave us and lock the door then head back to your station. You won't remember any of this." I mumble. The nurse nods and the door closes behind her with a click. I turn my attention to Oma. And I have to stop myself from letting out a noise of despair. She is hooked up to multiple machines. One is helping her breath, another keeping track of her heart rate and IV's everywhere. She's asleep wheel myself forward with my left arm and I have to calm down. Tears are filling my eyes I whimper as I take her small withered hand in my own.
"Oma?" I finally manage out, no response.
"She won't awaken." I am turning so fast I think I tore another stitch. In the corner leans a figure I hadn't noticed when the nurse had brought me here.
Huge thank you to WinterLifeAmerica for betaing!