❝Hello, darling. Come to kill me have you?❞
- in which nyx has been tasked with bringing in number five.
(female oc x five hargreeves)
(tua season 1-??)
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𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆
𝐏ain. That was the only thing Nyx felt as she moved to sit up. Like a wave crashing into the rocks at the beach, the feeling seared through her veins and burned heavily within her chest. It clouded her mind, cutting the cord between thought and reality as it blurred them both into her vision. Her face twisted at the agonizing torture but she bit down hard on her cheek to stop any protests of pain that clawed their way up her throat. A single tear dripped down the corner of her eye, spilling out onto her cheek where it rolled down in a small stream but it was cut short in its path as she wiped it away before another could follow. It was a cold tap against her elbow that made Nyx halt in her movement, her gaze dropping to find countless cords and wires attached to her. Some were stuck to her chest while others had been taped to her arms. A rhythmic beeping suddenly filled her ears as the little breath she had constricted in her lungs.
Her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked around at her surroundings. She wasn't quite sure where she expected herself to be but this was certainly not it. Her memory was hazy; images blurred, and sound far too disoriented enough for her to grasp an understanding of how she ended up in the infirmary. She didn't panic, not yet. She had handled far worse in her lifetime to fear before knowing. But what she didn't anticipate was for her to further investigate her mind to realize she didn't remember much of anything at all. Only then did the panic sweep in.
It came fast, shrouding her senses and grasping hold of her consciousness. Her breathing became more ragged in its growing construction until she was nearly gasping for air. The matching monitoring her heartbeat beside her beeped louder and louder with each growing second, the noise only fueling her panic. Her hand rubbed harshly against her chest in a futile attempt to ease her racing heart but the touch only sent a sharp wave of pain through her body. A choked cry slipped past her lips as she ripped the sensors against her chest free, the beeping instantly silencing. But the newfound silence did little to ease her ever-growing panic. If anything it made her feel more trapped. She wanted, no needed, to be free from the equipment's confinement. So one by one she ripped out her IV, the sleeve taking her blood pressure, the tube gifting her nostrils oxygen, and the other needles prodded into her skin.
Her hands flew up to her hair, tangling within the brown roots as her knees curled up to her chest. Despite the pain of it, she folded herself into a ball. Trying, again and again, to wrack her mind for any memory as to what had happened to her but nothing came. Nothing ever came. She tried to regulate her breathing in a feeble attempt to calm down but no tacit she could think of worked. Tears and pain blended together to blur her vision but she could still make out enough to see the horrible sight of her own reflection in the mirror across from her.
Her skin had been painted with a ghostly glow, a near gray tinting the brown of her skin. The whites of her eyes were veiny and red and beneath them resided a nasty purple. She could see the dried blood crusted on her neck and chin, some of it even splattered across her cheeks. She looked nearly identical to a corpse and if her body had been any frailer, she would have thought herself to be one. Her previous panic was now sent into a skyrocket.
