A Murder Shall Commence.

Chapter 8

I swore under my breath multiple times, wanting desperately to cry. But tears refused to come, and all I got was a bubble of guilt in my throat, a pit of oblivion in my stomach and a splitting headache.

What had I done to my friends?

Numbly, with my good arm, I fumbled around for the paper I had collected in the Crystal Palace, just looking for something, anything, to focus my mind on. But I was wearing a slim white nightdress, and the bedside tables were bare. I sunk back into my hole of guilt and depression and closed my eyes.

When I next opened them, it was because someone had opened the door. It was Isabel, with a tray of lunch or breakfast on her lap, looking uncharacteristically stony-faced. I didn't meet her gaze. I didn't want food. I didn't want to see any of them. I'd hurt them all too much.

She dumped it on my lap. I didn't look at it, instead keeping my eyes weakly on the corner of the dresser across the room. There was a standoff, or at least, Isabel must have thought it to be, as she clearly wasn't up for any sort of confrontation.

"Don't bloody sulk. Eat it" she snapped. I didn't want to move. I didn't care to move. I didn't move.

"Don't want it" I eventually muttered, so softly I wasn't sure if Isabel had heard.

"You are...unbelievable" my sister said venomously, and I knew in my numbed heart she was close to slapping me in the face. It seemed like all my body was numb, inside and out, with a little bubble of something inexplicable in my throat, just hovering, without popping.

"Don't deserve it. Don't want it. Take it." I said.

Isabel's hands moved to the tray, but something I said must have hit a nerve, as she then changed her mind and backed off.

"Take it" I repeated again, flicking only my eyes up to stare at her, the rest of my face deadpan, expressionless. She stared at me and I stared at her, and eventually she took the tray and left the room. I lay back down in bed, my back to the door.

When the door opened for the third time, I refused to move altogether. The pad-pad of footsteps came over to the bed, and there was a minute of silence before their owner spoke.

"Alianna. I need to change the dressing on your arm. Sit up."

I seriously considered not moving. But then, it was Dr. Scott, and I felt minutely less guilty about him than I did everyone else. So, slowly and grumpily, I rolled over and shuffled upright, offering my arm.

"Thank you."

He sat down on the bed and began to untie the bandage. He worked quickly and efficiently, and I finally got to see the damage properly. My skin had been sliced in a long curving line that began at my wrist and finished in the crook of my elbow. I couldn't help but stare at it in a sort of morbid fascination.

"It'll be quite the scar you'll have there" Dr. Scott commented, as he saw me looking. I averted my eyes as soon as he mentioned it, though. He finished up quickly and sat, watching me.

"Can I...regurgitate something you said, last night?" he asked. I didn't make any acknowledging motion, but he took it as a yes.

"Someone's going to die. I mean, actually die, there's going to be a murder, and I'm the only one smart enough to solve the puzzles and I need to do this now, because I don't have time. I can't let this person die" he recited, and I finally let a flicker of emotion cross my face in the form of a wince.

"You've probably wondered why I decided to help you with your crazy scheme last night" Dr. Scott carried on. "Well, it was because of that. You were willing to do something illegal and potentially very dangerous to save the life of someone you've never met. That's why I helped you, you see. Because you showed real kindness, determination and loyalty, loyalty to a person who you don't even know. They may not even deserve it, and you were prepared to push yourself to your own limits in order to save them. But really, despite everything you've done, they're not safe yet, are they? You have to finish what you started."