Nightfall

t h i r t y - t w o

And it was precisely then that the thin line between fear and insanity started fading away.

A loud, ear-splitting shriek winded out of her throat. She reached for the ducts, attempting to yank it out of her skin maniacally.

As they didn't budge, more desperate screams left her mouth as she thrashed around in the bed, trying to pull it out of her.

She didn't hear the curtains being drawn back, as a nurse rushed in towards her bed.

She screamed hysterically, "Get it off! Get it off! GET IT OUT OF ME!"

She felt a hand hold her down by the shoulder staunchly, but she wouldn't stop flailing around like a rabid dog.

She kept repeating the same phrase over and over again, her senses spiralling out of control, not realizing that more people were gathering around her.

The next two minutes were a complete blur, but Tahlia soon felt her voice giving away. Her energy was diminishing and drowsiness was invading her brain again.

It was as she slowly ceased her vehement yelling, that she could hear just how loud and acute the beeping from the monitor had gotten.

She closed her eyes, an achromatic image encapturing Emilia's dulcet smile, the last thing she saw.

✴

Five Days Later

"The hypothermia has subsided and the frostbitten fingers are healing pretty well actually. No overt symptoms of PTSD yet. We should be thankful that the snowplow driver found her as soon as he did, otherwise I'd say we'd be looking at fourth degree frostbite."

The woman in the pristine white lab coat said to middle-aged suited up man, as they both glanced at the bed further down to their side, at the pale faced girl sitting up in it, staring at the plain wall impassively.

"She hasn't had any more..." The man trailed off, momentarily searching for the right word, "...attacks, has she?"

The doctor sighed, "Not as bad as the one she had when she first woke up. Did they tell you she tried to rip the IV catheter off her arm? Yeah, we had to sedate her. But I think she's slowly getting used to it, thank heavens."

The man nodded in acknowledgement, as the good doctor excused herself. He snuck another brief but gauging look at her, before starting to saunter down her direction.

"Natalia Meyers?"

Her detached gaze met his. The look in her eyes was hollow, yet harrowing, catching him off guard for a second.

"I'm special agent Wayne Gallagher. Do you mind if I talk to you right now?"

Her face remained stoic, "Where's Sergeant Randall?" She spoke softly, her voice hushed.

"As of seven days ago, the Westfield Ripper case is now under the jurisdiction of the FBI."

Tahlia felt herself flinch in the slightest, as the name 'Westfield Ripper' reached her ears.

"Well, like I said, I have some questions." He reached for the stool near the IV fluid bag, settling down. He couldn't help but glimpse at her hands. The medium-sized clip on her fingers, that he knew as the pulse oximeter, was not big enough to hide the pale bluish tips, nor the strange cuts that littered the entirety of her right palm.