GLASS NERVE | alex rider

Nine.

( tw : lilith, mental health, medication )

CHAPTER NINE
ISSUE (LISTED BELOW)

     Bella couldn't honestly tell anyone how long it took to get to Paris if they asked, she slept the whole time. By the time they were all the way up in the air, she was out, the quick moving clouds lulling her straight to sleep.

As told, when they landed at a private section of the airport, a blacked out car was waiting for her. She wasn't given the opportunity to see the faces of her escorts, hustled into the car quickly. She barely had time to get her seatbelt on before the car sped off but she was used to chaotic drivers—she lived with James. Still, it took her nails almost the whole drive to the hotel to tear out of the leather seats of the Bugatti.

According to Stellenbosch's little rant about her plans for the next two days, the hotel Bella was being dumped at was owned by the academy. That meant she'd have a hell of a time running away when the entire place was just an extension of Point Blanc. It was quickly apparent Stellenbosch thought she was a runner.

Bella kept tight hold of her bags, even when the driver insisted he carry them for her in such an insufferable French accent that she couldn't help but shoot him the nastiest look she could muster. He cursed at her in French, oblivious to the fact she'd been speaking the language since she was eight, and begrudgingly led her inside the hotel. They were trailed by the other person from the car who was only there to keep Bella from turning and taking off into Paris, never to be see again. Even if she wanted to, it wouldn't be worth it, it was raining. No one wants to frolic about Paris in the rain.

At first the receptionist greeted them in English, politely smiling at Bella, until the driver started talking to him in French. Then the conversation continued only in French.

Following the normal cover-story for Bella and Lilith, they were normal(ish) kids. The most insanity they experienced was how their mother died and then how Lilith's life played out. in reality, they could speak too many languages, knew too many things, and killed too many people. They weren't expected to know anymore than English, even with their high IQs. They didn't understand French, so Bella just stared at her shoes, a pair of black, bleach stained converse with velcro replacing the shoelaces, and impatiently waited for them to shut up and send her to bed.

The receptionist finally spoke to her. "Are you hungry, Miss?" She looked up, knowing she was the only lady in the entire lobby, and shook her head. She could eat. "There's a restaurant on the third floor, as well as an indoor swimming area and a courtyard in the center. They're all available to you if you so wish to use them."

She wouldn't be. Maybe the restaurant, but she had no interest in soaking in chlorine or watching the rain pelt her from above.

Bella nodded. "Okay." She wanted to sleep, not chitchat with the receptionist.

"Your room is on the second floor, number 13." He handed her a key and she took it gingerly, tucking it in her pocket. "This is the only exit so in the instance of an emergency, this is where you need to come to leave."

She knew he wasn't referring to an emergency, this place didn't have emergencies. It was his way of telling her there was only one way out and everyone would see her leave. She had no hope if she wanted to escape.