Psycho ➳ H.S.

Chapter 13

NOTE: This chapter contains extremely mature themes. Please read at your own discretion.

Commotion. People's voices went in and out of her ears as they pleased. Her eyelids were too heavy to open.

"H-Harry?"

She mustered all the strength she could find and moved her arm, which slid across pieces of broken glass scattered all around her. She tried to lift her neck up, but couldn't. Her hand came in contact with another hand, but it felt quite cold. She heard more noise- cries for help and directions from people who sounded like they had authority- and forced herself to open her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the grand, cream coloured dome of The Nine's foyer arching over her. She followed the arch, lifting her neck slowly until her eyes met the shattered glass doors, then the wreckage outside.

A black, mangled up Range Rover was sitting upside down in the middle of the street, on fire, being put out by a heavy stream of water. There was a large hole in the underside of it, and the passenger door was missing. Smoke billowed out from the metal chunks, soaring into the dark, night sky like eagles. It painted the blackness a thick shade of grey. However, the car wasn't the main attraction.

Bodies. Limbs. Crimson, and a lot of it. Then her blood ran cold in her veins- she pushed herself upright and tried to keep her fright contained within her.

Splattered upon her legs was the blood from the body of the hand she held previously; it was cold because half of the person's body was severed in two parts- the lower half was strewn across on her own and the torso adjacent to her. She caught sight of the person's head, his mouth agape and eyes glassy and lifeless. Upon this, she realized that she was surrounded by people who had been struck by fragments of cement or jagged glass, killing them. She saw organs she never thought she'd see in her lifetime.

Carissa let out and ear-splitting scream and shuffled her way backwards as far away as she could from the dead bodies, not caring if the shards of glass or rubble got stuck in her palms.

"Calm down. My name is Chris, and I'm here to help you," crooned a soft voice from behind her among the chaos. She looked around frantically and a man in a firefighting suit crouched in front of her. She didn't care who he was- she leaned in, wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. He was slightly taken aback, but held her for a moment, leaning and rocking and smoothing out her hair. When her crying ceased to die down, he slowly picked her up in his strong arms and carried her outside. While she was being transported, Carissa's curiosity got the better and she looked around, only to hide her face again and cry harder.

Dozens of dead people- guests and officers alike- were thrown about the sidewalk where she and Harry stood just a little over an hour ago. Shattered glass, chunks from the building and pieces of Harry's car were laying all over the road. She saw body parts without an owner; burn marks brandished nearly all of the affected; a few women and men weeping over their loved ones' bodies- firemen and paramedics tried to pull them away, but they latched on, crying and screaming for a few more seconds with the lifeless bodies; “Please! Come back! Please, I love you so much! Don’t do this to me! I love you!” they screamed. Carissa clamped her eyes shut until she was placed upon a soft cushion. Then she felt herself drift off into unconsciousness.

"You can open your eyes," she heard Chris say. She felt hands gently hold her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open to see the fireman sitting beside her. She looked outside through the open doors of the vehicle she was in and saw dead bodies being moved around on stretchers. Carissa shook her head and closed her eyes again, crying even harder as her messy hair fell in front of her face. She felt him push the strands back behind her ears and drape a warm cloth over her. She heard the doors close. "You're in an ambulance. It's okay to open your eyes now."

She took a deep breath in, her sniffles still shaky, and slowly let the incandescent lights inside the vehicle fill her eyes, causing her to strain. The firefighter stood in front of her with a half-apologetic smile.

"Is it okay if I clean you up?" he asked. She looked at her legs, which were still covered in the unknown person's blood. Her dress was more red than it was magenta, and it had been ripped in various places. The fireman held up a damp towel to show her what he was going to do. She nodded her head as a signal to him that it was okay to proceed.

The fireman dragged the towel across her skin, moving slowly and carefully. Once her legs had been cleaned of the blood, he looked up at her.

"Do you feel dizzy?"

She nodded.

"Do you need some water?"

She nodded again, and he promptly took one out from the cabinet on the wall opposite her. He twisted the cap off and handed it to her and she drank greedily, as if it were the only drink she'd ever get.

"The paramedics are going to get you to the hospital, okay?"

"Wait, someone I know is inside!"

Carissa attempted to get up to search for Harry, but the fireman halted her and sat her back down on the little cot. A sharp pain came from her leg, but she dismissed it for the time being.

"Everyone inside has been evacuated. They were told to meet anybody injured at the hospital," he said reassuringly, "so don't worry about it too much. Is there anything else you need?"

She shook her head. It was words that she needed, and she lacked them. He knew she meant well and smiled back at her, opening the doors just wide enough for him to slip out to make sure she wouldn't see anything outside in fear she would start crying again.

As the ambulance started moving, she remembered the pain in her leg and grimaced at the sharp feeling, wincing as she tried to focus. She looked down at her left calf and saw that it was dressed in bandages. It was about six inches long, give or take, and figured that the fireman must've helped clean it up.