PSYCHOPATH [COMPLETED]

Optimistic

After that war in Isabelle's own head, Paul and Isabelle returned back to reality. First thing Isabelle did was check on on her mother.

"Mom! Are you okay?" She shook her, but with a grunt, her mother turned around, snoring slightly.

"She is just sleeping, let's just leave her there." Paul said, relieved that everyone was safe. To their dismay, their wounds have yet to heal. But they were too overcome by the thrill that they had won their first battle. They headed to Isabelle's room. Paul took a first aid kit from a corner, bringing it in with him.

They sat by the bed. Blinking, Isabelle beamed. "We've won." Paul laughed, flicking when the cut on his lip stung with every movement.

Actually, Paul and Isabelle had summoned up their Spirits' strength. Paul had Patrick's powers and strength, and Isabelle had Belle's crazed state of mind, and destructing skills. They had 'took' it while they were looking at each other before Patrick had teased them. With their own Spirits, their eyes had switched.

They had won not only by their capability, but their intelligence. They wouldn't have won if Isabelle hadn't thought of 'stealing' their Spirits powers, and Paul not finding a exactly how to execute it perfectly without suspicion.

They did it.

(Little friendship now between Paul and Isabelle. This may be the only chapter with not every sentence about cracking someone's bones. Enjoy!
-Vanessa)

   Paul took out a plaster and placed it gently on a cut across Isabelle's knee. "Does it hurt?" He asked, his eyes twinkling.

  "Not that much now." Isabelle replied. Then she took a cotton wool, soaking it with antiseptic and dabbing it on Paul's cut.

  Paul's cut was deeper and he winced. Isabelle coaxed him down. "Relax..." She soothed. Slowly, Isabelle managed to clean it, and placed a bandaid on it.

   For a hour, Isabelle and Paul took turns helping each other out. Their wounds were infected by not-true human's, so it managed to heal easier, but they still has to wrap it up.

  Soon, they were done. Paul's black eye was fading (not his eye!! The wound.) and Isabelle's nail scratch across her cheek was also sealing itself up.

  They picked themselves up, walking out of their room. By they couldn't rest. No now. They looked at each other, and sighed.

  "We're not able to take a break yet, huh?" Isabelle shrugged, dangling the keys and heading towards the door.

  "Yup. Still got a whole lot of research have not done." Paul coughed slightly.

Slowly, silently, still leaving Isabelle's mother snoring by the kitchen floor, they closed the door and left the house.

*Patrick's P.O.V*

I scrambled out of Isabelle's mind. I carried Belle in a bridal-carry, her head thumping against my arm limply with every motion i made.

She looked dead, her face crystallizing slowly, light glinting from a small patch of her skin from her neck.

She had to get to the school. They would know what to do to help her.

I felt a sting of pain on my neck, and slowly registered the horror that my skin was crystallizing too.

And help me too.