TORN FLESH

CHAPTER TWENTY: SILENT ISOLATION

HER eyes.

She couldn't find it in her to open them, for fear of what she may see, or for fear of what she might not see.

The first thought that drove her to open them was whether or not Violet was okay.

Slowly cracking her eyes open, she found that she was in a white room, there was only a small cot and a heart monitor accompanying her in the room, she was alone.

And by the looks of the room, she could tell she was in a place just as bad as the one they'd escaped a few days prior.

Pulling her legs over the side of the cot, Margo stood and moved to remove the needle from her arm that was connected to the machinery at her bedside, hopefully, it didn't alert anyone that she was no longer connected.

She couldn't risk being caught, not until she found Violet.

Quietly approaching the door to the white room, Margo peered out through the glass window at the top, there wasn't much beyond the door, besides a white hallway that only contained more doors that were identical to her own.

Reaching her hand to pull on the doorknob, she found that it was unlocked, whoever had put her in the room to begin with obviously wasn't very bright.

As quietly as she could, Margo pulled the door open and slipped out into the bland hallway, no one roamed in either direction of it and she prayed it stayed that way, the last thing she needed was to be seen and reported.

Then she wouldn't be able to find Violet.

Starting down towards the dead-end of the hall, the girl began glancing into each room until she reached the end, maybe Violet was on the other end of the hall.

Turning around and restarting the process, Margo found that Violet was not in the hallway at all, not even the slightest glimpse suggested she had been there at some point.

The girl let out a small sigh, she was going to have to venture further than the hallway, but in order to safely do that, she was going to need a weapon.

And it seemed the needle attached to her I.V would serve that purpose perfectly.

Tightly gripping the sharp object in her hand, she held it at her side as she exited the room- silently closing the door behind her- before she continued down the hall and out into the larger room of wherever it was that she'd been taken to.

At the moment, it was resembling a hospital, but if she had to take a second guess, she would say it was a mental institute of sorts or a boarding house.

But even those were hard to come across at the time the end had begun.

It didn't matter, what mattered was locating Violet and Rogue before things got bad, before they got worse.

The conditions were already not in their favor, the last thing they needed was for them to be completely against the group of three.

Peeking around the corner, Margo spotted two nurses, she let out a sigh, the last thing she had wanted was to have to take more lives, but it seemed that was what she was good at. She'd been born into it, it wasn't something she'd ever be able to rid herself of, no matter how much she wanted to.

Maybe they'd let her pass with no problems, she hoped they did, otherwise, things would end badly, not for her, but for the nurses.

Taking a deep breath, Margo rounded the corner and walked with her head held high, she could remember Stan's lessons on confidence and how it always helped sell performances, she hoped that it worked then.

But, it seemed her luck had been drawn thin lately.

And at that moment, she didn't have enough.

The nurse to the left of her cast a look to her companion before slowly trailing after the girl, it was until a few moments later that she opened her mouth to speak.

"I don't think you're supposed to be roaming the halls."

Slowly glancing over her shoulder to glare at the woman, she watched as the woman's hand moved into her peripheral vision and she reached out to grab the girl's wrist.

Left with no other option, Margo made a choice then, either live and be locked away in the pale white room, or live- while taking the lives of others- and find the small blonde girl that had accompanied her on her adventure for so long.

She chose the second option.

Spinning around with the needle in hand, she jabbed it into the woman's chest with a small thud followed by a yelp from the woman as she clawed at her chest to try and remove the sharp device.

The other person, the male of the two, looked down at his fellow nurse with wide eyes before looking up to catch sight of the girl snatching a scalpel off from a nearby tray that had been left out.

He felt his heart drop into his stomach as he watched her stare him down.

Rushing to grab a scalpel of his own, he left himself vulnerable as he ran to the abandoned receptionist desk. He was hoping to locate a radio in hopes of warning the others a patient had gone violent, and he'd found the radio too, but not before Margo had popped the scalpel through the middle of his throat.

Taking a step back from the man, she watched as blood dripped down onto the hand resting upon the radio, a few seconds too late.

She almost felt sorry for him.

But then she remembered the image of a man carrying Violet away from her, and it only enraged her further.

Yanking the scalpel free of the man's thick skin, Margo watched as his head went limp against the desk, she wondered what would happen to him, would he come back?

It wasn't like it mattered, he would take care of the woman if she wasn't already dead.

Turning to check on said person, she watched as the woman's hands shook, she was still trying to pull the damned thing from her chest without hurting herself more.

Which wasn't going to happen, not after Margo raised her foot and slammed it down against the needle to force it further.

Ignoring the gasps that came from the woman- followed by the blood- she continued down the hallway until it opened up to a larger room, one that had another hallway, this one had a few rooms, but all the doors were open, meaning they were either empty, or they'd purposely been left open by a guest or the patient.

Margo didn't know which possibility she trusted more.

Pressing herself against the wall, she slowly began to creep along the smooth structure only stopping when she approached a doorway. And once she'd checked to make sure the coast was clear she would move down the row.

It wasn't until she was halfway down the hall that she caught sight of a figure rounding the corner up ahead, without giving it much thought, she darted through the closest doorway and hid behind the corner leading towards the hospital bed that waited within the room.

Taking a few breaths of air she let her eyes fall to the child lying in the bed in front of her.

It was Violet.

She smiled to herself.

Maybe her luck was beginning to come back.

Or not.

A hand- appearing out of the silence- grabbed her shoulder and turned the girl to face the person behind the sudden movement.

It was the same brunette that had leaned over her on the ice.

It was Mitch.

Too dazed to speak, Mitch quickly pulled the girl into his chest and wrapped both of his arms around her, within seconds one of his hands had snaked its way up to her head. Running his fingers through her hair he stared over her shoulder at the wall worried that if he let her go she'd disappear into dust.

A few more moments passed before Mitch finally pulled away and took a good look at the girl before him, at first, everything looked fine, she looked good.

And then he reached the lower half of her torso, the blood.

Her bloody hands and the scalpel perched within them.

Slowly looking up at her, his eyes were drawn wide and his lips turned downwards in a frown, "what did you do?"

Margo shook her head, she didn't know how else to respond. Letting the scalpel clatter to the floor, she met the boy's gaze, "doesn't really matter."

Reaching his hand up to rub his chin, Mitch found himself letting out a sigh.

As much as he wanted to be mad at her, he couldn't find it in himself to be angry.

Mostly because he had known the risks of leaving her door unlocked, of leaving her unattended, by not being there when she woke up.

That much was on him, and he knew that.

But as he stared down at Margo, none of that really mattered to him.

Just her.

And he was happy for that much.

He could remember the blood-curdling shriek that had left her lips as Stan had pulled him along to escape the horror the hospital had started, he could remember the gunshot as clearly as if it had been fired at him instead of her.

He shut his eyes for a moment.

She was fine.

He was fine.

They were all fine.

Well, except for Violet.

When they'd returned to the camp with all three females in tow and begun to evaluate Violet's health they'd been met with a flatline and a defibrillator to the girl's chest. And while her heart had started again, it was weak, and no one knew why she wasn't waking up.

From what they could tell, it was a simple case of hypothermia.

They'd made sure to keep her warm, covered up with multiple blankets and they didn't have to worry about the air conditioning once they'd shut the vents. And yet, she was still asleep.

Opening his eyes, Mitch looked back at Margo, her face was expectant, as if she was waiting for him to reassure her, to tell her everything was fine, that Violet was fine.

"She's... um- she's alright, we're just trying to keep her warm for now, help with the hypothermia."

He watched as the blonde turned her head to gaze upon the little girl, he'd never seen such care in her eyes, such worry, it seemed as if she was truly attached to the child.

He fought a smile.

Never, in any of his time knowing her, had he thought he'd live to see the day.

It was nice.

"They told me you had a leg injury."

Margo dared look at him, he knew what it was from just as much as she did. He knew why it had happened, he knew that if he had stayed he could've prevented it.

"Yeah, it was a bullet graze, got infected." she paused as she crossed her arms over her chest, "then Marcus and some others picked us up, they stitched me, then the stitches broke when we were leaving."

Mitch nodded his head as he listened, judging from her face and the limp in her step, his best guess was that they'd left within the last four days.

The bruises on her face were fresh and he could tell the cuts were still trying to scab over, and it wasn't like her limp was subtle either, he almost questioned how she was still alive, but that was something he already knew the answer to.

Violet seemed to be quite the persistent person, not one for giving up or giving in.

The two blondes were more alike than either of them would ever admit, but he saw it, maybe one day they would too.

TORN FLESH

CHAPTER TWENTY: SILENT ISOLATION