Just like that, Bernadette found herself in the middle of an unknown dancefloor. Around her a pressed a mass of bodies, raising the smoldering heat of the space around them. The strobe lights and insufficient ventilation only aided to the suffocating feeling inside her chest. Aside from the obnoxious warmth, the mix of sweat and deodorant made her sinsuses feel as if someone had been shoving scalpels to the deepest parts of her brain. Sweat ran down her back and her forehead, her eyes watering at the sting it brought down when it seeped inside them.
The ravenette lost track of Melina and Antonio forever ago. Trying to shuffle out of the crowd to the bar she guessed them to have seated themselves at proved to be quite a challenge. As she pushed through, people bumped into her and shuffled her around. Few yelled, either cursing or catcalling her as she walked.
Her outfit didn’t help the predicament. The brand-new clothes bought hours before did little to cover her figure, which did the opposite of comforting her whenever she'd be forced to press against strangers to move.
Hours before, as the three sat on the couch in the tense silence following that embarassing exchange, an unknown figure appeared at the door. Bernadette looked up at the thin young girl, a mass of shopping bags in each hand. The brands were all familliar to Bernadette, the little she listened to her sister ramble about dwelling the larger city shopping districts when she'd call. An oversized men’s hoodie and shorts hung over her tiny frame. Tangled dirty-blonde hair reached her jaw, some sticking to her tan skin with the sweat that trickled down her face.
That face seemed familiar to Bernadette, but she said nothing as the other pulled the medical mask stuck to her face back before speaking.
“Good nerve to call me up in the middle of my job to fetch you some clothin’. Completely didn’t get the doc pressed,” her voice squeaky, Bernadette recognized her as one of the nurses that followed the doctor when checking up on her. Of course, the manner of speech made a difference between the sterile nurse and the current wild-haired misfit bursting through the door. Bernadette looked at the smirking Melina as she spoke.
“Sorry, how ‘bout I pay you in men again? That’s fine, yeah, Zivah?” Melina spoke, voice coated in fake innocence as she tilted her head. The ravenette beside bunched her eyebrows in concern, watching Zivah’s eyes light up with mischief before she took off the mask fully and walked towards the three.
The blonde dropped the bags in Bernadette’s lap, “I take it you’re going out tonight?” Melina nodded in her place, the young girl looked her straight in the eye with an innocent expression.
“Can I join ya? Please?” the expression she made resembled a begging puppy, she jumped into the little space on Melina’s side and hugged her left arm tight like a toddler.
The ginger looked at her sternly, her gaze burning.
“No.”
The girl hugging her seemed to be close to a tantrum (Bernadette'd snort at the childishness if it wasn't for the concerning words the two exchanged before), no matter how sweet her voice sounded. Bernadette braced herself.
“Cmon! Pretty please?” she cuddled into the other’s arm as she pleaded, “I won’t drink! I won’t get in trouble! You said you’re getting me test subjects, can I at least be there when you pick ‘em?”
Well, now Bernadette knew why it didn't sit well with her.
"No. First, just ‘cause ya work as a nurse at your age doesn’t mean you still ain’t fifteen. Second‒“
The ravenette broke Melina off as she shrieked in surprise, “Wait, she’s fifteen?”
The shorter rolled her eyes, “Yeah, she’s a year younger than my bro. Youngest ‘ere. Antonio’s the old man,” Bernadette looked at the man from the corner of her eye and saw his annoyed frown.
Bernadette could only gawk at the two while they continued to quarrel.
“As I was saying; second, ya parents are gonna raise a shitstorm, even if they don’t even care 'bout where ya are for the most part. Ya’re gonna get hurt and they’re gonna decide ta shut ya out for the rest of ya little life as well as report this house to da pigs. That means ya won’t be able to work wit’ us and ya’re gonna hav’ta kiss ya big-rankin' nurse job bye-bye!” Melina pinched the bridge of her own nose as she finished, closing her eyes and praying the other would give up.
But Zivah persisted, “C’mon! If I get hurt imma run back here 'n bandage myself up!”
"But‒” the younger pouted at Melina who cut her off.
“Besides, Fen’s going, is he not? He’s older than me, and he likes me enough to argue in my defense!”
Melina couldn’t help but facepalm and draw an exasperated sigh, “Of course, youth in love. Alright, but don’t be stickin’ to ’im. He’s got a job to do tonight.”
Zivah’s pout morphed into a mischievous grin as she stood up. Yanking two bags out of Bernadette’s lap, she made her way to the hallway of bedrooms with a bounce in her step.
“He’s at Nadra’s room,” Melina said as the other stood outside of the (formerly) her and Fen-Hua’s room.
Zivah nodded in understanding before looking over at Melina again with a cocked brow, “She’s inside?”
Melina shrugged,“Dunno. Don’t think any of tha clothes ya bought will even fit ‘er.”
Zivah said nothing as she entered the farthest room, though her shoulders appeared to slump.
The ginger turned over to the girl at her right, first looking at the bags and then into the other’s eyes with a new kind of flame,“Now, how 'bout we play dress-up?”
By the time Bernadette managed to struggle out of the most condensed part of the dancefloor, her orange top stuck to her frame with cold sweat. A cold metal made itself present as it pressed to her right hip and underneath the tight skin-tone bandage on her left wrist. It served as a grim reminder of words Melina drilled into her head as she rolled the blades in bandage;
"You'll have'ta get used to it, doll. If anyone gets a bit too touchy."
The words made the sweat cool against her skin again, like a frigid breeze.
Lucky for her, she didn’t feel much in her left wrist, contribution of a fist of pills Zivah had ordered her to take an hour before they departed. Now that she thought about it, the pills must also be responsible for her dazed state. Her anxiety muted between indifference and vague happiness, it's like her skin in itself now found responsible for the emotion as the sweat cooled each time she remembered something uneasy.
Bernadette didn’t dare drink, be it for the fear of the two thin blades sticking to her person or the smoothie of drugs in her system. Standing on the tips of her toes, she tried to peer over the crowd. She should at least be able to see Antonio. As a giant, he towered over the population and as soon as they entered the club, he stood as the odd one out due to his height.
In her misfortune, the ravenette found herself unable to see the familiar head of hair, and the stickiness of her skin spoke for itself.
Did they abandon her? She could make up her mind and run now. But where would she hide? She doubted she knew this part of the city from what she'd seen out of the car window.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and lowered herself to her feet. Turning around, she came face to face with a pale man, much taller than her. His hair slicked back, a dark stubble prominent on his chin. On his lips played a smile that sent shivers down Bernadette’s spine. Familiar but ungraspable.
One thing for sure, this man wasn’t Antonio.
“Mind if I buy you a drink?” his voice rose over the beating music, sickly sweet. Bernadette tried to force a smile upon her neutral expression as she shook her head. She didn’t feel too good about this.
“No need,” she rose her voice back over the music, "I'm actually searching for someone."
His eyes crinkled as he tried to suppress a snarl and Bernadette could do nothing but pray that her legs don’t start buckling, she feels lightheaded.
“No! No! I insist, at least sit with me. This place is rather crowded, you never know what someone's up to,” glee returned to his face. Before she could say no, he grasped her right wrist and started dragging her away from the crowd. A scream stuck in her throat (even in such a situation, she felt too embarrassed to scream), she tried to jerk her arm away. The man persisted, dragging her to a long front bar, behind which three bartenders worked without pausing to look at the two.
Bernadette’s tense shoulders slacked as a familiar ginger mop of hair came to her view, albeit far from where the man led her. She prayed Melina saw her too (she msut've), and would get her out of the predicament soon enough.
Tapping a bar stool beside his, he urged her to sit with him. Her reluctance faded, trying to seem as natural to the man as possible.
Unaware of when he’d ordered the drink, he pulled Bernadette back to reality from a daydream as he started nagging, pushing a drink towards her. Shit, she should've watched it be prepared. She stole glances back across the bar, she needs to come now, it's gonna be bad.
“C’mon! I don’t think you’ve had a drink yet. Trust me, it’s more fun when you got some in your system,” he pushed the glass to her across the bar.
She caught the glass as it slid towards her with her right, her left clenching in her lap (as weak as it was). It felt like somewhat of a coping mechanism, feeling the blade up to her skin, it’s presence welcome this time around. But she wouldn't use it.
The man’s eyes squinted, but one could see the malice for miles. As she stalled on the drink, she saw his expression contort. She braced herself.
“Hey, trust me, buddy. I’m just a friend of ya hubby, hope ya still remember,” his voice had changed from smooth to loud and obnoxious, his movements manic as he reached towards Bernadette.
She tilted back. As he moved in, an arm clasped around his neck. A knife came to rest on the right side of his throat.
Just as the ravenette went in to take a deep breath she’d been holding for how long, an arm clasped around her own throat. A cold pressure applied to her chest. The knife made a hole through the fabric of her shirt with ease and rested just at the end of her windpipe.
Bernadette's breath stopped in her throat. The two attackers looked each other in the eyes. Antonio’s stern stare shifted between Bernadette and the man who held her at knifepoint.
Under stress, her head throbbed. Her vision went blurry, almost as if losing consciousness. Gripping the knife tucked in her right side bandages, she yanked it out, cutting the skin on her side with urgency.
The knife thrust right into the other man's knife-wielding wrist. Puncturing between the dual bones, it thrust out bloody on the other side. His fingers twitched around the blade, causing it to clatter down with a shriek.
The blurriness cleared, Bernadette barely taking in the situation (she really wished she didn't). She yanked the knife out before staggering out of the loose grip. Turning the blade in her arm, almost dropping it as her head swam, she aimed to his side. The knife didn’t puncture deep, Bernadette’s vision cleared before it could.
Blood stained her shirt, a man letting out loud whines behind her. Her irises the size of saucers, Bernadette feared turning around to witness it. The music in the club continued, but the amount of people lessened, everyone turned to the grizzly sight before them.
“You guys are that weak?” Antonio inquired the man he held in his grip. The man’s eyes had become bloodshot over the scene witnessed. Antonio uttered something under his breath. What stopped him at that moment, looking behind Bernadette's dizzy frame, made his eyes widen.
A click sounded before Bernadette. A gun cocked.
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