Twisted Returns

I jerk my hand away from the book as if it was an open flame.

I freeze in place, heart thumping, waiting for the announcement. It doesn't come. The bell just keeps screeching over and over.

My mind tells me to get the hell out of here. My hands shake uncontrollably. I inwardly curse myself for being so fucking stupid. If Marigold wants to keep a secret, she will. Why did it not occur to me that the book would be protected by some kind of alarm?

The blaring of the alarm continues and my eardrums scream in protest. I get the urge to cover my ears with my hands.

But there's no time for anything like that. I have to get as far away from this study as I can. Of course, I would have to confess to my crime later, but still...

I also have to get myself away from this sound before it drives me insane. Surely it must not be ringing in other parts of the palace, since it doesn't apply to them.

I fix everything, move the shelf back, and sprint through the door. I run down the narrow staircase, nearly tripping over my own feet.

The bell still screeches in the hallway. Of course, it's a small, secluded corridor. It must not be on in the main hallways.

And once I get there, I can't hear the alarm. Not because it's not ringing. But because of all the chaos.

People scatter, flooding the hallway in pandemonium. Running.

They're all running in the same direction. To my right - away from the residential wing. They're all workers, servants - the lowest of the low in the palace (which still isn't that low).

Blood pounding in my ears, I realize that I had not set off the alarm. That there is some other danger here.

"What are you running from?" I shout to passersby, hoping that they can hear me.

"Not from, to!" someone shouts back at me. Which proves to me how urgent this really is - they didn't go through formalities when speaking to me. Not that I really mind.

It also proves that the danger is not in the residential wing. Before I know it, my feet are bringing me to the left - against the flow.

It isn't as difficult as I thought it would be. Apparently, when you're important, people will make space for you. No matter how cramped they'll be.

I keep walking, and people keep pouring out of doors. The crowd is thinning a bit, but not by much. I never realized how many people live here. It makes me sick to think of the reason for their panic.

Up ahead, I can see a gap in the crowd. Immediately I wonder if someone had been trampled. But then I see his face. Taller than mostly everyone else, I recognize him right away.

"Dean!" I shriek. But he doesn't hear my scream, drowned out by the bell. "Dean!"

I pick up my pace. The crowd parts, letting me through.

"Dana!" he shouts, nearly inaudible. From there, I sprint into his arms, my face basically slamming into his chest. It hurts, and it must have hurt him too, but I don't care. I'm shaking so much that I can barely hold myself up.

"Dean, what's -" My words are cut off by the emergency bell. This time, it actually causes everyone to stop in their tracks to cover their ears. The sound is unbearable, like the bell is shrieking in agony.

It must have been its final death cry, because it stops there. People start running again.

"I don't know what's going on," he says, his voice panicked. Which is bad. "I just left the room. I went to look for you and I thought you might have gone back to your old room to get something or whatever. So I went to look there. And then the bell started ringing."

"What else do you know?"

"Nothing. Other than the fact that it's not safe."

Just then, Marigold's voice comes over the intercom. "The hospital has been bombed. Code black. I repeat, the hospital has been bombed. Code black."

Hospital. Bombed. Hospital. Bombed. The words repeat in my head, like a scratched up CD.

I really think I'm going to vomit.

"Let's go," Dean says, grabbing my wrist. "We're not safe here. We have to go to our room."

I think I nod, but I'm not sure. He pulls me along. Hospital. Bombed. Lorraine. No, no, no...

"Lorraine," I say, my voice cracking, mangling her pretty name like the bombs probably mangled her pretty body.

"If we've lost her, we've lost her," he says firmly. "But we have to go."

He's right. I walk, the world a blur around me. Left. Right. Breathe.

They say that when you die, your life plays out before your eyes. They're right, I know. And I'm not even the one dying.

Memories of Lorraine flash before my eyes. The good times, the bad times. Bits and pieces come together.

I see her laughing, her crying. All the little things that make her Lorraine. Gone.

This isn't like Aaron. Because I didn't know him. Not inside and out, the way I knew her.

Left. Right. Breathe. I didn't even visit her. Not after that fight, that argument. I would have never guessed that it would be the last time that I would see her.

The world doesn't make sense anymore. People running, panicking. To my eyes, they are nothing more than just shapes and colors. Their words, nothing but noise. They don't mean anything to me. They're just sounds.

And in my head, I'm screaming.

Dean takes us the long way around, avoiding the hospital. I don't protest.

He leads me slowly down the staircase, so I don't trip. Not that it would matter if I did anyways.

I see her in everyone we pass. The panicked people all have her eyes. Some have her hair. Others, her body. I find myself looking for these qualities. How masochistic.

Servants are servants. Workers are workers. People are themselves. Not Lorraine. They have their own identities. They aren't her.

Left. Right. Breathe. I can see everything a bit more clearly now. I don't see her anymore. Because she's gone. Dead.

We head into the training room. The first floor is full of soldiers preparing for battle. I briefly look over at them, wishing them well. Wishing for them to avenge the death of my best friend.

And that's when I freeze in place.