It wasn't what she expected, honestly.
She blinked to let her eyes adjust to the brightness of the room. Everything was white and blinding, offset with black accessories, the decor modern and fancy. The carpet was shag and white, the couches were white along with the walls, shelves and tables.
There were black curtains to imaginary windows, black pillows, vases and large canvases coated with noting but black paint hanging on the walls.
To Isla, the room looked like what she would imagine a flat to be. The living room was clean and pristine while a bar separated the kitchen from the rest of the room. A long glass dining table was set up near the kitchen with six black and white chairs surrounding it.
It was marvelous.
"This is your new home, Dr. Hollande." Damien smiled. "Well, it's really my home, but you can share it with me, since you will be tending to me until I reach optimum health." he smiled.
Vanessa pushed him to the nearest couch, his IVs rattling as she crossed the carpet. Isla followed cautiously, standing before him.
"Well, help him to the couch." Vanessa snapped. Isla looked up at her. She could already tell that Vanessa was going to be a problem.
Isla did as she was told. Her first step was to gain their trust so that she might gain in their ranks next.
"Grab my arms." she instructed him as she slid her arms under his, pulling him close to her chest. She lifted Damien as best as she could, laying him softly on the couch.
Trying to stand, she realized that he still had hold of her. "You can let go now, you're stable."
"Not up here." he whispered, glee in his eyes as he put his index finger to his temple. He held her for a moment longer, then let her go. She stepped back, unnerved and trying to avoid all eye contact, then took a seat in the armchair that faced the couch.
It was plush and comfortable. If she was going to be a hostage, she was going to be comfortable.
"Boss," came a thuggish voice from the elevator. A large man in jeans and a loud Hawaiian shirt stomped into the room, dragging a smaller man in a suit. Well, anyone would be considered small next to the man in the loud shirt.
"Please!" the smaller man shrieked. He was a little beat up, a trickle of blood flowing down his forehead. Isla could definitely tell that he was a family man. What was he doing here?
"Donnovan! What a pleasure!" Damian said. He sat up as best he could, struggling against the pillows with his elbows. Vanessa bent and held him by his arm.
"D-d-don't! I really didn't do it, D-D-Damien!" the man cried, he was on his knees now, begging Damien to listen to him, his face buried into the carpet.
"Don't snivel, Donnovan, you're much better than that." Damien insisted, but as he said this, he put his feet on Donnovans back. Isla looked at Damien from the corner of her eye. Was he playing with this man?
"I didn't tell them, I swear."
"You're the reason why I was in the hospital in the first place, Donnovan." Damien said, digging his heels deeper into the mans back. "Although I can't be that mad at you."
Donnovan stopped squirming for a moment, surprised.
"Because of you, I met this lovely lady here." Damien motioned to Isla. She sat up straighter as everyone turned to face her. She didn't want any part of this. She was just here to nurse this murderer to health, not to kill.
"But still, you should be punished, shouldn't you, Donnovan?"
"No!" he screamed, squirming under Damiens feet. Damien only laughed, a crazy and jittery laugh that sent shivers down Islas spine.
"Do you have a pen?" Damien asked, leaning forward into Donnovans ear.
He froze, except for his shaking. "Y-yes." he whispered.
"Well....GIVE IT TO ME!" Damien yelled into Donnovans face. Isla could see the spit flying from his mouth. She wrinkled her nose as she noticed that Donnovan wasn't the only one shaking.
He pulled a pen from the inside of his coat pocket and handed it to Damien, his eyes jumping from his face to his hands. He reminded Isla of a dog who just pissed on the carpet in front of his master.
"Thank you." Damien said curtly. He clicked the pen into its writing position, then swiftly plunged the sharp end into Donnovans back.
The screams shattered her ears, and she tried as hard as she could to block the sounds with her hands. She closed her eyes and turned her back on the scene in front of her.
Damien was plunging the pen into Donnovans back over and over, his hand ripping gaping and bloody lines into his flesh. Even though she couldn't see the mess behind her, she could smell the blood in the air and feel Donovan slamming his body into the coffee table and floor over and over.
Finally, the screaming stopped, and Donnovan no longer moved. Isla turned around slowly, scared of what she would see. Damien was hunched over on the edge of the couch, gasping for air. She could hear his tiny giggles, broken but sickeningly gleeful.
Islas eyes then moved to Donnovan, his corpse staining the white carpet a deep crimson. There were red splatters on the white couch, and as her eyes followed the stains, on her legs and feet as as well.
She turned her head and threw up on the other side of the couch, not being able restrain herself. It wasn't because of the blood on her legs. No, she was used to that in her occupation.
It was because of the fact that she had just witnessed a murder, not two feet away from her.
"Now go to your room and think about what you've done." Damien laughed, kicking the corpse over onto its back.