"Ok, Princess, nap-time's over."

She shot striaght up, a surprised look on her face. Where was she?

Isla looked around her, bewildered. It appeared that she was in a fancy sort of bedroom, a thick feather comforter surrounding her where she sat on the bed. It took her a moment to remember what exactly had happened, but even then, she still couldn't believe that it wasn't a dream.

The man in the doorway, an average looking guy with a harmless enough appearance, seemed to be the one to wake her.

"What?" she asked. Isla was still a little groggy.

"Boss-man is asking for you to join him for dinner." the man informed her. "I wouldn't decline if I were you, but it's entirely your choice." The man dusted his coat sleeve with a heavy hand and looked at her with lazy eyes.

It took Isla a moment to comprehend what he was saying, and another moment to produce the words. "S-sure. Just, give me a second." The man gave her one last glance then left the room, closing the door behind him.

'Could it feel more like a cheesy mobster movie?' She thought.

   Isla slowly slid from the gigantic bed, her feet landing softly on the hard carpet. She was barefoot, and she could still see the tiny blood splatters on her legs, dried brown freckles to remind her of exactly what she was dealing with. She could feel the blood rush to her head again, but she stopped and took a few deep breaths. This wasn't the time to be girlish and frail, this was a time to be strong and cunning.

   But she couldn't lie to herself: she was scared to death. Who wouldn't be? She was about to dine with a murderer and his psychotic love interest. She could feel the acid in her stomach churning at the thought.

   Isla looked around for her shoes, but they were no where in sight. She shuddered at the thought of having to face this danger in bare feet, but what else was she to do? Quietly, she opened the bedroom door. She expected an empty hallway, but instead, was facing the man who had woke her.

   "Right this way, Princess," he sighed, leading her down the hall and into the main room. Isla looked at the back of the mans brown leather jacket with suspicion. He seemed different than the others; he acted as if he didn't want to be here. Or maybe just having the job of retrieving the 'temp' was less than exciting to him.

   The strong smell of cleaner and blood hit Isla like a train as they entered the room. The scent was very familiar to her as a surgeon, and it gave her a sickening sense of nostalgia. She would never be able to help people ever again, not after this. Her license would be revoked, and everyone would know her as the surgeon who was accomplice to Damein.

   She swallowed her fear. Of course that wouldn't happen, Commissioner Kross would never allow that to happen. They knew each other too well. He knew that she would never want this.

   "Isla! I'm glad to see that you're feeling well enough to join us for dinner!" Damien was sitting at the head of the long glass dinner table, a look of extreme glee on his face. Vanessa was there as well, but her lips were swollen and bloody. She caught Isla looking at her with much concern and shot her an evil glare, then looked down at her empty plate in silence.

"How could I refuse?" Isla stated. She took a seat in the only empty chair at the table. It was directly across from Vanessa. "Are we the only ones to eating?" she asked, looking from Damien to the man who led her from her room. "All of this food for only three people, I mean, it seems-"

Damien suddenly slammed his fists down on the glass tabletop, shaking the plates and causing the silverware to bounce and scatter.

"YOU-" he shouted, then, after a moment, continued, his voice taking a sweeter, much tolerant tone "- do not make the rules here. This dinner was prepared in homage to you, dear Isla. That is why only we are eating now, in your honor." he smiled at her, sickly sweet. The bandages on his face were already falling off, and a strip of gauze hung from his forehead.

"I apologize." Isla mumbled. She heard Vanessa scoff, but didn't acknowledge her. "Thank you, for all that you've done." she continued through gritted teeth.

"No, thank you." he smiled, returning to his courteous demeanor. He lifted a wine glass for a toast, and Vanessa followed suit. Isla thought it a good idea to as well. "To Isla, for being my Savior with a scalpel." he chuckled, then sipped the wine. It was disgusting and creepy, but Isla drank to her own toast.

"Now, for the main course."


The End

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