Chapter Text
The funny thing about pain is that it isn’t ashamed to be exactly what it is; disastrous, wistful, egocentric. Behind every story mark carved into skin, pain is there to steal the glory. It sighs into ears and invites the desperate back to bed—and they comply, because loving something broken is better than nothing at all.
Laura Hollis never knew much about pain. Not until Carmilla Karnstein came along.
“Alright, Lolita, time to make yourself useful.” Mattie burst through the door, a semi-conscious Carmilla tucked into her side. She was struggling to carry the vampire as she made her way to Laura. “Well, don’t just sit there gawking at us, get off your ass and help us!”
Carmilla attempted to speak as the two women moved her to the desk, the words falling from her lips in unintelligible undertones. She embodied death; her already fair complexion displayed an eerily ashen demeanor from the abrupt loss of blood. Her body betrayed her, trembling as the hole in her chest trailed crimson stains across her shirt. It was just another caustic reminder of her constant dance with fate—that elegant whore, salting wounds with a wry chuckle.
“I need your help,“ Mattie spat, her anger at the current state of affairs searing through Laura’s being. Her countenance lacked her usual confidence, now replaced with a genuine look of agonized panic.
Laura was still lost in her state of shock. This situation was something out of her worst nightmares; if she closed her eyes hard enough, maybe it would go back to be being just that—a nightmare. She sat in panicked silence, willing all of it away as she held the back of Carmilla’s head in the palm of her hand.
“Laura,” Mattie started in once again, her near-depleted patience hanging by a thread. More so than ever, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with children and their lack of applicable life skills. “Any assistance would be wonderful.”
The journalist didn’t miss the rancor dripping from Mattie’s words. She shook herself out of her mental prostration, worried eyes darting past a bleeding Carmilla as she trained them on Mattie.
“And what on earth do you expect me to do, my liege? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to pencil in pre-med between a giant, stupid anglerfish and an elderly German man who’s currently giving Orwell a run for his money.”
It was in that moment that Carmilla lurched forward, her body convulsing as her jaw went slack. Her head hung low, and Laura could see blood dripping from the corners of her mouth as it fell in drops to the desk. The vampire’s arms, still draped around both Mattie and Laura, lost what little tension they held.
Carmilla was slipping; what little life she clung to was reeling on a dark precipice.
“Oh, no no no.” Laura was quickly reaching her breaking point. She had already briefly experienced a reality where Carmilla died, and she wasn’t ready dive back into another one; a love lost twice was perhaps too much for any one woman to handle.
“Come on, you stupid vampire.” Laura’s mind sifted through years of information her father imparted on her in an attempt to pinpoint something—anything—that could aid in the current crisis.
Female. Chest wound. Arrow to the heart.
It was only days ago that Laura convinced herself that Cupid carried a gun; he must have lent his bow to someone far more savage.
Female. Chest wound. Arrow to the heart. The arrow in Mattie’s hand—the broken arrow.
The broken arrow whose silver head still made a home in Carmilla’s chest cavity.
Oh, crap.
“We need to lay her down.” Laura was on her feet in an instant, Carmilla’s arm still draped over her shoulder. Mattie only glared and followed her lead, gripping her sister’s waist as she and Laura bore the brunt of Carmilla’s weight and dragged her semi-conscious body to the couch.
Once Carmilla was situated, blood stained arms falling slack to the floor, Laura couldn’t help but give her body another once-over. She looked so small—smaller than Laura imagined the centuries old woman could ever appear. With blood leaking from her chest and sunken eyes of black steel, Carmilla didn’t look immortal. She looked like an eighteen-year-old girl, lost in too big a world.
Broken. Defeated.
“What happened?” Laura was kneeling at Carmilla’s side, carefully brushing the vampire’s hair away to inspect the seeping wound.
“We were tracking some of Vordenberg’s souped-up henchbro’s across the North Quad,” Mattie began, an air of exasperation overtaking her tone. “It was a trap. They lead us into a shooting gallery—arrows everywhere.”
Mattie stepped closer to Carmilla, holding out the arrow in her hand.
“Congratulations,” Laura retorted with disbelief. “You finally got the Summers and the Zetas to cooperate.”
“She managed to drag me into the bushes, but they put an arrow into her chest. I think part of it’s still lodged in there. She needs blood.”
With Laura’s suspicions confirmed, she pointed Mattie to the stored blood packets in the fridge, turning her attention back to her bleeding ex-girlfriend. She wasn’t ready to admit out loud that she had kept the blood in hopes Carmilla would come home.
“Hey,” she whispered softly to Carmilla, her breath coming in heavy, scared bursts. She reached out her hand to gently cup Carmilla’s face, turning it towards her slightly. Laura refused to let her fear take over—but it was putting up one hell of a fight. She needed the shallow rise and fall of the vampire’s chest to be her anchor; in turn, she’d do her best to be Carmilla’s.
Mattie returned in mere seconds, shotgunning a blood bag as she rushed to Carmilla’s side. She tipped the bag into Carmilla’s mouth, squeezing the bottom as she gently coaxed the crimson liquid down her sister’s throat.
“Here’s some liquid courage.” Mattie’s voice was filled with nothing but concern as she stared down at her sister, willing her to move.
Carmilla finally stirred, her eyes fluttering open slightly as she grimaced at the alarming amount of blood in her mouth. It took her a moment to realize most of it wasn’t her own.
“Where did you bring me?” Carmilla’s voice came out in a dissonant whisper, pain lacing her features with every word. Her head bobbed slowly as she tried to take in her surroundings, turning enough to meet Laura’s eyes.
“Oh, perfect.” Carmilla may have been the one with the wound, but Laura couldn’t help but feel like her own heart had been ripped from her chest. She did her best to plaster on a disaffected guise.
“Yeah, terrific to see you too,” Laura spoke with a hint of trepidation. She was desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere; Carmilla was dying—something needed to happen.
“She needs a surgeon… or someone who spends way too much time thinking about human dissection.”
“Terrific,” Mattie began. “Rustle up one of your mad scientists and let’s get this show on the road.” She brushed a lock of hair from Carmilla’s eyes as the vampire squirmed in pain, a slight whimper escaping her lips.
Laura was torn. The bottom line was that without removing the arrowhead, Carmilla would bleed out and die; there was no sugarcoating the harsh reality of their abysmal situation. But Laura couldn’t help but feel weighed down by her sense of overwhelming obligation. She couldn’t let her feelings for Carmilla cloud her judgment. In her mind, the sisters were still in rampage mode—and now they had a free pass back inside the house. Taking into account that the duo was still being hunted by everyone on campus 5’10” or higher, it was a dangerous situation for all involved.
Laura needed leverage, and it came in the form of a dying ex-lover.
“No.” Laura stood firm in her convictions, stepping away from the sisters as she attempted to command an air of authority.
“What?” Mattie was instantly in Laura’s face, her usual angered look of distaste returning to her features. She looked as if she was ready to bleed the journalist dry.
“I’m not risking my friends lives—not until we have an understanding.” She met the vampire’s eyes, her arms falling awkwardly by her side as she spoke with confidence. “You can threaten me all you want, but we both know killing me won’t save Carm.”
She glanced quickly at the girl lying on the couch, her ashen skin looking worse than it did before. Laura had to act quickly. She mustered up the rest of her courage, speaking in a rapid, precise manner.
“I’ll call Laf and JP, and then I will hide you two in here until she recovers. In return, neither of you are going to bite, maim, or kill anyone. At all. For any reason. Understood?”
Left with no choice, Mattie reluctantly agreed.
“Understood. Get your friend.” She didn’t attempt to disguise the bitterness in her voice.
Laura was out of the room in an instant. She felt a pang of guilt over the fact that she used first-aid as leverage, but she had a house full of lives to think about. She was more than aware that Carmilla meant the world to Mattie; it was the only weakness she knew the vampire to possess. If she had to use that against her, so be it. It allowed Laura to have the upper hand in her distressing position. She was getting the better end of an all-around shitty deal.
Safety for her friends. Safety for her love.
Laura soon returned with two gingers and the corporeal flash drive in tow, all of them wiping sleep from their eyes.
“Seriously Laura,” Laf started in, “it is one am—oh, hello to the chest trauma.”
Laura guided the trio over to Carmilla’s place on the couch, lifting the vampire’s body slightly and allowing Laura to lean it against her. Laf took a brief moment to inspect Carmilla’s wound, still leaking blood—a stark contrast against her deathly white skin.
Carmilla’s breath came in shallow, ragged bursts; it was a jarring sight for the young journalist. The only side of Carmilla that Laura ever really knew was strong and indomitable. She always imagined her life ending long before Carmilla’s—but as the raven-haired girl stained her arms red, a part of her was reminded that time betrayed everyone; you can only escape Death’s gaze for so long.
Laf and JP took a moment to chat seriously about their surgical plan while prepping Carmilla, but Laura could barely make out exactly what they were speaking of. The most she heard from the conversation was something about ether and an uncanny ability to clean and jerk a Mazda.
“Laur,” Laf began, looking to the girl with sympathetic eyes. “You should probably go take a seat.” She pointed to the desk with her pliers, hoping Laura’s stubbornness would momentarily take a backseat.
Laura only nodded, brushing one last strand of hair from Carmilla’s neck and chastly kissing it as she laid her back down. It was the most contact the two had shared in what seemed like a lifetime; Laura yearned for it to be under different circumstances. She knew no other way to express her conflicting emotions—but if she had to face repercussions for it, she’d do so willingly.
Whatever ether Laf supplied Carmilla did little to deter her fighting spirit. The minute Laf’s hands entered the vampire, a loud groan tore through the room. It was as if a second wave of life overcame Carmilla, and she gripped the edge of the couch, gritting her teeth as the inexperienced pseudo-surgeon prodded at the wound in her chest.
Laura could do nothing but watch as Carmilla writhed on the couch, blood pouring from her wound while Laf and JP worked to remove the arrowhead. Everything was happening too fast; her mind was reeling, attempting to process every action taking place. She felt the weight of the room’s agony resting on her shoulders, digging itself deep into her bones like tainted marrow.
Mattie stood off in the corner, her eyes boring into Laf as they continued their work. Her hands were balled into fists, tightening with each strangled noise of agony that escaped Carmilla’s lips.
“Got it!” Laf shouted, disrupting the near-tangible tension that filled the air. The redhead covered the gaping hole in Carmilla’s chest and moved to where Laura sat. The journalist let out a heavy breath, finally realizing she’d hardly employed her lungs throughout the procedure. She wanted to feel an irrepressible sense of relief, but it was all too much to handle. As she got up to move to Carmilla, Mattie sidestepped into her path. It was a delicate exhortation to stay away; a lucid reminder that Carmilla didn’t need Laura.
Mattie strode to Laf’s side, her deft hands whisking the arrowhead from the their bloodied palms. She inspected it as she made her way to Carmilla, searching for any further signs of foul play. When she reached her sister, she knelt down beside her and whispered softly in her ear, her hand sweetly combing through Carmilla’s dark, tangled curls. Laura watched with anguished eyes, wishing to be the one Carmilla needed. She craved nothing more than to be the one Carmilla wanted.
Laura could pretend she was over Carmilla all she wanted, but she’d never be able to fool anyone. The sting in her eyes and the ache in every resounding heartbeat rattling through her chest was all the proof of that.
“I’ve never operated on a live specimen,” Laf remarked, a smug look crossing their face. They never had a victim of their science put up a fight, and it was more than evident in the beads of sweat they proceeded to wipe from their forehead.
“Brilliant improvisation,” Mattie spat in retort, the mockery in her words almost tangible. “Truly masterful.”
The sarcasm clearing their head, Laf continued on, their pride still in full effect.
“Yeah, I wanted to teach a seminar on reanimation methods, but the administration said I ‘wasn’t allowed to conduct non-sponsored workshops that levied exorbitant fees not directly credited to the University.’ I mean, I was only going to ask for donations… someone stole my favorite proctoscope.” They ran a hand through a tuft of orange hair before shrugging and returning to Carmilla’s side; they needed to make sure the wound was properly cleaned and bandaged before they retired back to bed.
Carmilla laid half-conscious on the couch, her chest finding a healthy rhythm. With the arrowhead out, the group hoped her recovery would be swift.
Silence fell as one by one, everyone cleared the room, leaving a sulking Laura to listen to the sisters chat quietly to each other. But the awkwardness didn’t last long, as it was disrupted by Perry as she burst through the door, consternation lining her face.
“Perry,” Laura started, snapping out of her internal abstraction. “I thought we were going to talk later?”
“We don’t have time for that… the Stormtroopers are coming.”
Mattie was up in an instant, lifting up a groaning Carmilla.
“Hot chocolate girl,” she demanded, “make yourself useful and hide this mess.” She nodded to the couch as she used her foot to sweep away a rug lining the floor, revealing an almost indiscernible door.
The trap doors. The secret passages. Laf was right.
Mattie crouched down with Carmilla still clinging to her side and threw open the door with ease, allowing the pair to slip inside.
“Mattie, I’m not a damned rag doll,” Carmilla growled, clearly unimpressed with her current flouncing.
“There’s no need to be grumpy, dear. We’ll have you out soon—as long as these imbeciles can keep their traps sealed.” Mattie glared up at Laura, her eyes conveying nothing but contempt.
“You’d be grumpy too if some lackwit with a crossbow shot you in the tit,” Carmilla replied as she edged her body deeper into the passage, leaning on Mattie for support.
The last thing the room heard from the vampires as the trap door closed was a warm, throaty laugh from Mattie. She was all too happy to have Carmilla back.
If only Laura could, too.