A bullet zips past your head, and instinctively, you dive to the floor, scrambling for cover under the desk as chaos erupts around you.
Curling into yourself, eyes shut tight, you pray for the nightmare to end.
Moments later, the noise fades. A loud thud follows, then the warm sensation of liquid pooling beneath you.
Your ears are still ringing, and the agents' voices seem distant, muffled by the shock. One of them crouches beside you, but you can't move.
For a moment, you're frozen in place.
"Miss Rose, we need to get you out of here. It's over," an agent says softly, kneeling at your side.
Opening your eyes, you see the gunman lying on the floor, body twitching, gun discarded, with blood steadily flowing toward you, soaking into your jacket.
Relief starts to creep in, but the weight of everything presses heavily on your chest.
You follow the flow of blood until you're looking down at your arm, where it's slowly staining your jacket. Your nerves suddenly ignite, a shiver racing through your body, though the only thing you feel is the floor's pressure beneath you.
Refusing the agent's help, you shakily gather the scattered papers and grab your phone, keeping your eyes locked on the body.
Who were they really after?
Maybe they were the ones who shot Kamala.
"Miss Rose, we have to get you out of here. We've been instructed to take you to Miss Harris's campaign headquarters for a meeting with Vanessa Young" the agent says, their formal tone returning as they step into your line of sight.
It pulls your attention away-thankfully.
You look at them, but their tinted glasses obscure their eyes. Not that it would matter-nothing could calm you down right now, not after the day you've had.
"Yes, we should leave as soon as possible. Who knows who'll try to get these papers again," you say with a forced smile, glancing down.
Your breath catches in your throat as you realize your hands are still stained. You can feel the blood, now cooling, slowly trying to seep through to your skin.
"Yes, ma'am," the agent replies, ushering you out of the room.
Your legs feel heavy, and your hands tremble as your heels click against the floor while you walk.
Is this your life now? Uncertainty, fear, and the constant anxiety of what might happen next? The thought lingers as you quietly slip into the back seat of the SUV.
It's two in the morning, and you haven't slept a wink. It's hard to believe Vanessa is even awake for this meeting. How many others are up, just like you, on the edge of their seats?
You unlock your phone, your eyes quickly scanning the hundreds of unread notifications. You wonder what people are saying now. Clicking on one of the notifications from Kamala's HQ, you wait for it to load.
A simple post from Kamala HQ appears, and your chest tightens.

You scroll through the responses.

Some comments are condescending, some enraging, and some downright inappropriate. A shiver runs down your spine when you notice one particular profile picture.
You can't seem to stop yourself. You check Kamala's other accounts, clicking on her vice-presidential one. Another post-same picture, different statement.
Different responses, too.


You wonder how some people are allowed to vote.
Finally, you find yourself pulled to her last account. Kamala Harris, her profile picture, her stunning smile.
You examine her face in the small circle, her eyes gleam with joy as she stares into the distance. You'd wonder if she'd smile the same after today.

You pause and stare at that post, your ears hearing her voice read it to you in fading verses. The responses don't shock you anymore, just make you wonder what you'd see in the news in the coming days.

Your mind doesn't seem to understand you haven't written this one like you'd done the rest.
In light of recent events surrounding Vice President Kamala Harris, the Office of the Vice President understands the concerns and questions being raised by the public. However, at this time, we are unable to confirm or deny the various reports regarding her health and status due to the sensitive nature of an ongoing federal investigation. The Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) has launched a comprehensive inquiry into the circumstances of the incident that took place. This investigation involves multiple factors, including threats to national security and potential breaches of protocol, which require thorough examination. The safety and security of the Vice President, as well as that of her family and staff, remain our highest priority. We understand the desire for transparency and the importance of keeping the public informed. However, releasing information prematurely could compromise the investigation and the safety of those involved. Therefore, we are working closely with federal authorities to ensure that any communication is accurate and does not jeopardize ongoing efforts to secure the full truth. We ask for your patience and understanding as we navigate this delicate situation. Updates will be provided as soon as it is appropriate and safe to do so. We remain committed to the well-being of the Vice President and the nation, and we will ensure that the American people are kept informed once the necessary investigations allow.
Thank you for your continued support and understanding.
Sincerely,
Office of the Vice President
As you finish reading and look up from your phone, you realize you've arrived at her headquarters. There were still at least ten cars parked in this lot, obviously having been there for many hours.
You wait as the driver parks and comes to open the door for you, when you step out your heels plant into the ground with ease. You can feel the tension roll up your spine as you begin to walk toward the entrance, your grip tightening on the papers, you stuff your phone into your pocket.
Your hand grasped firmly around the door.
You give the slightest pull and hear as air rushes between the tiny crack, small chatter heard deeper within.
As the door creaks open, you step inside, gripping the papers tightly. The faint murmurs of conversation echo through the dimly lit room, and the tension in the air is palpable. You move forward, the weight of the night's events pressing heavily on your shoulders.
Each step toward the heart of the headquarters feels like wading through thick fog, your mind still replaying the chaos from Kamala's office, the intruder, the blood, the gunshots.
The overwhelming stress gnaws at you, but there's no time to fall apart now-not when you're so close to handing over these papers.
Your hands shake as you walk inside. It dawns on you that you look worse than you did before, your shirt and hands discolored, your jacket stained, your hair back to its natural state as everyone's attention is drawn to you.
Before you have time to look among the few people the room is silent, the TV's the only sound playing faint early morning reports, one even talking about the online discourse.
"Good evening... turmoil tonight following the attempted assassination..."
You hear as you turn to face them, you bring the papers in front of you and flip them over so they can't see their contents, your dry lips crack as you attempt to speak to them
You'd just spoken to agents before, but your jaw felt locked in place as you began.
"I- I can't tell you much, but I've been attacked and so has Kamala in the matter of two days...and I-" You say looking down at your feet, your eyes welling with tears
"...some claiming the attack was staged, a political stunt, gaining traction online..."
Pain shoots through your heart.
"I-I know that it's selfish of me to keep t-the...truth from you all but I have to, thank you for being concerned" You stammer out as you see Vanessa weaving through the crowd.
Your world began to spin around you, your attempt at speaking growing into strained gasps for breath.
"...concern over her safety and well-being from others growing..."
"I-These papers, a-re what we should be concerned about...should have been concerned about" You say as you see a tear fall from your eye, its dull sound of hitting the concrete beneath you sending you spiraling
Your breath hitches as you begin to breathe heavily. You look up at all of them, their faces twisted in varying concern. But to you, all you can see is frustration etched into their faces.
"...the divide is stark. Supporters demand answers, while detractors fuel speculation..."
You sharply inhale as you continue. "I should have shared these when we received them, but against my better judgment I didn't, I respected Miss Harris's wishes and..." You say in breathy gasps as you stand before them, almost like a child apologizing for stealing after being caught
"...conspiracy theories spreading like wildfire..." You crumple the papers in your hand
"And..." Your vision blurs
"...officials urge calm as investigations continue..."
"All of this could have been, avoided if I-" You say cry again, your eyes downcast as they stand frozen
"In other news the home of President-Elect Kamala Harris, has been taped off and investigated by police and FBI today as a recent break in had occurred, leading to the death of one believed to be the assailant, information beyond this is unknown at this time."
"AND THAT'S ENOUGH!" You hear Vanessa's voice cut through the ringing in your ears, your attention drawing from the TV to the woman hastily approaching you, hand outreached to take yours
"Miss Rose," she says, her voice filled with urgency. "You have the papers?" she whispers as she pulls you off further away from everyone else
You nod silently, unable to find your words, and hand them over.
As Vanessa flips through the small stack, her brow furrows. You glance around the room, seeing familiar faces in deep discussion, their attention shifting occasionally to you, before they notice your staring.
You lean against the walls, catching your breath as you furiously wipe ever streaming tears off your face.
You don't understand what happened, you didn't have to say any of what you had said. Not only that, but you probably have them believing she's dead.
"Any issues?" Vanessa asks, looking up, her expression hard. She isn't talking about the papers, but you pretend she is, not wanting to answer.
You pause, flashes of the attack swirling in your mind. " There was... an incident. But it's handled." Your voice is steady, though the tremor in your hands betrays your calm.
Vanessa's eyes widened for a second before narrowing. "Handled how?"
You take a deep breath. "The agents took care of it. But you need to move fast. Whoever came for Kamala... they know about these papers too."
Vanessa's expression darkens, and she looks down at the papers. "Alright..." she says quietly.
"We'll, We'll see what we can get from these, we'll have something out before the end of the day... But Jessica, be honest" She says, catching you off guard as you stand to leave
You nod, the weight of what she's about to ask makes you feel the ground will shatter under the pressure.
"If she?" She asked with a shrug, not wanting to say it aloud
You hesitate, wondering if it's the right thing to do, you'd never been told to keep Kamala's condition a secret, but you feel you have to.
If the FBI can't find who these people are, who are trying to get you and Kamala. God knows what they could try next.
"Jessica, trust me... I've been here since day one. I have to know what's happening if I'm going to spin this story right..." She lets her words hang loosely from her lips, her eyes cutting a sharp line into yours as she tries to allure out to her wishes
You snap out of it, if Kamala had someone in her campaign team she was with before you, you know exactly who it is now...
Something about how her voice lowered to a more casual tone as her hand found its way smoothing along your arm, her hands were soft and her warm skin soothed you.
"Please..." she said lowly staring into your eyes
"She's dead-" You say bluntly with a split seconds hesitation
Something doesn't seem right about her.
You quickly adjust your expression to reflect a dread and sorrow in your heart that didn't exist. Something about the way her eyes lit up when she asked and begged you to tell her gave you the same anxiety that leaving those papers locked in the desk did.
You had to do this. If not for Kamala, for yourself.
She gave a slow nod, her expression solemn, but her eyes quick departure from their once steadfast attraction to yours, she wasn't telling you something.
The room quickly became a buzz with a frenetic energy, a dissonant symphony of clattering keyboards and urgent murmurs. Vanessa is a blur of movement, darting between desks after a few hours of work. It is 6:48 a.m. now, her hands gripping a stack of papers as she feeds them into the copier.
The machine's relentless hum is a backdrop to the murmurs of anxious staff discussing what You knew that you weren't telling. You, Jessica, stand in the corner, the weight of recent events pressing heavily on you. Your mind reels from the chaotic night-the intruder, the blood, the gunshots-all blending into a distressing haze.
Vanessa's eyes keep darting towards you as she works, her unease almost palpable. Her hurried, almost frantic movements suggest that she's more than just concerned; she's desperate for information.
Finally, she approaches you, her voice low and edged with urgency. "Jessica, I need to understand what happened at Kamala's house. The sooner we get the full picture, the better we can respond."
You nod slowly, your voice strained. You begin to explain, seeing no reason behind keeping this hidden, "An intruder broke in. He had a key-no broken glass, or anything out of place, they went in through the front door, must've been!? The Secret Service was involved in a shootout with him. It was a mess." Your voice falters as you see Vanessa's intense focus, her eagerness too palpable, too sharp.
Vanessa's face is masked with concern, her eyes betray her, exposing her barely contained anxiety. "And Kamala? How is she?" she asks again. You wonder why she's asking again-you already told her Kamala was dead.
"
""" She's dead," " you reply, standing firm on your words.
"No, she's not! Don't lie to me! There's no way they would've been caught trying to retrieve those papers unless they were told to go back for them... You were too busy at the hospital!" she exclaims, her voice rising to an urgent whisper.
Before you can respond, Vanessa's guard drops, and she mutters in despair, "I used to have a key to her house. This can't be my..."
Her face flushes with guilt and apprehension.
Your heart races. This was no idle comment. "You had a key?" you ask, your voice tight with suspicion. "When did you lose it?"
Vanessa's face pales, and she stammers. "I-I had it for security reasons. But it was returned... two days ago."
Two days ago-the same time as the attack. The coincidence is too striking to ignore. "Returned? What do you mean, returned? Or was it stolen?" Anger flares in your chest as you press further.
"Why did you have the key, and why was it 'returned' just before the attack?" you ask, emphasizing the word 'returned' with air quotes.
You rise to your feet, standing tall, your eyes never leaving Vanessa as she tries to maintain her composure.
Her expression hardens, but her resolve falters. "It's not important. It was just a precaution. We need to focus on the immediate issues now."
But you refuse to let it go. "When exactly did you lose the key? Or return it, whichever it was."
Vanessa grips the edge of the desk, her knuckles white. "I told you-it was returned two days ago. It's a minor detail. We have bigger concerns."
You're starting to understand that whatever happened to the key isn't good.
Leaning closer, your tone grows firmer. "Vanessa, the timing is too coincidental. Why did you have the key in the first place, and where is it now?""
Vanessa avoids your gaze, her face tightening. "Jessica, we don't have time for this. You're wasting precious moments.""
Her evasiveness only deepens your suspicion. The way she's deflecting, the urgency in her voice-it feels wrong. "" Vanessa, if you know something, or if you're involved, I need to know. Kamala's safety-and mine-are at risk."
Vanessa's composure cracks. "Look, it was just a key. It was returned. There's nothing more to it."
You're unconvinced. "Why are you so determined to brush this aside?""
Vanessa's eyes flash with intensity. "Jessica, drop it," she growls, her voice low and threatening.
You see the fear in her eyes, and it's clear she's hiding something. The connection between the key, the timing, and her behavior suggests something more sinister.
As Vanessa resumes her work, you keep a close eye on her. Her movements are jittery, and her attempts to appear busy are almost laughable. You're determined to dig deeper, despite her resistance.
"" Vanessa" Vanessa" Vanessa," you call sharply, catching her attention, "" I can help you if something's going on. Keeping your word, even if it means promising protection to someone who might have gotten your lover killed, could be enough."
Vanessa stiffens and shoots you a glare, filled with both irritation and something darker. "Jessica, I don't know what you're implying, but I've been nothing but professional. This isn't helping."
You push on, your resolve hardening. "If you're hiding something, it could be crucial to understanding what's happening. Kamala's life, and maybe mine, could be at stake."
Vanessa's face pales, and she seems to shrink under your scrutiny. "Jessica, focus on the task at hand. This isn't helping anyone.""
But you don't relent. "When did you really lose the key? Did you just let it slip away? Be honest with me."
Vanessa's gaze flickers nervously around the room. "Jessica, I don't have time for this. You need to trust me. The key isn't important."
Vanessa finishes running the copies and begins distributing them, her movements quick but strained. She casts one last anxious glance in your direction before rejoining the other staff in hurried discussions. The office buzzes with frenetic activity, but you can't shake the feeling that Vanessa's evasiveness is a crucial piece of the puzzle.
You let her go, pretending to be distracted by your phone, plugged into the wall. You sit, legs crossed, eyes downcast, hidden behind a curtain of hair. Through your lashes, you watch the room.
You spot Vanessa slipping out through the back door.
You close your phone, your attention now fully on her. You consider whether to follow her or stay put, but before you decide, you find yourself on your feet, heels clicking across the floor as you attempt to remain calm.
Your face remains neutral, but by the way the room's attention follows you, you know you're basically stomping in your heels.
You open the door and step into the courtyard. Your stomach tightens as you hear Vanessa screaming at someone.
"I'll lose my job and end up in federal prison if Jessica finds out I had anything to do with what happened!" she yells angrily, pacing between the benches, oblivious to your presence.
You stand still, watching as she paces, her face contorted in a mix of fear, regret, and anger. Then, you hear the voice on the other end of her call.
"Vanessa, she won't find out unless you tell her. Just do what she's asking, and we'll handle the rest. Or do you not want to get paid?"
"What good is money if I end up in prison?" she snaps.
"Well, if you try to fuck Jessica like you did with Harris, you might have a chance."
The words hit you like a punch. Kamala had been involved with Vanessa ?
"Marcus, don't say that! You know we didn't... I had to do what I had to do to get the key. I don't think she remembers it anyway."
How could she...
"So make sure you do what you need to do to avoid getting caught. Any news on Harris's condition?" the voice asks, as Vanessa
"What did you do?"" the voice demands.
"NOTHING! It was YOU who sent someone to Kamala's house, and now they're dead!"
"Ron's dead? Damn."
"What did you expect? You sent him there while Jessica was around.""
"We just needed those papers back."
"Marcus, I have the papers."
"She brought them to you?""""
"Jessica wants me to spin a story from them by the end of the day. The team's working on it now. Those papers don't exactly hide Trump's involvement well."
"Make sure they do. I don't care if you have to lie or destroy them. If Trump goes down, so do we. No one gets anything." The call abruptly ends.
"Vanessa stands there, staring at her phone, her face blank, eyes distant.
"Shit, shit, shit!" she mutters, wrapping her arms around her head as she crouches to the ground in a crumpled ball.
You take a moment to decide if you want to confront her or not. It flashes in your mind that she'd said she lost the key, she was lying. She'd been with Kamala, but you feel as though it wasn't at Kamala's liberty.
"Get the hell off the ground Vanessa, nobody gets to breakdown until this is over"
You hear somebody say as you look around trying to find who'd said it. You don't stick around to find out, and slip back into the office. Your face red and your blood boiling as you walk to your phone, snatching it from the charger.
You tap vigorously on the scene as you approach Vanessa's desk, you take the original papers from under a few folders she'd hid them under and fold them under your arm. Your finger finds a contact and dials it as you peer around yourself at everyone watching you.
They look confused, and rightfully so.
Your breathing is ragged, your eyes wide and pupil small, your lip hangs slightly open as you wait for someone to pick up.
"Tim Walz" You hear and almost yell into the phone
"Where are you right now?" You ask without even saying hello, your stride in dead set on the door
"Outside the campaign headquarters? Why, is everything alright"
"No. Um, I'm coming out right now, don't come in here, just take these papers that I give you and take them to the hospital with Kamala." You say as you basically slam the door open and instantly find him among the sparse cars
You walk over to him, your loosely worn clothing swaying in the wind as you step harder and harder into the ground.
Finally, you extend the papers out to him and turn away without a second word, you weren't leaving, you just needed those papers out of there.
"Jessica, what are these for?" He asks, wanting to know what you just gave him, as he looks down at them
"What almost got me and Kamala killed, just take them, don't let anyone else see, touch, or take them to her, YOU DO IT." You say a little as forcefully that you almost feel bad, he gives you a soft nod before sinking back into his car and starting its engine without a second word
You walk silently, eyes trained ahead of you. You see the blurry shape of his car pass you as you go back towards the doors.
You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, and place a hand on the door. The weight of your jacket clings to your shoulders as you go to pull it open, the cool metal beneath your fingers grounding you for just a moment.
WHACK.
Sudden, blinding pain explodes at the back of your skull. Warm blood trickles down your neck, and before you can react, your knees buckle.
You collapse to the ground, hands flying to the point of impact, instinctively trying to shield yourself.
WHACK.
A second blow strikes, even harder. The sharp, jagged pain slices across your face, sending shockwaves of agony through your skull.
The cold concrete presses against your body as your vision begins to blur, consciousness slipping from your grasp.
One final strike.
Darkness engulfs you.
----------------------------------------
Kamala lays in her hospital bed a landline next to her with a few pens and a notebook, no phone, they won't let her have her phone back. The FBI director had come by earlier to talk with her, she wasn't too fond of them and their questions. It hurt more to move than to talk to anyone about what happened.
She lay staring at the various news channels, all speculating about if she died or not, but it wasn't as bad as what they were saying when they found out about her and Jessica.
"Jessica" She said slowly as her hands moved to dial her number on the phone next to her. Her arm felt like it was led as she raised it enough to pull the phone down to herself. Those pain meds don't seem to work well.
She brings the receiver to her ear and listens, a good six rings go by before the calls picked up, the other side of the line silent,
"Jessica, darling, are you there?" She asks as she lowers her eyebrows and listens closer, her other hand moving to mute the hospital TV
"Jess... Darling are you busy I can call b-"
"Oh you're alive?!" She hears a man's voice come through the phone, following the sound of a struggle, and a woman's voice yelling a muffled name.
"Vanessa, VA NESS AAAAA!' Kamala could hear faintly, she could tell it was Jessica
Kamala's heart skipped a beat, her grip tightening on the phone as she listened to the struggle on the other end. The man's voice was sharp, dripping with menace.
"It's a pleasure to get to speak with the vice president," he said, voice almost mocking. "I have to say, you're tougher than I thought. But I didn't plan on you actually surviving that attack. But let's cut the pleasantries, huh? I Know why you're calling your little pet..."
Her blood ran cold. "Who are you? Where's Jessica?" Kamala struggled to keep her voice steady, but her heart was racing, and the pain in her body seemed to flare up, making her wince. "If you've hurt her-"
"Oh, she's alive, but those papers, I need them, or she dies," the man interrupted, his tone casual. "That all depends on you. See, I don't care about your little son stories and your damn, Madam Vice President. I care about the future of this country. And that future is not you sitting pretty in the White House."
Kamala's pulse quickened. "What are you talking about?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about," the man hissed. "You're going to step down. Announce that you're resigning and-oh, you'll love this-endorse Trump for the presidency. Effective immediately."
Kamala's breath caught in her throat. "What kind of sick-"
The man cut her off again. "You think I'm bluffing? You think I won't do it? Listen, sweetheart, this is bigger than you! I HAVE THINGS TO DO AND YOU HAVEN't SOMEONE YOU WANT TO SAVE, RIGHT? They don't know if you're dead. But me? I know... She knows, and I NEED THOSE DAMN PAPERS TO KEEP IT THAT WAY"
Kamala could hear muffled sounds-Jessica's voice, weak, barely audible, as though she were gagged. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear, and rage swirling together.
"Let her go," Kamala demanded, her voice low and dangerous. "This is between you and me. Jessica has nothing to do with this."
"Ah, but she does now," the man said with a sick chuckle. "You see, it's simple. You give up your little dream of running the country and the papers, and Jessica gets to live. If you don't-well, you know how these things go."
Kamala's mind raced, the weight of the demand settling on her like a crushing force. Step down? Endorse Trump? It was madness. Unthinkable.
"END OF THE DAY, YOU STOP YOUR TEAM FROM PUBLISHING THOSE PAPERS." The voice on the other end of the phone was cold and stern. Kamala's eyes flicked to the heart monitor beside her, the steady beeping quickening in sync with her rising anxiety.
The line went dead before she could respond. Her hand, still clutching the phone, trembled as fear and anger welled up inside her. Every possible solution raced through her mind, but nothing seemed clear.
"Kamala?" Tim's voice broke through the silence as he cautiously stepped into the room. "Jessica told me to bring these." He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, the landline still pressed to her ear, her eyes wide in disbelief.
"What's going on?" he asked, moving closer as she slowly returned the phone to its cradle.
"Where were you? Have you talked to Jessica?" she asked, ignoring his question.
"Yeah, she seemed flustered. She asked me to bring these to you," Tim replied, holding the papers out toward her. "Is everything okay?"
Kamala sat up quickly and grabbed the papers, her pulse racing. Her hands shook as she flipped through the documents.
"Did she say anything else?" she asked, her voice tight with anxiety.
"No-well, yes," Tim stammered. "She looked scared. She said these were what nearly got both of you killed. I'm not sure what's happening, but should I be worried?"
"Where is she now?" Kamala's voice faltered, dread sinking deep into her gut.
"She went back into the building. She told me to give these to you immediately and not let anyone else handle them. Should I go back-"
"No!" Kamala cut him off sharply. "Just call the investigator. This doesn't involve you, Tim. I don't want you getting dragged into this."
Groaning in pain, Kamala pushed herself up, gripping the side table for support. Tim rushed to steady her, fear in his eyes.
"Stop this," Tim said firmly. "You're injured. You need time to heal. Let the right people handle this-you're in no shape to do anything right now."
"Tim, move." Kamala's voice was strained but resolute. "This is serious. I can't let you get involved in something you don't understand."
Her legs, weak from days of inactivity, buckled after only a few moments. As she tried to take a step, a wave of dizziness overtook her. Her vision blurred, and before she could react, her legs gave out.
Tim barely caught her as she collapsed, lowering her gently back onto the hospital bed. He sighed, glancing at the papers still clutched in his hand. Without another word, he left the room to find the investigator, hoping they hadn't left the building.
The weight of the situation pressed on him as he hurried down the sterile hospital corridor. He barely noticed the faint hum of the overhead lights or the pale, sterile walls. His mind raced, connecting the dots in a dangerous puzzle. Jessica nearly killed, Kamala collapsing-this was far bigger than he had imagined.
He reached the nurse's station and, breathless, asked, "Where's the investigator assigned to Kamala Harris's case? I need to speak with them right away."
The nurse frowned, eyeing him with concern. "Sir, are you alright? You look pale. Should I call someone?"
Tim shook his head, trying to steady himself. "No, it's important. Please, just tell me where they are."
After a few moments, a tall, gruff-looking investigator approached him. "You were looking for me?" he asked, eyes sharp and suspicious.
"Yes," Tim replied, feeling the pressure to explain. "Kamala's awake, and she asked me to find you. She's frantic-these papers, they're what almost got her and Jessica killed. She wanted to make sure you saw them."
Tim handed the papers over, his hands still trembling. The investigator unfolded the documents, scanning them quickly. His face darkened as he read.
"Jessica Adams? Kamala mentioned her?" the investigator asked, pulling out a notepad.
Tim nodded. "I don't know much. Kamala passed out trying to get out of bed, but she said these papers are critical."
The investigator's brow furrowed. "This changes everything. Show me all of it."
Tim handed him the rest of the documents. The investigator opened one, and his expression grew even more grim.
"Son of a...," he muttered under his breath. His eyes snapped back to Tim. "This is bigger than we thought. There's more to this than the assassination attempt or the break-in."
Before Tim could ask for more details, the investigator turned and rushed down the hallway, already calling his phone.
Tim stood there, his heart pounding. Whatever was happening was beyond his comprehension, and now he was in the thick of it.
Was he in danger?
---
"Tell me where the papers are!" The man's voice was sharp and furious, cutting through the darkness. Your mind was foggy, struggling to regain full consciousness.
Your vision blurred, and as you blinked, two figures loomed over you. A sharp, pounding headache pulse in your skull, and you felt dried blood caked on the back of your head.
Panic surged through you as you realized you were bound-hands tied behind your back, mouth gagged. You tried to scream, but only a muffled sound escaped. The dim light made everything feel surreal, like waking up into a nightmare.
Your muscles strained as you fought against the restraints, every movement sending waves of pain through your body. Eventually, a cramp in your back forced you to stop. Panic hadn't fully taken hold yet, but one thought kept gnawing at you: They wouldn't kill you... right?
A voice cut through the haze. "Marcus, this wasn't part of the plan! I didn't tell her anything! She was just asking questions!" The voice was panicked-Vanessa's.
"Look at the situation, Vanessa," Marcus snapped.
"She's trying to release those papers! And then what? We go to jail!"
There was a tense silence. You could only assume Marcus was waiting for Vanessa to respond.
"Go back in there and stop those papers from getting out!" he barked.
"And then what?" Vanessa shot back, frustrated. "Do we just let her go? Who do you think she'll blame for stuffing her in the trunk of a car?"
So they weren't going to kill you. Not yet, at least.
"Fair point," Marcus muttered. "How about we keep her here until the papers are dealt with? After that, we'll dump her somewhere far out of town."
Vanessa sighed. "Where?"
"I don't know. Somewhere remote," Marcus replied dismissively.
"You handle it. Don't leave her until I call," Vanessa ordered, her heels clacking as she walked away.
Your breathing quickened, and your heart raced as you realized you were on borrowed time.
"Man, you don't tell me what to do. You're the one who got us into this mess!" Marcus spat.
"Fuck your mother, asshole. Just drive, or are you waiting for the cops to show up?" Vanessa fired back, her footsteps growing more distant.
The trunk suddenly clicked open. Blinding sunlight poured in, and you squinted against the harsh glare. A shadow moved in front of you, blocking the light just enough for you to see the figure standing over you.
"Marcus?" you tried to scream, but the gag muffled your words. His signature wireframe glasses caught the light, confirming your suspicion.
"Sorry, Jess, I have to do this," he said, his expression shifting into a grim frown.
"Do what?!" you tried to ask, panic rising in your chest. He began backing away, either ignoring you or unable to understand.
"Do what?!" you screamed, thrashing against your restraints as terror took hold.
Without another word, Marcus slammed the trunk shut, plunging you back into darkness.
Meanwhile, in the office, Vanessa stormed into the room, wiping her hands on her black skirt, trying to hide faint bloodstains.
She walked to the front of the room, her face tight with frustration. The team at their desks looked up, their faces reflecting a growing sense of dread.
"Nobody publishes those papers, understand?" she commanded, her tone sharp.
Everyone exchanged nervous glances.
"But... we already did," someone murmured from the back.
Vanessa's eyes widened. "Shit." She cursed under her breath, running her hands through her hair. "Shit, shit, shit!" She paced back and forth before yanking her phone from her pocket.
With trembling fingers, she dialed Marcus. The phone rang, and she waited, anxiety crawling up her spine.
"Hello?" Marcus answered, the background noise of the freeway filling the line.
"Kill her," Vanessa said, her voice low but resolute. Her heart pounded as the words left her mouth.
"What?!"
"KILL. JESSICA. NOW," she repeated, her voice more urgent. She pulled the phone away from her ear and screamed into it.
"Why? What changed? You said we'd keep her and dump her later."
"Yeah, but the papers were released. She's the only one who can link us to this. If we don't get rid of her, we're done. We need to disappear. Let Trump go down by himself. The money isn't worth prison!" Vanessa spat, her panic creeping into every word.
Marcus sighed on the other end. "But... two million each...?"
"HE'S GOT LEGAL ISSUES AND CLAIMS HE'S BROKE! We're not getting paid, Marcus! We're being used! Why do you think we never get answers when we call?" Vanessa snapped, her voice rising.
For a moment, Vanessa's own thoughts threatened to overwhelm her. She was in way over her head. The promise of money had blinded her, but the looming threat of prison was far more real. She had done terrible things-sabotaging Kamala's campaign, leaking secrets. Marcus had just stolen some money, but she'd orchestrated the real damage.
"J-Vanessa, I don't think I can kill someone," Marcus stammered.
"Well, try, damn it!" she yelled, just as her phone buzzed with another incoming call.
It was the Pumpkin.
"The Pumpkin's calling," Marcus said, dread thick in his voice.
"Pick up. We'll figure something out," Vanessa muttered, fear and desperation clawing at her.
She stood out front of the door, her hands shaking and her body cold as she looked back and forth around the parking lot.
"Shit, shit, shit" She said as she ran her hands through her hair, she was growing increasingly anxious as her mind began to race over everything she's done.
The moment shed meant Kamala.
The moment she'd started working on her campaign.
The moment they kissed.
The moment she had the chance, and she took it, and all for what.
She'd done so much to Kamala, she'd done so much to Jessica in such a short time, and if Trump went down she knew he'd be sure that he didn't go down alone.
Her head dropped into her hands as she tried to make tears come to her eyes, she hoped that her tears would bring her forgiveness, wake her up from this dream.
It only made her feel worse. She was a monster, she chose to be one, but she had to deal with it.
March 22nd, 2024
"Kamala? Can I ask you something?" Vanessa leaned in, her voice cutting through the thrum of music that vibrated the very walls of the dimly lit bar. Glasses clinked and laughter filled the space, the chaos of the night masking her real intentions.
Kamala, well past the point of sobriety, barely registered the question. She had just ordered another drink, her words slurred and movements loose, as though gravity had only a faint grip on her.
"Y-yes, darling..." Kamala dragged out the words, her head swinging lazily toward Vanessa with a dopey smile. Her eyes, glassy and bloodshot, struggled to focus, and her expression bordered on vacant.
Vanessa smiled, her gaze sharp as she observed Kamala's state. She was right where she needed her: drunk, vulnerable, and oblivious.
"How are you feeling right now?" Vanessa asked, her voice dropping into a honeyed tone. She leaned in closer, her fingers toying idly with the rim of her glass, a slow, seductive gesture. Her eyes never left Kamala's, gauging her reaction carefully.
Kamala blinked, trying to process the question, but everything felt too fuzzy, too distant. "A-amazing... like I'm floating on... on air," she mumbled, giggling to herself as she took another unsteady sip. Her coordination was slipping, and the drink sloshed dangerously near the rim.
Vanessa's eyes flicked down briefly to Kamala's glass, ensuring the drug she'd slipped into her drink was working. Kamala's already hazy state confirmed it. Now, all she had to do was keep her distracted until the drug fully took hold.
Vanessa leaned in even closer, the proximity drawing Kamala's gaze to her chest. Her dress was cut low, the fabric hugging her curves, and Kamala's glazed eyes wandered, her mind no longer on the conversation but on the way Vanessa's skin looked under the soft lights of the bar.
"No, not just yet," Vanessa said, her voice a quiet command. She snapped her fingers in front of Kamala's face, forcing her to refocus. Kamala's eyes flickered back to Vanessa's, confused and sluggish.
"Huh? Oh?" Kamala slurred, blinking in slow realization that she was being reeled in.
Vanessa smiled, her lips curling in a way that was both comforting and predatory. "Yeah... how about I drive us back to your place?" Her voice was smooth, calculated. "We can... unwind, and I can show you just how much I love working for you."
She placed her hand gently on Kamala's arm, the touch deliberate, her fingers trailing up to brush the bare skin where Kamala had discarded her jacket earlier in the evening. The heat of Kamala's skin made Vanessa's heart race, but not from attraction. It was all about control. She needed Kamala to be compliant, and needed her to trust her.
Kamala giggled softly, a sleepy, drunk sound, as she leaned into the touch. "Oh, you young people..." she murmured, her voice low and thick with intoxication. Her smile was lazy, her eyelids drooping even further. She leaned forward, as if to close the gap between them, her lips almost brushing Vanessa's.
But before she could, Kamala's knees buckled. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she pitched forward, crashing into Vanessa with a surprised yelp.
"Whoa!" Vanessa quickly caught her, barely managing to stay upright on her heels. Kamala's weight was heavy and unbalanced, her body slumping awkwardly against Vanessa. A slurred apology slipped from Kamala's lips, her words barely intelligible.
"Okay, wow... definitely drunk." Vanessa laughed, though the sound didn't reach her eyes. She repositioned Kamala, wrapping one of Kamala's limp arms around her own shoulders. She squeezed, using her weight to hoist Kamala upright, though it was a struggle.
Kamala's head lolled forward, her words barely a whisper. "Oh, you're... you're going to see... what I really am when we... get to my place." Her speech was disjointed, her words breaking with soft giggles as she stumbled, her feet dragging clumsily on the floor.
Vanessa's grip tightened, her arm like a vice around Kamala's waist, guiding her out of the bar. She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring no one paid too much attention, as she led Kamala into the night. Kamala was too far gone to realize anything was wrong, too dazed to notice how Vanessa's eyes kept flicking to her drink earlier, how carefully Vanessa had ensured Kamala drank it all.
"Let's get you home," Vanessa whispered, more to herself than to Kamala, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she imagined how easy it would be to get Kamala exactly where she needed her.
Kamala mumbled something incoherent, her head resting on Vanessa's shoulder as they disappeared into the cool night air, leaving the noise of the bar behind them.
Vanessa's heart raced-not from fear, but from the thrill of having everything under control. Kamala was practically putty in her hands now. Soon enough, she would have everything she wanted.
The car ride back to Kamala's place was a quiet one, with only the soft hum of the engine and Kamala's occasional mumblings breaking the silence. Vanessa glanced over at her every few seconds, watching as Kamala slumped further into the passenger seat. Her head lolled to the side, and her eyes were half-closed, heavy with the weight of both alcohol and the drug that had taken full effect.
Vanessa tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her heart pounding. She had been planning this for weeks, ever since she first saw the signs of Kamala's vulnerability-her late nights, her exhaustion, her increasing reliance on drinks to cope with the stress of the campaign. Kamala was powerful, influential, but tonight she was none of those things. Tonight, she was fragile, and that fragility was something Vanessa knew she could exploit.
"Almost there," Vanessa murmured, glancing at Kamala, who made a soft sound in response-something between a sigh and a groan.
As they neared Kamala's home, Vanessa felt the weight of her next steps pressing down on her. This was the moment she had been preparing for. She needed to get Kamala inside, get the house keys, and leave without raising any suspicion. But it wasn't just about getting the keys-it was about control, about watching Kamala completely oblivious to the fact that she was handing over her trust to the wrong person.
The car slowed as Vanessa pulled into Kamala's driveway. She killed the engine, sitting in the dimly lit car for a moment, her eyes scanning Kamala's unconscious form. This was it. No turning back.
"Come on, Kamala," Vanessa whispered as she unbuckled her seatbelt and slid out of the car.
She walked around to the passenger side, opening the door and leaning in to undo Kamala's seatbelt. The older woman groaned softly as Vanessa pulled her out, struggling to balance Kamala's weight against her own.
Kamala was heavy in her arms, her body limp and uncooperative. Vanessa had to half-drag, half-lift her up the walkway to the front door. Every step felt longer than the last, Kamala's feet dragging along the pavement as she mumbled incoherently. Her head bobbed forward, her chin resting against her chest.
Vanessa fumbled through Kamala's purse, searching for the keys. Her fingers brushed against the smooth metal, and she pulled them out, her breath catching in her throat. She held them for a second, feeling the weight of them in her palm, before pushing them into the lock and turning. The door swung open with a soft creak, and Vanessa looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching. The street was quiet, the night blanketing them in silence.
"Almost there," Vanessa whispered again as she guided Kamala inside, kicking the door shut behind her.
She carefully steered Kamala through the dimly lit hallway, taking care not to bump her into anything. The house was immaculate, a true reminder of Kamala's neatness of her life-everything had its place, every surface gleamed.
Vanessa's eyes darted around the space, taking it all in. She had been here before, of course, but never like this. Never with Kamala completely unaware, completely defenseless.
Her heart raced, her palms slick with a mix of anticipation and nerves.
Kamala mumbled something under her breath as they reached the stairs, her legs giving way. Vanessa cursed under her breath, adjusting her grip as she dragged Kamala up, step by painstaking step. By the time they reached the top, Vanessa was breathless, her arms burning from the effort.
She guided Kamala into the bedroom, the large, luxurious bed looming in the center of the room. With a grunt, Vanessa let Kamala fall onto the mattress, the older woman landing with a soft thud. Kamala's body lay sprawled out, her face buried in the plush comforter, her breaths shallow and uneven.
Vanessa straightened up, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead as she stood over Kamala, watching her for a moment. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out Kamala's house key, holding it between her fingers.
This was it-the prize.
She could leave now, and Kamala would never know.
But something stopped her.
Vanessa's eyes drifted back to Kamala's body, her curves outlined by the soft fabric of her clothes. Kamala's chest rose and fell slowly, her back slightly arched as she lay on her stomach. A soft moan escaped her lips, barely audible, but enough to send a jolt through Vanessa's spine.
She shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't.
She had been told to have something over Kamala, this was it, if she did what she was told. She looked so vulnerable, so utterly defenseless, and the way her body moved-the soft sounds she made...
Vanessa could deny she wanted her bad.
Vanessa bit her lip, her hands trembling as she took a step closer to the bed.
She should leave.
She should get out while she still could, before she did something she couldn't take back.
But her feet carried her forward. Her hand reached out, brushing lightly against Kamala's back, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her blouse. Kamala didn't react, her breathing steady, her mind lost in the haze of alcohol and drugs.
Vanessa swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest as her hand slid down, tracing the curve of Kamala's spine. "Shh... relax," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "You won't remember a thing."
Her hand moved lower, skimming over Kamala's hips, her fingers grazing the soft fabric of her skirt. Kamala let out another soft moan, her body shifting slightly under Vanessa's touch.
Vanessa's pulse quickened, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts. "You're safe," she whispered, her hand trailing back up to Kamala's shoulders. "I won't hurt you."
Her touch grew bolder, her hands caressing Kamala's body through her clothes, feeling the softness of her skin beneath. Kamala's body responded in small, subtle ways-her hips shifting, her back arching ever so slightly. Vanessa's breath hitched, her hands roaming, exploring, as she whispered reassurances into Kamala's ear.
Before she could manage to understand her actions, her hands were steadily moving lower.
A slow deliberate pace, pulsing even, her thumbs dug into Kamal as pressure points rolling and needing as she went along.
Harder and harder.
Kamal as faint sighs and moans began to turn to grunts as she pulled her arms close to push herself up. She couldn't.
"Uh, uh, say it down, you don't have to do anything... Jessica's voice said, as her finger stopped their practiced motion and turned to the edge of Kamala's shirt, it had somehow come untucked.
"Vanessa..."
"What? " She snapped back, shocked and slightly frightened by Kamala sudden alertness
"Yes..."
"I need this..." Kamala said, as her muscles relaxed, and she melted back into the bed,
"I -I know" Vanessa said, pulling the sheer fabric higher
Was this consent?
"Yes..." the word cuts the air like a knife. Her words breathless, and needy, her body sluggishly pulled itself up just enough to bring Kamal as hips higher.
"What scared you of an older woman?"
'You need the money' Marcus voice echoed in her mind
'She said yes...' her own played after
'2 mil for the both of you, get the house key and get some dirt on her, sound good?'
"Yes!" Kamala gasped as Vanessa's hands began to play at her sensitive flesh, her fingers this time digging into skin.
Vanessa's breath hitched as Kamala's gasps filled the room, sharp and heavy. Every moment felt suspended between hesitation and intention, each touch filled with layers neither of them we're ready to fully face. She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as they skimmed over Kamala's skin, warm and inviting.
Her thoughts clashed like colliding waves - the promise of money, the thrill of power, and the unsteady guilt that gnawed at her. Was this real? Was it just a means to an end? Kamala's need, her whispered breaths, pulled Vanessa further in, deeper than she'd intended to go.
Her hand slid beneath Kamala's shirt, feeling the heat of her body rising to meet her. Kamala's eyes fluttered shut, lips parted, breath shallow. Vanessa could see the vulnerability written across her face, but that only made it harder.
"Vanessa..." Kamala's voice was almost a plea, soft but weighted with the trust she seemed to place in her.
Vanessa's heart twisted. She had a job to do. Marcus's words echoed in her mind, louder now.
"Get the key, get the dirt. Two million is yours."
Two million dollars. A number that could change everything, pay off her debts, buy freedom...
Kamala shifted beneath her, the movement pulling Vanessa back into the moment.
The tension between them thickened as Kamala arched into her touch, her body both pliant and expectant. Her eyes opened again, searching, and Vanessa forced a smile, trying to hide her internal conflict.
Kamala whispered, "I trust you."
The words were too much. They hit Vanessa harder than she expected, tightening the noose of guilt around her heart. Her hands stilled on Kamala's body, as if they had become anchors, suddenly too heavy to move.
"I-" Vanessa's voice cracked, the weight of her mission suffocating her.
"Kamala, I-"
"What's wrong?" Kamala asked, her tone shifting to concern. She reached up, her fingers grazing Vanessa's face gently.
"You don't have to be nervous. Isn't thi-ss what you wanted?" She said pressing herself backwards further
Nervous? No. It was deeper than that. Vanessa was drowning in the realization that this wasn't just some job. It wasn't just a payday anymore.
This was something she couldn't escape, but would Kamala remember like how she would?
"What's today's date?" Vanessa said, her hands gripping firmly around Kamala hips as she stood behind the older woman
"December?" She said with a hint of smugness in her voice
A smile spread across Vanessa's face as her hands began to move again, this time smoothing along her back until she pulled at Kamala pants. In a swift motion, she pulled them down, exposing Kamala to her with ease.
"Who knew a future president candidate could end up like this"
Her voice came cold, and her hand slid down Kamala's body further.
She was closer to her core.
-------- (I'm not going to put you all through that)
The next morning, Kamala woke up with a groan, her mind foggy and her body slow to move.
She blinked against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, struggling to orient herself in the tangled sheets of her bed. As her senses began to sharpen, she realized she was completely naked, the comforter a chaotic mess around her.
A damp spot marred the fabric beneath her, sending her heart racing with confusion.
Panic set in as she tried to piece together the fragments of the night before. The sharp, stale scent of alcohol clung to her skin, and the memories remained frustratingly elusive.
Had she gone home with someone?
The thought sent a wave of anxiety coursing through her.
With shaking hands, she grabbed her phone, desperately scrolling through her messages and social media feeds, searching for any mention of the previous night.
Nothing. No articles, no tags, no embarrassing photos. Just silence. Good.
"My keys" She said as she reached over to her night stand picking up her car keys, she looked down at them, terror growing in her heart trying to remember if she'd driven herself home.
She hoped she hadn't.
But her fears were swept aside when he realized her house key was gone, she had copies, but where had it gone.
Had she given it to someone?
January 21st, 2025
"Miss Harris? Are you awake" Someone asked as they shook her slightly
Her eyes opened with a slow pull as she sat up in the hospital bed, surrounded by people. Tim, the investigator, and a few others stood around her as she came to her sense
"I am now; is Jessica back, or"
"No. Miss Harris, how long were you in possession of these papers, and why did you and your law assistant keep these from the FBI?" The investigator asked as he threw the papers down onto the bed.
"We believed they were fakes... We had no reason to otherwise report on them as if they were valid threats."
"Miss Harris, one of the papers had explicit language on the angle at which they would have to shoot to kill you." They said it bluntly, almost electing a sorrowful smile.
It was the same thing Jessica had said.
"Yes, I am aware, but at the time I was too overwhelmed to see past my own vanity. It didn't seem important; I've been threatened before, and it won't be the last time!" She said, raising her voice as if to brush it off.
"Well, as we can see, they meant what they said, but thankfully God was on our side. Tim caught us up on what was happening, and we believe we've already got some idea of what they're trying to do."
"Kamala, don't freak out, but Jessica was attacked at your home... The person was killed, and Jessica is safe. I told you she'd given me the papers, but we haven't been able to reach Jessica since the"
"Someone's got her tied up somewhere; the last place I know she could have been is the campaign headquarters, but you just left there, right, Tim?" Kamala cut him off; her attention suddenly regained as she began to speak, her head darting around herself, trying to find her personal phone that she never had to begin with.
"W-where is my phone?"
"You aren't allowed to use it at this time; under the advice of the FBI and your team, you're not allowed to make any monitor calls or receive calls unless they are directed through that landline." One of the men standing behind Tim said
She rolled her eyes and quickly reached for the landline, and Tim stopped her.
"Kamala, it's been hours since you passed out; I doubt that Jessica is there anymore."
"W-what do you mean?" Kamala said as she stopped looking at all of them.
"Kamala, you panicked when I brought you the papers; you tried to walk, and you passed out. I gave the papers to the investigator for you." Tim explained trying to comfort her, and his hand found hers.
"NO! Jessica has to be there. I called her. Some man picked up; I could hear her screaming something in the background; it was muffled!" She began as she failed, her arms around herself trying to make the vision appear for them.
"Slow down... breath; what do you mean you could hear her screaming?"
"SOMEBODY FUCKING KIDNAPPED JESSICA, WHAT AREN'T YOU UNDERSTANDING? THEY WERE DEMANDING THAT MY TEAM NOT RELEASE THE PAPERS!"
"You had what release?!" The investigator said as they quickly ran out of the room.
"Kamala, are you being serious right now? Are you high off pain medication?"
"No, Tim, I heard her; her voice was muffled, but she kept saying Vanessa... Vanessa..." She kept saying until it clicked in her ears.
"Go back! Go back there now and see if Jessica is there!" Kamala demanded as Tim shook his head giving no argument in the slightest seeing how increasingly agitated Kamala was becoming by the second
Before Tim could reach the door, the investigator came storming back in, holding a file.
"Your team just published those papers, and implicated Trump as the head conspirator for your assassination and Miss Rose's attack. The public now knows that you are alive and that there is an ongoing threat against you and your people... Miss Harris, whatever you are about to say needs to be something good..."
"Vanessa is- well, was my assistant. Jessica kind of replaced her... But Jessica was screaming her name, maybe she did something to her, the person on the phone said that if I didn't stop my team from publishing they'd kill her." Kamala said as she wiped at her eyes, refusing to let anyone in that room see her cry
"Okay, um, you two don't leave this place. You're the president and vice president-elect. It's my damn job to keep you two alive, and I'll be damned if I come close to losing one of you again. My agents and I will investigate, we'll keep you updated... They said as they dropped the file onto Kmalaa s hospital bed as the rest of the people rushed out of the room behind the investigator
As they left, Kamala and Tim shared a somber glance as they looked at the file in unison.
"How bad do you think it is?"
"Very bad if they have to threaten me to not publish it, but... all this might have been a mistake"
"Kamala, you're winning wasn't a mistake-"
"No asking Jessica to go back for those papers, I could have gotten her killed... and this time I really might have." Kamala said as tears finally flowed freely down her face
"Don't think like that, Kamala..."
"No... This time I really messed up badly... I should have known not to send her to Vanessa for anything. She'd probably been better off if I told her to publish them as is..." Kamala said as Tim looked at the first of the articles her team had published
"No... your team proved that Trump was involved, they even have proof that there are two who are involved working within your team..." Tim said as he looked up at her
Shock filled her eyes as she reached her hands out to see. He handed her the folder, her eyes widened as she looked inside.
"Vanessa and Marcus..." She said softly
"Kill her" Vanessa said coldly before hanging up
You felt the car pull to a stop, you slightly bump against the inside of the trunk from the jolt.
Your body was stiff, every muscle aching as Marcus yanked you from the cramped trunk. Your legs buckled when they hit the ground, barely able to support your weight after hours of being tied up in such a small space. You gasped for air, your breaths shallow and panicked. The blindfold was ripped from your eyes, but the sudden exposure to the dim evening light left you disoriented. Your hands were finally untied, but you didn't dare move.
You blinked through the blur of tears, trying to make sense of your surroundings. You were in the middle of nowhere. An old, cracked road stretched out into the distance, surrounded by dense trees and fields. There was no one in sight. No houses. No help.
You were alone with him.
"Marcus, please..." Your voice cracked, raw from crying and the fear that had lodged itself in your throat. "You don't have to do this. Just let me go. We can fix this. I can help you. Please."
Marcus stood over you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were dark, tired. He didn't respond right away, just looking down at you as if he were weighing something in his mind. His fists were clenched at his sides, the veins in his arms bulging. He seemed conflicted, but there was a cold finality in his posture.
"It's too late," he finally muttered, his voice low and hollow. "It's either this... or prison."
Your stomach dropped. You had suspected, but hearing him say it out loud felt like a death sentence. "Why?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why are you doing this, Marcus? What are you going to do?"
Marcus exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. "I needed the money. I have no other choice." His words were clipped, like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. "The gambling debts... they got too high. They were going to come for me. This was my only way out."
You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "No. There's another way. We can-"
"There's no other way!" Marcus's shout made you flinch. "It's too late. I have to kill you."
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body trembled violently, your mind racing for a way out. "No, no, no," you pleaded, your hands raised defensively. "Please, Marcus. You don't have to. I won't say anything. No one has to know. I'll help you, I swear."
But your words didn't seem to reach him. His face hardened, his eyes cold. "You think they'll let me get away with this? *They'll have me and Vanessa hanging from our ankles if those papers get out.*" His laugh was bitter, void of any hope.
"I'm already dead."
Before you could say another word, he lashed out. His fist connected with your jaw, the impact sending you sprawling to the ground. Pain exploded in your face, your lip splitting open, blood filling your mouth. You groaned, dazed, your vision swimming. Your hands clawed at the dirt as you tried to push yourself up, but Marcus wasn't done.
Another blow landed on your ribs, then another to your side, knocking the breath from your lungs. You gasped, trying to scream, but your voice was lost, choked out by the pain. You curled in on yourself, your body instinctively trying to protect itself from the onslaught, but it wasn't enough. Each hit felt like a hammer breaking you apart piece by piece.
"Stop..." you whimpered, your words barely audible. "Please... stop."
But Marcus didn't stop until he was panting, his fists bloodied. He stood over you, chest heaving, as you lay crumpled in the ditch, your face swollen and bruised, your lip bleeding, your body battered and broken. You could barely move, your limbs heavy and unresponsive. Your head throbbed, the world around you spinning as the edges of your vision darkened.
Marcus stared at you for a long moment, his hands shaking. He couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye. There was something broken in him, something that couldn't be fixed anymore. He ran a hand through his hair, his face contorted in a mix of regret and fear.
He turned without another word and walked back to the car, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. You tried to call out to him, but your voice was a hoarse whisper. You could barely lift your head, let alone your body.
Marcus stopped at the car door, his hand gripping the handle. He looked back once, his eyes filled with something-remorse, guilt, or maybe just fear. Then he got in the car, the engine roaring to life.
Your heart pounded as you watched him pull away. You tried to move, tried to scream for help, but no one was there.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, your swollen eyes barely open as you staggered to your feet and tried to walk, each step agonizing. Your body screamed in protest, but survival instincts drove you.
You couldn't stay there.
You had to move, had to find a way out, but everything around you was a blur of shadows. Your vision was fading, the swelling around your eyes closing them off to the world.
You took another step, your foot meeting resistance. A tree branch-something solid, something wrong.
The next moment seemed to slow down as your foot slipped from your heel, the slick surface of the branch sending you off-balance. Your arms flailed, trying to grab hold of anything, but the ground gave way beneath you. You fell, your body weightless for a terrifying second before gravity pulled you down.
You tumbled backward, your legs buckling underneath you as your body hit the slope of the ditch with a sickening thud. Your head smacked against the hard earth, the impact sending a white-hot flash of pain through your skull.
Everything went dark.
The surrounding noise, rustling leaves, the distant hum of wind, faded as the edges of your consciousness blurred and dissolved. The pain became distant, your body heavy and limp, sinking deeper into the cold, unforgiving ground.
And then there was nothing.