I—I got lost…
Why did he do it? What did I do wrong? All this time, I have truly loved him.
— Beatrice
~~~
One day, as Beatrice walked along the quiet, pristine halls of the psychiatric hospital, a bold idea sparked in her mind.
Determined to prove that Blade was real and to refute Atlas's claims of her madness, she devised a risky plan to test her own sanity and resourcefulness.
During one of the scheduled walking sessions, Beatrice suddenly clutched her head and crumpled to the floor as if a wave of severe dizziness had overtaken her.
"Oh no! Are you okay?" a staff member cried out, rushing to her side with practiced urgency.
Beatrice moaned weakly, keeping her eyes slightly squinted to watch the staff's reactions.
"I… I feel so dizzy," she murmured, her voice trembling to sell the deception.
The staff, trained for such emergencies, quickly communicated among themselves.
"Let's get her to the medical room, fast," one of them directed, as two others helped lift Beatrice, supporting her as they hurried down the corridor.
Once in the medical room, the nurse turned to Beatrice, her expression a mix of concern and professionalism.
"Just stay calm, I'm going to get what we need to check you over," she said, patting Beatrice reassuringly on the shoulder before turning to fetch supplies.
With the nurse momentarily out of sight, Beatrice took the opportunity to scan the room.
In a moment of opportunity, she noticed a small medical scalpel left carelessly on a tray beside the examination table. It wasn't much, but it was sharp, and it was exactly what she needed.
With a swift, subtle movement, she palmed the scalpel, concealing it in the sleeve of her hospital gown.
Once the nurse returned and began a routine check-up, Beatrice gradually "regained consciousness," apologizing for the scare and attributing her fainting spell to a sudden headache.
She was careful to answer all questions calmly and coherently, reinforcing her facade of recovery and stability.
Beatrice escorted back to her room under the watchful eyes of the staff—who remained unaware of the stolen scalpel.
She hid it in a secure spot within her room, wrapped in a piece of cloth and tucked away in a rarely disturbed corner.
*
At precisely 11:10 PM, Beatrice sat on the edge of her bed, the scalpel hidden under her mattress now cold in her trembling hand.
She whispered to herself, trying to muster the courage for what she was about to do.
"It's okay, you'll be okay."
11.11
With one last deep breath, she positioned the scalpel against her wrist. As the sharp edge touched her skin, she flinched slightly but pressed on.
The sharp pain was immediate, and a cry escaped her lips before she could contain it.
"Aaaa, fuckkkk!!! This damn crazy girl!!!!"
The screamed, partly from the pain, partly from the frustration overwhelming her.
As blood welled from the shallow cut. She quickly pressed her other hand over the wound, applying pressure to stem the bleeding.
While tending to her self-inflicted wound, Beatrice overheard a voice that seemed to emanate from within the depths of her mind — a familiar tone that always sparked a mixture of fear and solace.
It was Blade, speaking with a hint of admiration and surprise.
"Oh, you found a way to summon me to your world, clever girl," the voice commented, almost with a chuckle.
The sound was not audible to anyone else, only resonating in Beatrice's consciousness, feeling as real as any voice in the room.
Reacting to the voice, Beatrice quickly tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her robe with shaky hands, her movements frantic but determined.
She wrapped the makeshift bandage around her wrist.
As she secured the bandage, she muttered under her breath, acknowledging the presence she felt but could not see.
"You're here now, aren't you, Blade? I guess it worked," she said softly, almost questioningly, still somewhat disbelieving that her drastic act had indeed bridged the gap between her and her alternative self.
"Yup."
"Help me get out of here."
"Easy…,"
*
As Beatrice approached the guard at her door, she feigned a shiver and wrapped her arms around herself.
"Could I step out for a moment? It's awfully stifling in here, and a quick walk might help," she pleaded, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.
The guard hesitated, looking unsure. "I'm not supposed to let you out without supervision," he replied, his voice firm and cold.
Beatrice leaned closer, letting a small, charming smile play on her lips. "Just to the end of the hall? I promise I'll be good. It's just been so hard to breathe in there."
Finally relenting, the guard nodded and opened the door, stepping out with her. "Alright, but just a quick one. I have to be right beside you."
As they walked, Beatrice kept the guard engaged. "Thank you so much. You don't know how much this means," she said softly, glancing up at him under her lashes.
When they were far enough from other prying eyes, Beatrice's demeanor shifted.
She paused, turning to face the guard.
"You've been so kind. Could I just get a glass of water from that dispenser?" she asked, pointing to a nearby water cooler.
As the guard turned his back to her, reaching for a cup, Beatrice seized her moment. With swift precision, she used her makeshift training to apply a quick chokehold she had meticulously practiced in her mind.
"Sorry, this isn't personal," she whispered as the guard slumped, unconscious, into her arms. She gently lowered him to the ground, checking to make sure he was breathing.
Quickly, she picked up his keys and access card, then moved stealthily down the corridor. She encountered another guard, this one more alert.
"Hey, you shouldn't be out here!" he began, stepping towards her.
Beatrice feigned panic, backing away. "I—I got lost," she stammered, waiting for him to close the distance.
As he reached out to guide her back, Beatrice grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him while kicking behind his knee, whispering, "Really sorry about this," before knocking him gently against the wall, where he slid down, knocked out by the pressure she'd applied.
*