Three men approached the building, their polished shoes striking the ground in unison, a steady rhythm that warned of their approach. Their eyes locked on the entrance, occasionally darting toward distant murmurs rippling through the air—discontented voices rising in the background.
Someone wasn't happy.
As the doors swung open, a rush of warm air greeted them, mingling with the sounds of people packing up, exhausted from staying well past their hours. The rustling of worn-out bags ceased as the men entered, all eyes turning toward them, tension thickening the room.
"Listen up, everyone," one of the men said, his voice authoritative yet measured. "I'm Agent Wallace, heading the investigation into the assassination attempt on Miss Harris. We're not here to arrest anyone—yet. Right now, we just need to locate three individuals." He scanned the room, clearly noting the absence of familiar faces.
A man stepped forward, anxiety creasing his brow.
"Did you read the article?" a man asked, glancing nervously at the others.
Wallace remained composed, though it was clear he didn't have all the details. "We're aware of the article, and we appreciate the work you've done to protect your boss and uphold justice," he replied, sidestepping the question about whether he'd actually read it.
"But we're still in the thick of the investigation. Time is... tight."
"Well, it's clear Vanessa and Marcus are involved," the man pressed.
"Vanessa was Miss Harris's assistant, but she started acting strange, and couldn't stay focused on her job. Eventually, she was replaced by Jessica. And Marcus—he was the financial advisor, but he was skimming donations. No one caught on until he started taking thousands at a time."
Wallace raised an eyebrow. "And Miss Harris was unaware of this?"
"She was too busy to notice. It was around the time Jessica came on board. Vanessa got moved to campaign manager, but then she and Marcus started acting shady. Disappearing during the day, hours on the phone... It seemed like some office affair. But I saw Vanessa steal campaign stop information once—stuffed it right into her purse."
"And that proves...?" Wallace asked, his tone skeptical.
"Harris had an upcoming stop in the same city, and then Trump set up a rally there the same day."
"That's circumstantial at best," Wallace replied, just as a voice cut through the room.
It was sharp, cold, and brimming with disdain. "That proves nothing."
All heads turned as Vanessa entered, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, a warning in every step. She approached with slow, deliberate confidence, her face betraying nothing but controlled irritation. Her eyes locked onto the group, her forced smile barely concealing the storm brewing beneath the surface.
"I can assure you," she began, her voice smooth and controlled, "neither Marcus nor I had any involvement in Miss Harris's attack. Or Jessica's. I find these accusations insulting, and I know Marcus would be equally displeased to hear how our personal matters have been... misconstrued." Her gaze swept the room, daring anyone to challenge her, as her expression remained firm, masking the panic clawing at her insides.
Wallace, undeterred, took a step closer. "Regardless, Miss Young, we need you, Marcus, and Miss Rose to come with us for questioning."
Vanessa's breath caught in her throat, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at Wallace, her forced composure cracking for a split second. A smug grin curled at her lips, but inside, her mind raced.
Shit, shit, shit.
"Miss... M-Miss Rose is... um, she had to step out for a moment. She didn't say when she would be returning," she stammered, her lies evident.
"And as for Marcus Maddox?" Wallace continued, raising an eyebrow.
Vanessa's lip quivered as she readied an answer. Slowly, her lips parted. "He wasn't here." She said it with a smug arch of her eyebrow that didn't go unnoticed, her voice laced with false confidence as she crossed her arms.
Wallace looked down at his watch with a smile. "Okay, Miss Young, thank you, but you'll still have to come with us. I'd suggest bringing your things—you'll be with us for a while," he said, grabbing her arm and turning to lead her along.
Vanessa yanked her arm away, planting her heels firmly beneath herself as she regained her footing, disgust etched on her face.
"What do you think you're doing? Am I under arrest?" she barked.
"Miss Young, you've been listed as a partner in the plotting and execution of an assassination attempt against President-elect Kamala Harris. That also implicates you in the attack and break-in at Miss Harris's home, which led to the assault of Jessica Rose. There's enough probable cause to lock you up in a federal prison until this investigation's suspect and victim roundup is complete." He paused, hands clasping behind his back as his posture straightened.
Vanessa's hair stood on end, her mind flashing back to earlier words.
"KILL. JESSICA. NOW."
"Kill her."
What if he had actually done it?
"I'd advise you to come with us willingly, or we'll cuff you, and you'll be wearing a blue jumpsuit until I say otherwise," Wallace said, his eyes darkening.
"Let me at least get my purse... how long will I be with you people?" Vanessa spat as she turned, picking up her bag with a dismissive expression.
"It's 7 p.m. now—you'll be with us until 10, unless we can't get a confession before then," he said slyly, as Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
She gave them a forced smile, anger simmering beneath her surface as they stared back at her. She was sweating now, her forced confidence faltering under scrutiny.
Outside the building, Vanessa carried on her constant proclamations of innocence, though it did little to convince anyone. Her eyes darted nervously around the parking lot as they approached the man's car. Fear began to gnaw at her as she drew closer. If Marcus had been smart enough to flee after he'd finished, she'd be safe.
But just then, Marcus's car screeched into the lot, halting a few feet away.
Vanessa cursed under her breath as he stumbled out of the car. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing ragged, and his hands trembling as he approached her. She waved him off, but it was useless.
He ran toward her, clutching her blazer, before collapsing to his knees. He looked up at her, pleading, as she gave him a warning glare, hoping he'd get the hint and stay quiet.
"O-oh, Marcus! We were just looking for you," she said through gritted teeth, her hands firmly gripping his arms as she tried to pull him to his feet.
He barely managed to stand an inch before sinking back down, his lips quivering as he tried to speak.
"I... did it," he whispered, though it came out as a desperate, tear-stained plea.
"What! Marcus, what happened?" she said, bending down just enough to get close to his face, her eyes locking with his, trying to maintain control.
"I did what you asked! I—"
"Jacket! You went and got my jacket for me—good, thank you. No need to cry over that!" she said, her head tilting slightly to shield Marcus from the agents' view.
Shut up or you'll go to prison. Now, did you do it or not? She hissed, glancing back at the agents, then back at Marcus, her hand shooting out to rub his shoulder.
"Yes... no... I think... she wasn't getting back up," he stammered, shaking as his hands shot out in front of him.
Vanessa stared at him down, rage welling inside her. What did he mean, he didn't know?
"Okay, okay. We'll be alright. Let's just go with these men. They need to ask us a few questions about Miss—"
"Blood," one of the agents said, appearing at the car's trunk. They swiped a finger across the bumper, revealing a barely dried crimson streak.
"Marcus Maddox and Vanessa Young, you're under arrest under suspicion of abduction and murder."
"Murder?" Vanessa snapped as an agent approached with handcuffs already undone, reaching for her arm.
"Miss Young, we've been at this long enough to know when someone's lying. You've got two options when we question you—confess and plead out, or take the same sentence as the others. There's blood on this man's car, a victim is missing, and you're not great at whispering," the agent said as the cuffs snapped shut around her wrists. She bit her lip hard to stifle her frustration as she watched Marcus being cuffed beside her.
"You don't know if she's dead! Like you said, you don't even know where she is!" Vanessa yelled as they pushed her toward the car.
"We'll find her soon enough, or you'll tell us," the agent said, forcing Vanessa and Marcus into the car together. Their eyes met briefly as they were confined to the back seat.
Silence settled in the car as the engine started, and Vanessa watched in the rearview mirror as the agent opened the trunk, revealing something that made they're her stomach drop.
When they arrived at the hospital, Marcus and Vanessa sat in separate rooms, the walls thick with the weight of suspicion. Each room was sparse—cold metal tables, glaring overhead lights, and a mirror that promised invisible eyes watching every movement. The chairs were uncomfortable, deliberately so, forcing them to sit rigid, uncomfortable, on edge. Both of them felt the cracks in their stories about being exposed.
Agent Wallace was with Marcus, his demeanor calm but unyielding. He placed a file on the table, thick with documents and evidence. He didn't open it just yet. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and let the silence settle in, letting it gnaw at Marcus's nerves.
Across the hall, Vanessa sat with Agent Peters, her posture tense, arms crossed, already deflecting before a single word had been spoken.
"Let's start simple," Wallace said, breaking the quiet. "Tell me about the days leading up to the attempt on Harris's life."
Marcus shifted uncomfortably. He kept his eyes on the table, his voice low and shaky.
"I wasn't involved in that... I didn't know anything about it until—"
A lie.
Wallace cut him off. "We have your phone records, Marcus. We know you and Vanessa were in frequent contact with each other and with certain... political figures, right up until the attack."
Across the hall, Peters leaned in closer to Vanessa, her eyes sharp and probing.
"You were in contact with Trump's campaign before the election. Let's not pretend that didn't happen. What were you promised? What did you and Marcus think you were going to get out of this?"
Vanessa's face remained composed, though her fingers twitched slightly as they gripped the edge of the table. "We didn't do anything illegal. Talking isn't a crime, last time I checked. Marcus and I were just trying to... offer money for secrets, not anything illegal. We both had things we needed to navigate through, and he offered an easy way out."
"Navigate?" Peters echoed, her voice dripping with skepticism. "You were more than 'navigating.' You were setting the stage, working out deals. We know about the funds Marcus embezzled from Harris's campaign, and we know you were sabotaging her schedule. You were feeding information to the opposition."
Vanessa's lips twitched into a thin, defiant smile. "That's not true. You're grasping at straws."
Meanwhile, Wallace was methodically chipping away at Marcus's resolve. "Vanessa didn't tell you anything, huh? That's what you want us to believe? So, when she moved from assistant to campaign manager, and you were suddenly working closely with her, none of that seemed suspicious to you?"
Marcus's hands trembled as he gripped the edge of his chair. "Vanessa was in charge. She handled most of it. I just... I just followed her lead."
Wallace arched an eyebrow. "Followed her lead? So, it was Vanessa who planned this? Vanessa who gave the orders?"
"No!" Marcus snapped, his voice cracking under the weight of the lie. "I mean... I don't know. I wasn't involved in any of that."
Wallace leaned forward, voice low, coaxing Marcus further. "But you were involved in something, weren't you? You didn't just sit back and watch all this unfold, did you?"
Across the hall, Peters took a different approach with Vanessa. "Let's talk about Jessica," she said, watching Vanessa closely for a reaction. "What happened between you two? She replaced you as Harris's assistant, didn't she? You didn't like that."
Vanessa's eyes narrowed. "Jessica got close to Kamala quickly, they were buddy buddies, and she had better ideas than me. I was just moved to a different position—it wasn't personal."
"Oh, it wasn't personal?" Peters challenged, a smirk curling her lips. "Is that why you started disappearing with Marcus? The two of you sneaking off, hours on the phone, looking into Harris's stops, leaking information? Was that not personal either?"
Vanessa clenched her jaw, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. "We were just doing our jobs. If Jessica couldn't keep up, that's on her. But I didn't have anything to do with the attack on EITHER of them. I wasn't even there when it happened." she snapped, eyes darting to the side to track them
Peters wasn't convinced, and her expression said as much. "No, you weren't there. But Marcus was, wasn't he? And we both know he didn't do that on his own. You gave him the orders, didn't you?"
"You were on the phone the whole time, and you told him to shoot her. You're... ... You're her team... You could get anything you wanted through the security"
Vanessa's mask faltered for the first time. Her gaze darted to the side, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, her voice strained, but Peters could see the panic beginning to bloom in her eyes.
Back in Marcus's room, Wallace laid it out plainly. "Here's the deal, Marcus. We already have enough to pin you for the financial crimes. You're going down for the money you stole from Harris's campaign. That much is already set. But if you don't start talking, it's going to be much worse. We've got evidence that ties you to the attack on Jessica Rose, and Harris, federal crimes too. Jessica was the last person to have seen her, and we found blood on your car. So, here's your chance—tell us the truth. Is Miss Rose dead? Was it Vanessa who ordered you to kill her?"
Marcus's breath hitched, the weight of his own guilt pressing down on him. He looked up at Wallace, eyes pleading, as if trying to find an escape. His mind wound back to hours before, his hands ached as he flexed them under the table.
"I didn't want to do it," Marcus muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "She... she told me to handle it. Vanessa. She said Jessica was a liability. That if Harris's assassination got linked to Trump, we'd both be screwed. Vanessa was
Panicking, she said Jessica had to go."
"And you did it?" Wallace asked, his voice calm, but with an edge that promised no mercy. "You killed Jessica?"
Across the hall, Vanessa was unraveling. Peters had pushed just hard enough, and now Vanessa was beginning to spill fragments of the truth. "I didn't want this to happen... I didn't want any of it to go this far," she said, her voice cracking under the strain.
Peters didn't let up. "But you made a deal, didn't you? With Trump's people. You sabotaged Harris's campaign, and you let Marcus do your dirty work. You promised him a way out of his debts. What did you get in return?"
Vanessa closed her eyes, as if trying to block out the reality of her own words. "They promised me a position. A way to rise through the ranks. Harris was going to win, and Trump needed to stop her. We made a deal. I thought Marcus could handle it, but he's an idiot. He's always been a liability."
"And Jessica?" Peters pressed, her voice colder now. "You knew Marcus was going to kill her, didn't you?"
Vanessa's silence was all the confirmation needed.
Meanwhile, Marcus was breaking down completely. He covered his face with his hands, his words tumbling out like a confession ripped from his soul. "Yes... I killed her. I didn't mean to... but Vanessa said it had to be done. I panicked. I hit her... again and again. I left her on the side of the highway. I thought she was dead... I couldn't stay."
Wallace leaned back, satisfied. "Where?"
"On Route 38... the old highway. Near the bend by the woods. I didn't go back. I couldn't face it."
Across the hall, Peters received a note through the door, quietly informing her of Marcus's confession. She looked at Vanessa with newfound certainty. "It's over. Marcus just told us everything. You might want to start thinking about your own deal."
Vanessa sat there, staring at the wall, her world collapsing. Every ambition, every secret, every carefully plotted move—destroyed. She had no more cards to play.
"I- I want a deal, I'll tell you everything..." she blurted out, a last ditch effort to save herself
Wallace had already moved to leave the room, the files in hand, and a taped confession. He stopped as she spoke, listening.
"Really? Who's to say you don't have a lot more to lie about?"
"The-the failed safe plan to Trump's loss..." She said her voice strained and tears painted her face, she was red, and flustered.
"Well, Miss Young, if what you say has any merit, you'll plead out to a lesser charge, but you'll answer to the feds wherever and whenever they say?" he asked being clear in his words as he approached the seat, his hand guiding the chair back and his eyes staying glued to Vanessa's
"yeah..."
"Well, I'll guess we'll be finding out why the caged bird sings..." he said, reopening the folder and pulling a notepad along with a pen. He reoriented the tape recorder and pressed play as a low smile crept onto his face
The slight tilt of his head under the fluorescent light casting a defined shadow across his brow, Vanessa's breath heightened, before she looked down at herself.
"I guess we will" She sighed, as she crossed her legs
"Tim, can you get the doctor in here or something?" Kamala said, nearly breathless as she sat up in the hospital bed, her medications were wearing off and so was her pain tolerance.
"Sure" Tim said standing up from his chair and peering out into the hallway, he turned around and shrugged his shoulders
He left the room.
Alone, she tried to focus on anything but the pain radiating through her chest. Her fists clenched shut as she moved to reposition herself again. Her head began to spin as she looked around herself for anything, anyone to take her mind off the pain.
"Tim?" She asked, hearing the faint sound of footsteps outside the room approaching
She straightened up as the person entered the room, half their face hidden below a mask, Kamala gave a weak smile and nodded to greet them as they did the same. She'd come to find that many of the doctors weren't too talkative, especially when there were two men standing outside the doors at all times and half the hospital being unusable for one person.
"Miss Harris, how is your pain right now?" They asked as they sat a pouch of liquid on a metal table in the corner of the room, their back facing Kamala as she looked at them.
There was only one nurse and doctor that she'd seen, but this one sounded different, they were new. Kamala didn't mind, though, as long as they would do something to make the pain stop...
"Close to how it felt when I first got shot" Kamala said adding a slight laugh
"We'll miss Harris, we're giving you some medicine, same as last Time, it shouldn't be long until the pain goes away, well check in again then?" The person said as they turned to her, she didn't pay them much mind as they attached the pole next to her.
Within minutes, the pain grew dull, and she was once again left in the room alone, the slight buzz of the TV remote speaker Reminding her she was still awake. Whatever It was they were giving Her did wonders, but it surely made her feel slow.
'Where had Tim gone' her mind drifted as she sluggish moved to straighten up, despite the slight pain and restrain of the medication she sat straight and allowed her legs to dangle
" Kamala?" she heard from the door, her head lazily turned as her eyes lowered, her vision was blurry, oddly... they could still hear them though, they sounded familiar
"Jessica?" She asked, squinting her eyes and slightly leaning forwards to see
"No it's- yes, it's me Kamala..." she said getting closer, just enough for Kamala to see a little more ß
"I was so worried... are You alright" Kamala said, reaching her hands out in attempt to call Vanessa closer
"I...am, Just a little flustered is all- Kamala can I ask you something?" Vanessa said as she began to realize the gravity of what she was saying, she reached her hand out to Kamala's hand
" Sure sweaty anything..." She said as she looked up at Vanessa, her eyes hazy and steadily growing redder by the second, she looked almost like she had at that bar, Vanessa's stomach chundered as she intertwined her fingers with Kamala's
The familiar feel of her skin sent shivers down her spine.
"Vanessa... can you help her?" She asked as she looked into Kamala's eyes, a knowing smile creeping across her face as her other hand fell atop hers
She smiled and tilted her hand slightly, almost searching for something
"Yeah, what do you want me to do?" she said as she started to lean closer
"get her out of this? I-I don't know..." Vanessa said, shrugging her shoulders
"Anything for you, Jess..." She said as her lips came crashing down on Vanessa's, her eyes shut and body pressing closer to Vanessa's
Her mind was blank, but Vanessa was racing.
She really believed she was Jessica.
She really was kissing her.
"Jessica, c-can we do this right now?" Kamala asked as her lips left Vanessa and began their way down her jaw
"K-Kamala... You won't remember if we do, you're high.... You don't remember our first time, do you?" Vanessa asked as she pushed Kamala away slightly
"I do, we started kissing in the kitchen, then we ended up in my bedroom..." Kamala smiled softly as she began to pull back in slightly, her lips brushing lightly against Vanessa's skin
Surprisingly she wasn't aroused, she felt in control. Kamala to her touch felt like soft dough, melting into her hands and around her. Kisses growing more intense yet seeming to lose all sense of patience
'No...no...no...you really don't remember, do you?" Vanessa says as she pulls Kamala closer, her head tilting back as her words became breathy, a small smile creeping onto her face as her hand creeps softly up Kamala's back
The soft fabric of the shirt she'd been given to wear hugs tightly to her.
"Tell me about it..." Her eyes were dull, but her brows furrowed in a way that made guilt twist around Vanessa's every word
"The Bar..." Her voice trailed off
"Marcus... look you're a good guy, you've got some things stacked against you, we've already cut you a deal, but we can make that deal way better if you can help us out with any more information..."
"I've told you everything I know about what you've asked me about, the plans, the messages, everything else. What else can I say?" Marcus said exhausted as he looked at the clock hanging on the wall once again
It was now 11 p.m.
"The key, how did Vanessa get the key boy? That's what we want to know"
"Vanessa drugged the woman, she and the rest of their team went out to a bar after a rally, they brought out the entire bar for the night, Vanessa got Kamala drunk and drugged her drink... she could barely walk when she took her home"
"And she did all of that, no hesitation... you did nothing to stop her?"
" I didn't know she was going to do any of what she did, after she left I had nothing to do with, we said get dirt on her, some pictures of her drunk disheveled? Not... rape her..." Marcus said, pulling at his cuffs again
He'd grown used to the metal feel around his wrist.
"She...she just bragged about it afterward. That was around the same time she got replaced by Jessica, I don't think Harris remembered what they did though"
"How do you know she doesn't remember?"
"Harris isn't exactly functional when given anything heavy, humph the drinks alone were probably enough to knock her on her ass" Marcus laughed despite his situation, Wallace gave a weak smile as he finally packed up his things and turned to leave for good
Marcus as the door closed felt the weight on his shoulders pull harder, he leaned down onto the table, head spinning and chest tight with tears that had been held back for hours.
His life was over, their plan was over, he had laid all his cards down and for what?
"Agent Wallace, we've lost a Young" A lower officer came running towards him as Wallace face contorted and began to stride to Kamala's hospital room, a hunch growing in his chest as he approached the door
The door swung open, he froze
Vanessa sat at the edge of Kamala hospital bed, her hands resting on Kamala's knees, her face shadowed by the dimmed light of the room. But Kamala, still groggy from her medication, watched as Vanessa moved around her, eyes half lidded, and her movements sluggish, but her mind slowly began to stir as Vanessa spoke.
"Jessica..." She sighed softly
"I'm glad you're here..." she muttered, her voice soft yet so unsure
She gave Vanessa a smile, the edges of her lips barely lifting into expression. Vanessa hummed as she returned a soft smile, satisfaction rather than empathy in the sound.
Vanessa's eyes lit up at Kamal's words. Her lips moved to correct her, to tell her the truth, she was already in too deep, what would it do now to tell Kamala that she wasn't Jessica.
She bit her tongue, the moment took her.
She leaned closer, her hand running lightly across Kamala's arm.
"I am too" She said as guilt gnawed at her
Kamala tilted her head and her eyes narrowed as if to clear her vision. Her brows furrowed as she spoke.
"You've been so different lately, are you worried about going into the White House? You can talk to me, you're my girlfriend, Jess..."
Vanessa swallowed hard, her heart thudding against her chest. She hadn't intended for this moment to unfold like this, but now that she was here.
She wasn't turning back.
Her fingers played with the edge of Kamala's hospital gown, a nervous gesture.
"It's been hard," Vanessa started, her voice low, apologetic.
"I've done things I'm not proud of... things I've tried to forget."
Kamala frowned slightly, her fingers brushing against Vanessa's, a gesture that felt oddly familiar. "What do you mean? What things?"
Vanessa hesitated, her eyes darting to the side before she looked back at Kamala, her face softening. "That night at the bar," she began, her voice strained. "After the rally. Do you remember?"
Kamala shook her head slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I... I don't. I don't remember much about that night."
Vanessa bit her lip, her hand gently tracing Kamala's cheek. "You were drinking, Kamala. We all were. But... I had a plan. I needed to get close to you, to... to get something. Leverage."
Kamala hesitantly pulled away, their bodies still touching.
Kamala's smile faltered, a faint flicker of unease flashing in her eyes. "Leverage? For what?"
Vanessa's breath hitched, and her hand stilled against Kamala's skin. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the edge of Kamala's ear. "I needed you to trust me," she whispered. "I wanted you to be vulnerable. I took your house key"
Kamala's pulse quickened, her body shifting slightly beneath Vanessa's weight.
"Vulnerable? Why'd you have to take my house key baby, you could have just asked for one..." she said as she smiled, but her expression still pinned, her voice thick with confusion?
She closed her eyes, trying to focus, but the fog of the medication made everything feel distant, disconnected. "What are you talking about, Jessica?"
Vanessa's eyes filled with a mixture of longing as she leaned in further, pressing her lips gently to Kamala's jawline.
"It wasn't supposed to go that far, Kamala," she whispered.
"I didn't mean for you to get hurt."
Kamala stiffened beneath her touch, the warmth of Vanessa's lips sending a jolt through her system. But as Vanessa's words began to sink in, the pleasant haze that had clouded her mind started to clear. A sense of dread settled over her as the pieces began to fall into place.
"Wait..." Kamala pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Vanessa's face for answers. "What do you mean 'hurt'? What did you do, Jessica?"
Vanessa's breath trembled, her hands now shaking as they rested on Kamala's shoulders. "Kamala... I'm not Jessica."
"I was never...and at the bar you went home with me" she added
Kamala blinked, the words taking a moment to register. Her body stiffened further, her heartbeat quickening as her mind fought through the fog.
"What do you mean?" she asked again, her voice growing sharper. "Who are you?"
Vanessa looked down, her eyes brimming with guilt. "I'm Vanessa."
Kamala froze, her entire body tensing.
Vanessa began to push against Kamala's chest, she allowed herself to follow her movements as she leaned into the bed, her eyes never leaving Vanessa's as she moved above her.
Her heart thudded violently in her chest as the reality of the situation began to crash down on her.
"No..." she whispered, her voice weak but filled with horror.
"You... You're lying."
"I'm not lying," Vanessa said, her voice breaking as she tried to hold Kamala's gaze.
"Kamala, I—"
"No!" Kamala pushed against Vanessa, her hands trembling as she struggled to break free from Vanessa's grip.
At some point between her confusion and her deteriorated focus Vanessa's had managed to pin her to the bed, her legs tightly holding to Kamala's sides and her hands moved to restrain Kamala's arms
"Get off me! "
Vanessa didn't let go, her hands pressing harder against Kamala's shoulders.
"Kamala, please—" she begged
She didn't expect Kamala to take it lightly, but she didn't expect this. To her, what she had done was illegal, but she knew it felt good both ways.
"You-you lied to me!" Kamala screamed, her voice filled with a mix of rage and disbelief.
"You drugged me, didn't you? That night at the bar. You drugged me!" Kamala began to spit at her as Vanessa looked at her heart rate monitor, it was wildly displaying Kamala's increasing heart rate by the second
"I didn't want to, Kamala. I swear, I didn't want to hurt you. I wanted to make you feel better, I love you, a-and still do needed you to know I could-"
"Could what! Do you have a way with me?!" Kamala began to thrash against the younger woman, it wasn't helping that her body was weighed down
"Please stop!" Vanessa said as she looked behind herself, worried that someone would walk in, "Please I didn't mean for any of this to happen, I didn't want to hurt you!"
"But you did!" Kamala's voice cracked as she thrashed beneath Vanessa's weight, her body surging with a strength that the medication couldn't fully suppress.
"You violated me. You used me because you could. You raped me because you could!"
Vanessa's face twisted, her lips quivering as she tried to restrain Kamala's wild movements.
"I didn't have to do it, Kamala. I didn't. But... I just... I just could, I had a plan, all I had to do was take pictures of you messed up, but... I couldn't control myself" she whispered, her words filled with self-loathing.
"I thought I could control this... Control you. But I'm losing everything... tell me I won't lose you too!"
Kamala's eyes widened, her breath ragged as tears streamed down her face.
"You're a monster," she spat, her voice hoarse with pain.
"You're SICK, IF YOU THINK WHAT YOU DID TO ME WAS REMOTELY OKAY, GET OFF OF ME!" Kamala barked
Vanessa's tears fell freely now, her voice breaking as she tried to hold Kamala still. "I didn't mean for it to go this far. I never wanted it to be like this."
Before Vanessa could speak again, the door burst open, and Agent Wallace stormed in, taking in the scene with cold fury
IN THE MOMENT
Agent Wallace pushed open the hospital room door with urgency, the scene unfolding before him unsettling.
Kamala was yelling, her voice raw with a mix of anger and fear, her body struggling to push Vanessa off as she pinned her down. Vanessa, straddling Kamala, was muttering frantic apologies, her hands attempting to hold Kamala in place but trembling as she did so.
"You violated me!" Kamala shouted, her words cracking with emotion, her eyes blazing despite the lingering effects of the drugs in her system.
She tried to twist away from Vanessa's grip, her movements wild and uncoordinated. "You—you're evil! You—you did it because you wanted to!"
Vanessa's face was a mix of panic and remorse, her lips trembling as she spoke over Kamala's accusations. "I didn't have to—I didn't—but you don't understand, Kamala, I—" Her voice broke as she leaned in closer, trying to hold Kamala's thrashing arms.
"I just... I just could, okay? I thought... I thought if I could control something—if I could control you—I wouldn't lose everything. But it wasn't supposed to be like this."
Tears began to stream down Vanessa's face as she continued to grapple with Kamala, her own desperation blending into the growing tension in the room.
"I never meant for this to happen, Kamala. I never wanted it to go this far."
Kamala's face twisted in anguish, a guttural sob breaking from her chest as she pushed against Vanessa's weight.
"You took everything from me. Everything! And you thought it was okay—because you could?" Kamala sobbed as she pushed against the younger woman, her attempts at freeing herself steadily growing weaker
Vanessa tried to calm her, her hands shaking as she smoothed Kamala's hair back, but her gestures only made Kamala scream louder. "You didn't have to do that to me!" Kamala's voice is full of rage.
"You just did it—because you could!" Kamala huffed out as she felt herself growing slower, the appearance of the heart rate line beginning to slow as she continued to struggle
Kamala was red in the face, her arms tiered, tears stained her face.
Her gasps for breath slowed. She was exhausted.
Wallace's voice cut through the tension like a knife.
"Enough!" he barked, his face set in grim determination as he stepped forward, pulling Vanessa off of Kamala. Vanessa stumbled backward, her body trembling as Wallace grabbed her by the arm, his grip firm.
"You've done enough damage"
Kamala collapsed back against the pillows, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her face as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes flickered between Wallace and Vanessa, the pain written in every line of her face.
"Where is Jessica"she cooed as he cared at the ceiling
"She's fucking dead, like you should be!" Jessica yelled s she was pushed out of the room to another agent
Wallace redirected his attention to Kamala.
Wallace's gaze didn't leave Vanessa as he spoke to Kamala. "Are you okay, Kamala? Did she hurt you?"
Kamala wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her voice hoarse as she replied, "She... she drugged me, Wallace. She used me. I didn't know—I didn't know any of this." Her voice cracked, the weight of everything crashing down on her.
"Miss Harris, everything is going to be okay, I'll have a doctor come and give you some assistance..." He reassured as he turned to leave the room
Kamala held her handout to stop him, her hand trembling as she did so.
"Jessica? Where is Jessica, please just tell me" She said begging, she'd been trying to distract herself from being stuck in this bed, not being allowed out of this room, no calls, no updating her family, nothing but radio silence.
The news had seemingly moved on from her attempt, but they were now on the conspiracy she's gotten her team to expose...
The only thing they didn't know was how terribly everything seemed to be turning out.
"We have an idea where she is, we found her blood in the trunk of Mr. Maddox's car, we believe she may have been harmed and left at another location..." He said as Kamala's head fell back and she was out
a loud snore erupted from her mouth as she leaned into the pillow.
He shook his head understandingly and left eh room
The door shut behind them, and Kamala was left alone in the sterile room, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her like an avalanche, but she wasn't awake to worry about it anymore. Still asleep, she'd grown used to pulling in the thin hospital blanket tighter around herself, the feeling doing little to sooth the overwhelming emptiness settling in.
The faint buzz of the television was the only sound left in the room, and her soft snores.
You woke to darkness. Your eyes wouldn't open fully swollen and crusted over with something thick.
Your head throbbed, each pulse a sharp, merciless stab of pain. As you tried to look around, you could feel the back of your head thump in sync with the mounting headache.
You tried to move, but your body felt like lead, uncoordinated and foreign, your muscles barely responding. Panic washed over you as you realized you didn't know where you were.
A groan escaped your lips, the sound cracking in your throat, your voice hoarse and weak.
One moment you were going to sleep after work, and then you woke up here.
Like this?
Every inch of your body screamed in pain as you shifted, your hands pressing into the damp, uneven ground. Dirt and gravel dug into your palms, and you let out a small yelp.
You were in a ditch—that much was clear—but how had you ended up here?
Your breath came in shallow gasps, each inhale burning your lungs.
Had you gotten drunk?
The sharp taste of iron clung to your tongue, and your lips were split, swollen, and bleeding. You tried to wipe your face, but your hand trembled violently, barely making it to your cheek.
Was anyone there?
You forced yourself to move, each twitch of muscle sending jagged bolts of pain through your body. With great effort, you pulled yourself to your knees, then staggered to your feet, nearly collapsing again as your legs buckled.
Have you driven here?
Your vision blurred as you blinked through the pain. You couldn't see anything clearly—just a dark smear of shapes in the distance. Your arms flailed, searching for balance as you stumbled forward.
"Help..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. The pain made it hard to breathe, let alone speak.
What day was it?
You limped forward, the broken road beneath your feet jagged and unforgiving.
"My shoe, where the fuck are my shoes?!" You began as you looked down at what you hoped were your feet, you quickly remember you can see
Who has done this to you?
You couldn't tell which direction you were going, only that you had to move. Each turn of your head did little to orient you.
You were always supposed to be by Kamala's side. What about your job? Have you ever spoken to Kamala?
Every step was agony, your bare feet scraping against the cracked asphalt. Your knees threatened to give out, your entire body pleading with you to stop, but you couldn't.
You had a job to do, or at least you still had one. How long have you been gone?
In the distance, faint sounds reached your ears—the hum of a car engine, the distant rush of tires over pavement. A burst of hope flared in your chest. You were near the road.
Staggering, you lurched toward the sound, your body trembling with every movement. You swayed, your steps uneven, disoriented by the swelling in your face and the blood pounding in your head. You didn't know how far you'd gone—time felt like it was slipping away—but finally, you heard it: a car, getting closer.
You stumbled toward it, arms flailing for balance, your heart racing.
The car stopped. You could hear the engine idling, and could sense the presence of someone watching you.
"Help!" you tried to scream, but it came out as a garbled cry. Your lips were too swollen, your mouth too dry. You waved your arms weakly, but your balance gave way, and you collapsed onto the side of the road, your body wracked with pain as you hit the ground.
You try to get up, your legs refuse to help you.
You manage to pull yourself mere inches from the ground before your body forces you back down.
"Miss, stay down." You heard someone's voice come soothing as you can feel tears try to free themselves
A beam of light flashed across your face, sharp pain shoots through your eyes, blinding you as you threw your arms up to shield them.
You could see much, but whatever that light felt like the sun attempting to take your sight for good.
You could hear footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate.
Your vision swam, and through the blur of pain and fear.
You could just make out a figure standing over you, the light from their flashlight silhouetting them in the darkness.
A small speck over absolute darkness.
"Please..." you whimpered, your voice barely more than a breath.
The figure knelt down beside you, the beam of the flashlight tracing your broken form as you tried to focus on them, fear rising in your chest.
"Who... are you?" you rasped, your voice trembling.
But there was no answer—only the sound of the figure's steady breathing, and the cold, hard click of something metal being pulled from their pocket.
You didn't know what to say.
You couldn't remember.