#OXANA | SELF PARAS.

[lcdyinlecther]

𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥, 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 | SELF PARA.

You may bury my body Down by the highway side You may bury my body Down by the highway side

she thought she was unstoppable.

TRIGGER WARNING: attempted murder, blood, guns, violence, gore.

12:50 AM babylon nightclub

oxana could not remember the last time she felt like this. wild. free.

maybe at eighteen, fresh from the clutches of the ties that bind. she could still see the binding marks on her wrists, if she looked close enough. a robotic lifetime, nothing more than cogs and wheels. how refreshing it had felt, to hear the sticks crackling beneath her sneakers. to feel the dampness of the early spring air.

of course she knew what they had to fear. some kind of unknown entity, who had made damn sure to keep itself just out of their reach, the leader of the army of the unknown. things could only feel like heaven for a limited amount of time in this hellscape; perhaps she should have known better, being on serpent grounds. at a serpent party. even still it was the truth -- a bitter pill to swallow. while money could buy happiness -- there was some irony that they couldn't afford a lifetime supply of it. no one could. maybe that was why oxana had found herself loosing her grip on her sainity, the reminders she had given to stay alert. know why we're here. and above all else, protect yourself.

she had felt somewhat confused leaving her conversation with griffin -- maybe there were some serpents that could actually be bearable. perhaps she would feel a little differently when the alcohol wore off, and the headache set in. perhaps their exchange would taste bitter alongside her next morning's coffee, nursing her hangover over a plate of diner's finest. all she had known before were the entitled elite, the one's who paid her to expose who they truly were, be their depraved little plaything -- before the went back home. sometimes to their doting wives, to their children, or the confines of their mother's basements.

all of this felt too good to be true. everyone was talking, laughing, reveling in each other's presence despite the circumstances. even she had gotten lost in it, before she came back down to earth again. both shoes were hanging above the club almost unwilling to drop -- she could hear their aggressor's laughter echoing faintly in her ears. god, she wanted to go home. even still, she wore anya's mask like ornate steel armor.

she wished she were anya now. floating through the crowd of seduction like a woman walking on air, convincing men to open their wallets by simply looking in their direction. and yet, seduction seemed to have a hold on her, the girl oxana wanted to be. the woman in this dress, lipstick blood red, was nothing more than a monster.

if only she could think. remember how to breathe. such an elementary skill is powerless when introduced to the sounds of chatter and an unrelenting bass.

the bathroom. while she knew the bass would echo through the door, but she would at least be able to make out some of her own thoughts. certainly far more private than anywhere she could have found in seduction. there was always someone there. perhaps there was even now, watching her. waiting for the very moment she let her guard down.

little did she know just how right she was.

there are moments before she feels the cool breeze of danger on the back of her neck. with the life she's had, she can feel her stomach drop before someone even dares to act. survival is anything but an easy and thus, one has to make sacrifices — such as one’s own sanity.

breathe, oxana. breathe.

she isn't quite sure how she's managed to get the bathroom all to herself -- but she certainly won't complain. it certainly is lucky, just as she was looking for solace. maybe a bit too lucky. shadows lurk all around them, but the one cast from the outside looms a little larger. if she looked close enough -- she could see it's eyes. red, dark and cold.

she doesn't even see a face -- nor does she bother to look for one. as he, she, it stands there, a demon returning to it's home in the dark, all oxana sees is the barrel of a gun. she can smell it, the hunger for her fear. and while she feels it bubbling in her chest, the dreaded moment she knew was always coming, her face remains stone. she's been here before, and it's ended with her covered in blood and holding the gun.

it walks closer and closer, it's boots slowly making as they slowly come into contact with the tile floor. and yet, she stays in place. for a hothead, even she knew there were times when she had to remain calm and collected. that is, until she feels the barrel of the gun making contact with her forehead. even then, all she offers the being is eye contact.

this being doesn't deserve her words. she will not beg, she will not cry, ask for them to spare her meager life.

instead, she finds an opening. before she can even blink, the sound around her fades into nothingness as she makes the first move -- an attempt to take out their legs. however, oxana misses when she reaches for the gun.

the bang was quieter than she expected -- but the pain is instantanious. eyes travel to the wound in her stomach, unable to even notice the blood on her black dress until she moves her hand into vision. then comes the sound. the screaming outside, the sounds of expensive designer shoes hitting the marble of babylon's floor. good, they're all running for the exit. oxana feels a childish hope that she'll make it too, but the hallway soon becomes her home. she sinks to the floor, back against the mahogany.

funny, how the sound left her again. thankfully, her mind was quiet. even with the amount of blood she had lost, she could still register just enough that she had company.

she would know his voice anywhere -- it calls out to her through the fog clouding her mind. she almost smiles when she hears it, as her blood taints babylon's floors. riley. of course he came for her. there had never been a time when she had to fear death -- at least, not since she became it. oh, how times had changed. now it was she with her hand covering an open wound, wondering why the fuck she had let her guard down. when she had lost her trust in the very gut the bullet had breeched.

he would get her out of this. riley would get her out of this. he would find remi -- they would find sully. sully. despite a vow she had sworn to protect him, protect the ghost riders -- she knew damn well he would be fine. but even still.. she needed to find him. she needed to find the strength to stand on her own and make sure her people were okay, even if she had to hold her wound closed to make that happen.

she has her solace now -- but she had to get shot in the process. oxana grips to riley as much as she can, burying her face in his chest. she can't look at it anymore, this place. it is on a stretcher where she begins to see moving pictures again, so many people trying to talk to her at once as she's being loaded into an ambulence.

" miss? miss? what's your name? "

" o -- oxana. oxana.... semyonova. "

her speech is broken, but it's there. she's alive.

" alright oxana -- we're gonna take care of you sweetheart. you're gonna be alright. you're safe now. "

safe. such a funny word, when you've never quite truly believed in it. saftey was nothing more than a ghost story.

[lcdyinlecther]

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