#xandercolt

She didn't feel the entry. She didn't take notice at all due to the man being competent enough to have used a silencer. She didn't notice until after she dropped off her dagger, her gloves and her darts. Her hands were bleeding, she noticed that much. It seemed the darts she was hiding in her gloves had dug into her skin. 

She had managed to find a pet store, still well deserted with all the little animals still there. She would have taken all of them if she could, but she figured more than one would be too obvious. She did manage to hide them all in a building further from the fire, giving them food, water, even having stolen a few toys for the little things. She kept three of the animals; a Yorkshire Terrier puppy, a Persian cat, and a Tabby cat. The Tabby was for herself, while the yorkie and persian were for Miriam when she came to visit. She got the animals into her flat before she noticed what was going on with her.

The pressure to her right side was steady. It didn't hurt her, between the compression of her clothing to her congenital insensitivity to pain, she only felt the pressure. The fact the pressure wasn't leaving is what hinted her to something. Though, she didn't bat an eye when she looked and saw it. 

Blood. There was blood. The bullet didn't go all the way through her, but she was still bleeding. The site surprised her, froze her. She'd been shot before; her right shoulder blade, back when she was fifteen. Now her right side, just above her hip. 

She needed to find Xander. She knows what she needs to do, but she can't do it herself. She doesn't even know how much time had passed since she got the wound. Between that and her hands bleeding, she could easily bleed out if not handled right away. 

She's lucky she was wearing the compression garments, otherwise she would have died, most likely. They kept her bleeding to a minimum, even as she banged on Xander's door, realized he wasn't there, and left the building. 

Christian wasn't the brightest tool on the planet, but he had at least one man on his side who was smart. He waited until just the right moment before taking his shot. He might have been a good aim, but he took the shot, that was all his job asked of.

Her mind was fuzzy by the time she climbed down all those stairs. She hardly realized the phone she was using to call Xander's number wasn't her own, but one she took off someone else. 

Voice mail. He didn't pick up, and she was sent to his voice mail. The power out didn't end until just a short while ago, he's probably still doing what he can to help others out. "X-Xander.. Xander, I.." she barely got a few words out before she dropped the phone. Cheaply made thing, broke the instant it hit the ground. 

Her mind was taking over at that point. In that moment, Margaery wasn't there. She saw Mason, she heard him say things to her, but that was it. She wasn't consciously part of the real world anymore, only in her mind. 

Margaery didn't notice when a familiar voice had called out to her, or when she was taken to the hospital to get treated. She didn't hear anyone talking to her. She looked like she was awake, until she blanked out in the hospital itself. She wasn't consciously awake, however. Her personal mind was lost in her own thoughts, almost as if she were on an entirely different plane. She was there, but she wasn't. It's a defense her head made for her, it was how she handled so much in the psycho ward when she was younger. She'd send herself off to another world created in her head, she'd block out the real memories in place of something else.

There were various reasons as to why Margaery was initially worried about going to London. Aside from her general lack of connections, which is slowly becoming less of a problem, it was who was meant to be there. 

Margaery never told Xander what happened to her. She didn't tell anyone aside from Franklin, and she didn't even tell him the whole story. The only ones who knew everything were the beings she created in her mind to deal with the pain, who she still believes to be real, and who she can't recall telling the tales to. She thought it better to hide it, to conceal her fears were they couldn't show weakness. 

This was meant to be a new start for the girl. Away from Christian, away from the turmoil of New York, yet further destruction littered across London as if it were another version of New York. Yet the connection to her past that is meant to be hiding out somewhere here keeps her from letting go. She needs the resolution, she needs to find out where he is, and make sure he suffers more than he made her. 

Doctor Karson Bennett. The doctor she got around a year into her stay at the psycho ward, or what she formerly refers to as the 'hospital'. She was hardly thirteen when he started coming onto her, too young to properly understand what he was implying, what he wanted. It wasn't as if anyone listened to her either way. Analysis described her as unable to process thoughts clearly, claiming her as mentally insane.

She knows fully well now, it was just a rouse. All to trick her into being weak, letting her guard down. He used her, she never trusted him, she let him think she had. In the end, it hadn't mattered. He was transferred to London six years ago, after taking any freedom she had left away from her, far before she could give proper consent to such actions. He hadn't stopped at once, either. He continued up until she was freed from the hospital, and she hid it all. From the bruises, to the scar on her throat where her nurse cut into it, all the way to what Dr. Bennett did to her.

She found he was transferred here years ago, after she built up enough credibility and skill to get rid of him without getting caught. It seemed better, anyways, he was far too respected in the community for her to kill him without it being suspicious. She more than likely could now, though many of her fears still applied to the man. 

She has no intentions of letting that stop her. Not anymore.

She won't let Xander into her flat, despite how often she sneaks into his. When she got the money for a laptop, she got it as soon as she could. She started researching as much about him as she could. Various newspaper clippings from the library have been collected by the girl, hidding away in the drawer of her desk. Files upon files of the man who ruined her, who took away nearly any hopes she had of the world. 

He traumatized her, every session with her he tried to implant it into her brain that she wanted it, that he only gave her what she wanted or needed. She was smart enough to know it was a lie, yet found nobody else smart enough to see what he was, nor listen to her claims. She knew when she was just a young girl that she'd have to take care of him herself, whether inside or when she left the hospital, those beings she created in her head only agreed with her. They told her to kill him, the voices truthfully claiming him evil, the delusions encouraging her tests on others for when she could finally destroy him in ways worse than he did her.

She grew a sort of liking to killing, trying oh so hard to hide her urges yet still they constantly show through. 

She hides the files on her computer, she hides the files she's printed out, only in case Xander decides to snoop, she'd hope he'd at least trust her enough not to go through her drawers. She's grown obsessed with finding him now that she's here.

She's been drinking, much more than normal. She's been searching so long, yet he just seems to hop from location to location. There's never a definite spot where he could be. She's already on her third bottle of whiskey. She despises whiskey, but if she can't feel physical pain, she sees no reason to feel emotional damage.

Of course, she's too exasperated to notice the damage. Even when she grows angry for no real reason in particular and tosses the bottle to the ground. A shard dug it's way into her right arm, causing it to start bleeding fairly quickly. She doesn't care. She simply grabs a needle and thread, and sews it up herself. It's not healthy, she knows it. She knows it's likely for infection if she doesn't get it looked at by a proper hospital, but she would never willingly go.

She hasn't opened the pack of cigarettes her brother got her. She's not really been smoking much as of late. Her mind is focused on one task at night, she avoids sleeping in order to continue her goals. During the day, she seems perfectly normal, of course the long sleeves warn in raging heat are more than likely a red flag to some. It's no different than the chokers she wears to hide the hardly faded scar on her neck, nor the medical certificates she made her father never tell her siblings of. It's only at night her intentions are clear. When she's all alone, with nobody but the voices in her head and the delusions made from her mind.

Her only goal is to kill the bastard she holds completely responsible for her downfall. He who broke her. She hates this man worse than even her younger brother, and she absolutely despises Christian, especially since he claimed to have skinned the cat that their mother claimed to get rid of. He's not her concern as of right now, at two in the morning when she's all alone. Only Dr. Bennett. 

Really, it wouldn't matter to her if she got caught. Not anymore. If she got caught after killing him, so be it. There is nothing that could be worse than what he did to her. She will find him this time, and she will end him.