The Blood Between Us

(Ella's POV) ---- “Woah, she’s alive… how is she unscathed?” The voice came from somewhere far away, muffled, like I was underwater. Then another voice answered, sharp, uncertain. “There’s blood everywhere...how is she even breathing?” Something cold touched my neck. A beam of light flashed across my eyes. I blinked, and the world came rushing back...sirens, shouting, the heavy smell of iron and smoke. I turned my head and saw red...Blood. Blood? It was everywhere...on the marble floor, on the curtains, on my trembling hands. My stomach twisted as I tried to move. The sticky warmth beneath me made me look down… and that was when I saw them. My mother. My father. Lying so still. My heart froze, the sound of my own breathing loud and broken. For a moment, my brain refused to understand. I blinked once, twice, thinking maybe it was a nightmare. Maybe they’d wake up. But the moment I saw my mother’s hair soaked in blood, her pale hand reaching toward my father’s… I screamed. It tore out of me, raw and ugly, the kind of scream that didn’t sound human. Someone grabbed me. “Miss, stay still! Stay still!” a man’s voice shouted. He was wearing a dark uniform, his face a blur. My vision swirled. The flashing red and blue lights painted everything like a crime scene in hell. “No… no, please, tell me they’re breathing,” I whispered, trying to crawl toward them. But my arms were shaking too much to move. I slipped, my hand landing in blood again. “She’s in shock,” another voice said. “Get the stretcher.” I didn’t understand what was happening. Everything was spinning...the furniture was shattered, the chandelier had fallen, glass sparkled everywhere like deadly snow. My parents’ guards… two of them lay near the entrance, unmoving. I couldn’t tell who else was alive or dead. And through all of it, my mind was blank. I couldn’t remember a thing before this moment. Not one. We’d eaten dinner together. I’d kissed my mom goodnight. I remembered that. Then what? Then nothing. Just black. And now this. They carried me out of the house, and the air outside hit me like ice. Cameras flashed from beyond the police tape, people whispering. The Styles Mansion m******e, someone said. My name, my family’s name, already falling from strangers’ lips like a headline. They put me inside an ambulance, the lights blinding, the sound of sirens roaring in my ears. I stared out the window as the mansion grew smaller behind us, my heart numb, my brain trying to piece together fragments that didn’t exist. I wanted to cry. But I couldn’t. I wanted to remember. But I couldn’t. All I could do was sit there, trembling, with my parents’ blood drying on my skin. --- The hospital smelled too clean. Too white. Too bright. They ran tests, drew blood, flashed lights into my eyes. “She’s fine. No internal bleeding, no fractures, but she was drugged... sleeping gas,” one of the nurses said. “She’s just in shock.” Shock. Drugged? That was the word everyone used, like it was supposed to explain the way my chest felt hollow, or why my throat burned from screaming. I sat on the hospital bed with a blanket around my shoulders, staring at the tiled floor, feeling like I was going to float away. A doctor came in with a clipboard. He looked kind but exhausted. “Miss Styles,” he said gently, “you’re very lucky to be alive.” “Lucky?” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “They’re… they’re dead, aren’t they?” He hesitated. Then he nodded. “I’m sorry.” I don’t remember falling apart. I just remember sound leaving my body. A cry so deep it didn’t feel like mine. I clutched the blanket tighter, rocking back and forth, gasping until I could barely breathe. I screamed their names, over and over, until a nurse had to hold me still. When I finally stopped, the world felt even emptier. I asked them to let me see them. They said no. “Not right now,” the nurse said softly. “You need rest.” But how do you rest when your whole life just ended? I lay there for what felt like hours, staring at the wall, my mind replaying that moment...opening my eyes, the pool of blood, my parents’ lifeless faces. The more I thought about it, the less real it felt. And then… the doubt crept in. What if I did it? It was ridiculous, impossible...but the thought wouldn’t leave me. I was the only one alive. The only one untouched. I didn’t even have a bruise. The police had said something like that when they found me, hadn’t they? “How is she unscathed?” I pressed my palms to my ears, shaking my head. “No, no, I didn’t… I didn’t do anything.” But my voice sounded weak, like I wasn’t even sure myself. I tried to remember that night again. The dinner, the laughter, my father’s wine glass… Then darkness. Then waking up in blood. That was it. A hole in my memory that refused to fill. --- When the knock came, I already knew who it was. The nurses exchanged glances before the door opened, and two policemen stepped inside. One of them...a tall man with hard eyes...looked at me like I was a puzzle he’d already solved. “Miss Ella Styles,” he said, his tone flat. “We need you to come with us.” “Why?” My voice cracked. “It’s procedure,” he said. “You were the only survivor at the scene.” The words hit like stones. Only survivor. The other officer, younger, avoided my eyes as he added quietly, “You’re not under arrest. We just need a statement.” But their expressions told me everything... they didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe that I couldn’t remember. “Can I—can I at least call someone?” I asked. “A lawyer, maybe? I don’t know what’s happening.” “You can make a call at the station,” the tall one said. My heart sank. I felt like a child again, small and helpless. The nurse tried to say something, but the policeman’s look silenced her. I stood up slowly, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. My legs trembled as I took the first step. Every sound in the hospital seemed to echo...the beeping machines, the soft murmurs of nurses, the metallic sound of the officers’ badges. I followed them quietly. Everyone stared as we passed. Some with pity, some with suspicion. I could almost hear their thoughts: That’s her. The Styles girl. The one who survived. Outside, the night was cold and cruel. The city lights glimmered, indifferent to my world ending. One of the officers opened the car door for me. “Just routine questions,” he said. “You’ll be back soon.” I nodded, though my throat was dry. My hands were still shaking when I climbed into the backseat. The blanket slipped from my shoulders, and for a second, I caught my reflection in the glass. My face looked pale, streaked with dried tears, my eyes hollow. Who was I now? The daughter of two dead parents. The sole survivor of a m******e. And maybe...their killer. The car started moving. The hospital lights faded behind us, swallowed by the dark. I looked out the window, trying to convince myself this was just a nightmare, that I’d wake up soon. But the world outside was too real, the air too cold, the ache in my chest too deep. I didn’t know what waited for me at the police station. Answers? Accusations? Maybe both. But one thing I did know... whatever had happened that night wasn’t over. Why did the killers let me live?... Am I just a pawn in their silly game?.