The Endgame (BBC Sherlock) -3-

14. Collateral

My head was pounding, and I felt myself lying on a cold floor. My skin felt...off. Like I was covered in something.

My vision was slowly piecing itself together the more I blinked my eyes. When my vision came into focus, I screamed.

Amanda was lying beside me, eyes unblinking, head turned right towards me. Her skin was covered in her own blood, her face swollen and practically unrecognizable beyond comprehension. As I put my hands to my mouth, I tasted some...metallic.

When I pulled them away, I let out a startled gasp.

My hands were covered in blood. Amanda's blood.

No...I couldn't have. My head hurt even worse now. I panicked. I was missing something. What's the last thing I remember? I remembered Mandy being framed for something there was no way she committed. Moriarty had chloroformed me, and I had fallen unconscious...

And now I woke up to my best friend, dead, and my hands covered in her blood.

This is a dream. This is a dream. I pinched myself and let out a soft yelp. No, it's real. Terrifyingly real. I crawled to Mandy.

"No...No. Mandy." I tapped her face. "Mandy." Hysteric breathing was rising out of my throat.

I put my ear to her chest. No, not her. No.

I looked at her, all bloody and bruised. Her body was a cutting board, a canvas to spread her blood all over. It was fairly fresh too, judging by how wet it was on my hands. My hands that now shook, realizing that my best friend, my maid of honor, was dead.

And it was my fault. Somehow, I killed Amanda. I still couldn't figure that one out. What happened? What time am I not accounting for?

"Mandy," I sobbed. "I-I never meant for this to happen. I'm sorry." I hunched over, letting the animalistic sobs tear through my body. "My god, I'm so sorry." What did they do to me? How did they make me turn into...this? Why can't I remember?

I refused to believe I had a hand in Mandy's murder. I couldn't have. That setup...it was the perfect excuse to kill her. I'll bet Moriarty was in on it.

James Moriarty. The Devil. The reason why my best friend was dead. It wasn't me. It couldn't have been me. I didn't kill her. I didn't...

I sat back, near Mandy's body. I rocked back and forth, hysterically crying. I did this to her. I got her killed. Taylor is never going to forgive me. I won't ever forgive myself. How will I ever explain this to Darien, Kendal, and Madison?

"My, my, this is depressing."

A ripple of rage shuddered up my body. I uncurled myself and saw Moriarty looming, looking down at this scene with faux-sadness, faux-pity. I was vaguely aware of Sebastian flanking him.

My grief disappeared. It was replaced with anguish, agony, and the intent to maim and kill. Slowly, I rose from my position, bloody hands balling into fists. I felt rabid. He killed her. He's the reason she's dead.

"You." I full-out charged for him, but Sebastian intercepted me. "You son of a bitch! You murderer! I'm going to rip your damn head off!"

Moriarty didn't react; he just stood there, watching me with amusement. I fought against his detail, taking my fury out on them instead of the man I really wanted to hurt.

"I told you to be a good girl and listen," he said hollowly. "I told you both. I warned you what would happen, but you didn't believe me. Now look what you've done."