~Even more Complicated~

Air. I needed air.

My body arched violently against the silk sheets, legs kicking uselessly as the pillow pressed harder against my face. My fingernails scraped desperately at the fabric, finding only small, rough hands gripping it from above. Not R's familiar grasp - these were feminine hands, trembling with nervous energy even as they tried to kill me.

Nisha.

The realization cut through my panic like a knife. All those sweet smiles, those lingering looks - they hadn't been simple jealousy. They'd been calculation. The maid had waited patiently for this moment when R would leave me vulnerable.

Black spots danced across my vision as my struggles grew weaker. The luxurious bedroom blurred around me - the gold-leaf ceiling, the crystal chandelier, all fading to gray as my oxygen ran out.

Then - BANG.

The door crashed open with enough force to shake the wall. The pillow's weight disappeared so suddenly I nearly rolled off the bed. I gasped, the air burning my throat like I'd swallowed broken glass. Something warm splattered across my outstretched palm.

Through tear-blurred eyes, I saw a white robe swirl as someone moved toward me. For one terrible moment, I thought Nisha had come back to finish the job. Then the pillow lifted, and R's face swam into view, backlit by the chandelier like some twisted angel of death.

"There, there," he cooed, his voice dripping with false comfort as he arranged the pillow beneath my head - the same pillow that had nearly been my death shroud. His fingers lingered at my temple, wiping away sweat with disturbingly gentle strokes.

I raised a shaking hand to my forehead and came away with red-smeared fingers. Blood. My blood? Nisha's? The room spun as I tried to make sense of it.

Behind R, Nisha's body lay sprawled across the marble floor like a discarded doll. Her maid's uniform - the same crisp black-and-white outfit she'd worn every day - was now soaked crimson from the chest down. One bare foot twitched spasmodically before going still.

I frowned. I raised my hand and squint my eyes at the double stain till my vision packed itself together. My eyes widened in shock and I gasped leading to another fit of coughs as my hand got snatched by R. He used the end of the belt of his robe to wipe my hands.
          As my cough subsided, I looked to the pillow by my leg to see countless spots of red big and small.
          No, he couldn’t have possibly.
          “You should be glad she didn’t use a knife.” He laughed as he dropped my hand to my side. Of course this was funny. His twisted type of humor.
          My eyes looked behind where R stood. Her barefoot legs were sprawled on the marbled floor, stains of blood oddly fitting the aesthetic in the gold lit room. I was tempted to look at the rest of the body but I won’t be doing myself a favour by doing that. I averted my eyes to the majestic white ceiling adorned by ceiling lights and a gold chandelier. Thankfully it wasn’t stained in crimson red. “You didn’t have to kill…”
          “You’d rather I left her to kill you?”
          “I’m going to die anyway.”
          “On my accord!” He pushed. His psychotic side showing for a second.
          But I was used to it by now. “Wrong.” I responded, took a second and sighed. “You could have pushed her out of the way – I don’t know – warn her?” I acted like I wasn’t relieved she was gone. Maybe she would have been around but she creeped me out to say the least.
          “Once a killer, always a killer. She tried to kill you once and she’ll try it again. It was always going to be you or her.” He sighed in exasperation. “If she used a knife. She would still be alive. Have you considered that?”
I was silenced.

Suddenly I was glad she didn't use a knife.
---

I couldn't sleep.

Not with Nisha's blood still pooling on the marble, its metallic scent mixing with the room's usual lavender perfume. Not with the memory of those small, determined hands pressing down on the pillow.