Bellatrix knew that Rodolphus wasn't going last much longer at this rate. His face was progressively getting more ghostly with each passing moment, and Orla was taking far too long to arrive. Where the bloody hell was that bint of a healer?
She watched as his expression finally cracked into a grimace of pain, and she hissed aloud. She began to look around, waiting for her to show up even as she began to rip fabric from her own robes, trying to stifle the flow of blood that poured from her husband's wounds.
Each second that passed seemed like an eternity, and Bellatrix was not known for her patience. She screamed Orla's name, cursing for her elves, not understanding why she hadn't arrived yet.