Poison

Chapter Twenty-Four

Trigger Warning: This chapter depicts attempted suicide. 

Christine sat up with a gasp in her bed. The sudden movement caused her to groan in agony and reach for the thick blanket wrapped tightly around her. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sign that she was alive. That and the physical pain that she was in. She felt like she had been ran over.

A creak in the chair across the room drew her attention. Maria adjusted in her sleep. She looked so small in the chair compared to her normal towering demeanor. Her face was puffy, and cheeks were stained from tears.

Which made her nightmares even more than that? They were true.

Amilla was gone, Christine was alive. All because Christine murdered her own sister.

She was a monster.

The bile in her stomach began to creep up her throat and she couldn't hold it in for much longer. She grabbed her IV drip and used it as a support system. She held in her scream of protest as she lifted her body out of her bed and onto the floor. Shuffling to the bathroom, she used her other hand to keep the contents of her stomach in her mouth. After locking the door behind her, Christine threw herself at the toilet. She barely managed to lift the lid before she vomited into the toilet. Her eyes watered from the violent convulsions, and she cried, unwillingly. It felt like an eternity before she finished. She groaned and leaned against the shower stall on the floor. Laying her cold forehead onto her arms, she began to sob.She could still hear the sound of the knife embedding in between her shoulder blades. She felt her shudder in pain once the initial shock wore off and she knew what had happened. She felt ashamed that she had stabbed her in the back, like the coward that she is. Instead of accepting that her sister was going to kill her, she killed her sister instead. There had to have been another way to stop her. Christine was just too weak to do it. Her blood trickled down her hand at first, then it felt like someone began to pour it all over her hands. She began to get sick again as she imagined the warmth and the metallic smell. Her hands began to get warm and she could have sworn that she felt it on her. Christine peeked up from her sullen state and saw that her something was dripping from her hands.

Blood.

She looked down and noticed that she had managed to rip her IV out and left a trail of blood. She located the needle, on the ground next to her, and stared at it. The thin piece of metal still had some blood on it from where it was in her arm. It lied still next to her, calling to her. She felt how inviting the needle looked and she wanted to welcome it with open arms. She wanted to feel the same pain that Amilla must have felt when Christine murdered her. Her body must have made the decision for her because all Christine could feel was the needle sitting in her hand, waiting for her next move. She held onto the handle of the needle for far too long before she used it like a handle to plunge into her wrist. Christine refused to cry out as she cut herself, she didn't deserve to. Amilla didn't cry so that meant that she didn't deserve to either. She gripped the handle harder as she stabbed at her wrist. Eventually her tears made it too hard to see, so Christine used the amount of pain she was in to guage where she was at. The stinging sensation slowly subsided and all she could feel was the pressure of needle. That wasn't enough for her, she needed to feel pain. She needed to be hurt.

The door handle jiggled and she could hear Maria calling her, but she was drifting. Christine tried to grab the needle in her other hand, but her fingers were numb and it made it difficult to grip. The needle slipped from her fingers and rolled towards the toilet. Christine used her other hand to reach towards it when the door was broken down. Christine didn't even look up, she kept reaching for the needle that she needed.