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❛ 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 . . . ❜ 000. concerning beth
━━━━━━━━━━━
A YEAR PRIOR
Beth is so sure a single emotion could kill you.
She'd felt it.
Sadness like a tight fist around her throat, clenching tighter and tighter until her eyes water and her lungs seize. A gulp of air that's not going anywhere, a pinch in the back of her chest as everything withers within her.
Then happiness: a bitter pill on her tongue that never did anyone any good anyway. Blood rushing pupils dilating and then the world rushing out from underneath her. A high (higher and higher and higher) and then the fall.
Falling in love, with substance or person, that had never worked out quite in her favour. She'd always thought you needed rehabilitation just for a love (like that) gone wrong. When something's deep in your veins like that, it's not going to end well. No matter how good it feels, how safe you feel in the palm of someone's hand, something's going to give.
For Beth, it had been everything.
In the fallout, so she's found, there's anger.
Yeah, that'll be the one that gets her.
If something has to kill her, it'll be rage.
Whether it's like a knife in her back that she can't remove on her own, or just a second heartbeat, Beth knows it won't go away. It's not a friend, either, it's just a burning feeling that lies under skin. No matter how deeply she scratches it won't go away.
It burns, from the inside out.
It also contradicts her whole existence in a way that feels like a comedy; a deeply sadistic comedy of errors, worthy of applause or at least laughter across a crowd of spectators. ––
No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it breaks and remoulds the thoughts and feelings within her, she can't communicate it. She's tried to explain it, to a therapist across a desk that was older than her––
I'm angry, she'd said, I'm really fucking angry, all the fucking time.
It tasted sweet on the tip of her tongue. Not in the nice way, but in the way she'd imagine it'd feel to bite into a cyanide capsule. The sweet before the poisoning. The relief before the death.
But they'd only asked –– Well, why?
Why?
Why not?
As far as she sees things, she had a right to be angry. She always has. After all, people tend to get pissed off by the unexpected. She never expected her life to go to shit, she never expected to be hooked on practically anything she get hands on, all before 30 years old. She definitely hadn't expected to have her surgical licence revoked due to malpractice ––
