𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

- Cristine -

Blergh!

Clutching the sides of the toilet bowl tightly, Cristine spewed out the transparent bile mostly digested in her stomach. She felt her gut contract painfully and forced out what was left in her body. Blindly searching to flush down the congealed contents, Cristine watched the water drain, face drained from blood and looking exhausted. Cristine wiped at her mouth, but instantly winced from the throbbing pain in her face, even opening her mouth hurt. The first slap, at least a decade ago, was the worst. It was unexpected and her tiny body couldn't handle the weight and strength of the stun. To her tender figure, it was like being punched by a slab of concrete and after she had to listen to the words of hatred of her stepmother, all while remembering the haze of her father who promised it would get better. Sunken through her knees, half slanted over the toilet, Cristine breathed out before forcing her body up to scuttle to the mirror. She peered at the weary imitation staring back with those listless pitch back eyes. They were glazed over into a lightless and unfocused glare. Her mind momentarily lapsed deeply within the crevices of her psyche where she was safe from all the pain. There was no one there to hurt her, manipulate, or ridicule her. But doing that for too long would only make the aftermath worse and Cristine pinched her bruising mouth and the pain shocked her back to reality. The edges of her eyes curved downwards and after a blink, her jet black pupil dilated against the rich dark brown of her iris. At least, on skin as brown as hers the bruising was a bit harder to spot, but with every muscle movement the pain seared through her face.

Cristine slid down the bathroom floor, back pressed against the door, legs pulled in with her elbows resting on her knees. The wood dug into the bones of her shoulders. The scarce splinters pricked through the fabric of her clothes onto her skin. Cristine shakily kept her breath even, the sound so loud inside her completely silent room. Her vision blurred from the shed tears that trickled down her warm cheeks. The cool steel of her knife gripped in both hands shaky. She didn't know when she took the knife out, but holding it, she felt safer.

"It's not your fault Cris." Easier said than believed at this point. But lately, it was the guilt that scratched at Cristine's heart. This was her idea, after all. All of it was. And she kept more than one dirty secret. It wasn't the first time she'd given Troy the incentive to torture and kill. Cristine thought back to the experiments, thought back to that family in the dessert. The little bodies she buried with her bare hands. She remembered the dingy and hot air of that night. If it wasn't for her journals, her knowledge and her piqued interest to see what else she could find out about the infected and use to their advantage. All of that was on her too. She should have never come here. Cristine her heart thumped. She heard the blood pass through her ears - beat, beat, beat—and looked down at her hands. She saw the flash of red leaking between the crevices of her palms. She noticed how her wet hands shook around her blade and inhaled. Grinding her teeth, she threw the knife somewhere in the back of the bathroom and her face writhed with agonizing ache that screamed collapse. She pressed the lower part of her injured palms hard into her eye sockets and a streak of red smudge over her face. Suddenly, she was hot and sweaty, so hot that she wanted to douse herself under the shower. But the moment she tried to get up to do that it left her body unsteady. The tremble shocked down into her hips and towards her legs, leaving her shaky. As if all the energy just drained out of her. Yet, her racing heart seemed to pound even faster, even harder. She tried taking a deep breath to calm herself, but her inhales were sharp and shallow. Her vision went darker and narrow, like a kaleidoscope.

"Ah!" Cristine pressed her palm into the front of her shirt, fingertips digging deep and felt the wetness seeping through. She bit on her lip and a thin trail of blood trailed down. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't even do that and the muscles in her face cramped together. It was so hard to breath and at one point Cristine felt the pain in her lungs turn agonizingly sharp.

"Hold your breath for four seconds... come on I know you can do it. Even if you don't want me to, I'll be here." Troy reassured her in a soft voice and slowly closed the distance and Cristine watched the man settle down on his knee. His eyes were curious and cold.

"Go away." Cristine squeezed through clenched teeth, eyes screwed together, vaguely aware she was talking to a figment of her imagination and a flashback of the last time she had this heavy of a panic attack. Back out when she did what she had to do.

Troy casually raised his arms, a sign he wasn't going to hurt. He quickly smiled. "I'm here for a reason killer. We've done this before... in the cabin remember? When you cut, gutted, and maimed that garbage. You did good back then. This isn't that different. Just listen to my voice." Finding it harder and harder to find her voice, Cristine searched for her breath greedily. The vague silhouette, those dark pools of blue that peered back as if she was a specimen for his next experiment. "Now. Hold your breath..." Cristine nearly choked on the air when she did, but the piercing gaze was a lifeline that latched onto. Those seconds lasted for what felt like an eternity.

"Good. Now breathe out." Cristine parted her lips and exhaled the air stuck inside her lungs. "Breathe in, breath out. Just give yourself space. And don't rush it." It helped that he regulated his breath together with her and soon enough the tightness in her chest separated itself from her lungs, liberating her. It was simply her and Troy catching their breaths, until it all went deadly still. Cristine's burning eyes fluttered and she stared into the dark abyss of her empty room again. He wasn't there and Cristine's hit the back of her head against the door and knees a few times before looking at the ceiling. Thick tears now drizzled down her warm face. The nasally sound in the back of her throat shaky and stinging. Cristine definitely thought she made all the right calls. She had to... needed to or- her people would be dead. Her family would be dead. She used whatever and whoever she could to at least try and keep them safe. So why- why did it feel like her body was shutting down? She thought it would be much easier. Why did it hurt so much no matter what she did. Why couldn't she just feel nothing like her father did? Like Troy did-

"Cristine?"

Her thoughts came to a staggering halt, Cristine went completely still when she heard the hollow voice at the other side of her door. She quickly scrambled for her knife that she threw away and checked her hip, relaxing at the gun. A sharp gleam settled within her eyes. Her eyebrows scrunched together when the missing link to this horror and her anxiety appeared like a haunting ghost. The man who kept up this lies, the deceit... the pretend. Chin quivering, Cristine dipped her head to her chest. Her thoughts fogged up her wet stare and her twitching face went slack. All her conflicting emotions simmered down into a condensed ball. Contained. She didn't even feel the way her nails dug deep into her cut skin from how the bones pulled so tightly. It didn't hurt. It gave her a clarity she needed. She could barely process that Troy would actually cross a line, look her in the face and pretend nothing happened. He played her like a fiddle and lied to her face, after he said all those empty words of trust. Cristine rubbed the bridge of her nose, squeezing her burning eyes together and sniffed. The only focus, the only person able to calm her down now was the face of her sweet sister. Thinking of Hailey flooded her mind with an unexpected calmness. "She's the only one I can still trust." Despite not having her physically near, Cristine's lucidity slowly resurfaced from the dark corners of her mind.

"I know you're in there Cristine," Troy said, "I can see your shadow through the cracks of the door." Cristine her shoulders visibly drooped and after rearranging her hazy mind, she slowly got up from the floor. Unclenching her reddened palms, she rubbed her wet fingers together and snapped her head up, expression severe. Cristine twisted the doorknob and swung the door open and came face to face with Troy.

Currently writing the big (or maybe not so big?) Troy & Cristine chapter! I was on a break, but I had a few notes I scribbled down for inspiration of the next chapter, which is up too!