Page 13 of Collateral Damage

She drags herself inside the door, dripping in her leather, I could already hear her coming with the amount of chains she has smothering her attire. She leans against the frame cracking the wood with the metal, staring at me like I'm a museum antique.

“What’s the matter with you?” I'll be honest. I can barely see straight as she gawks at me, I'm seeing three of her and my muscles are far from functional, I can feel my lips crusting dry and this nausea is beginning to churn in my stomach. Slurred words slide from my mouth, dragging them out with light effort. My energy is non-existent… I have no fight left to feel anything other than acceptance. It's funny how being deprived of drugs results in poisoning your body as punishment.

“Like you care…” If she does that’s a first… a psychopath with feelings beyond murder is unheard of.

“You sound drunk.”Isn’t she a charmer… although fuck I could murder a drink right now. I’ve never had a sip of alcohol in my life but I can imagine it would be far greater than this discomfort.

“I wish I was… it would make this process much easier.” She looks, dare I say,concerned?I’m doing her a favour; she should be grateful this doesn’t have to get messy.

“What process?” A hiccup-like laugh jumps out of me at her curiosity, slumped into my seat with a now very dead arm, strung up like a skinned pig...It’s sweet that she wants the ins and outs of my demise.Very serial killer of her.

“I’m alllll out…” I'm not oblivious to the consequences of my own actions, and I knew this insulin wouldn’t last long, but quite frankly, I have come to terms with my white light, I find it weirdly beautiful…a means to a tragic ending. Not long now and I will be rested with them. Maybe that’s why people aren’t afraid to die? When you have nothing else to live for, death becomes your new residence. The dead become friends and the living become foe.

“Out of what?” Her eyes are sinking. Is that guilt catching up to her yet?Good. This is her fault, now she can stand there and watch me die. Even if I tell her, there is nothing she can do now.

“Insulin.” My eyelids hang heavy over my hazy vision, my body is giving up and I'm waiting for the stage of numbness to take over my body so I can stop feeling this unbearable pain.

“And what does that mean?” Each time she talks, my stomach knots a little tighter. I may be silly to think she actually cares, but there is anguish behind her words, like she is mad that something other than her is going to take my life.

“It meanssss, I have an expiry date…” I roll my head back against the metal frame now digging into my shoulder blades, everything feels twice as painful right now and my head feels twice as big, ready to explode at any given moment.

“What happens if you don’t take it?”Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never been this far gone, I don’t know exactly what is waiting for me, or how long my body will fight to not give up, but I know it’s not pretty, and I'm ok with that. There is no living withoutfear and no peace without pain, being afraid to live and afraid to die concludes weakness, and that is all I have ever been.

“It’s called Hyperglycemia…” I can see her black face paint distort as she quirks her brow in confusion, waiting for me to continue.

“My liver turns into a pool of acid…” I scrunch my face in disgust as the words leave my mouth, and for a moment I don't want to die. I hate vomiting. At this rate I want to ask her to end it quickly so I don’t have to suffer, like she did with them. Like she could do for me. But I am her walking karma, and I want her to suffer for the pain she caused me. I want her to feel mine as I deteriorate in front of her very eyes, maybe ignite that sliver of redemption she has inside her, if there is any, and be too late to stop it. As if she ever would. She is a killer.

“And how long does that take?” Maybe she just wants this process over with, but I refuse to give that to her.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know…” I scoff, almost dribbling as all my muscles relax, contorting against my fragile bones, my blood running cold like fresh tap water.

“How. Long.” She’s frightened, I can feel it in her abrupt questions, in the quiver against her bottom lip. She’s caving, she’s cracking.Maybe there is redemption in her after all.

“Could be anywhere from. Six hours to four days…depending. But not to worry aye… I’m just saving you the trouble. Now you won’t have to dispose of me…” I lie once more, most likely the last lie I will ever tell, two lies in the span of 24 hours,how rebellious. At the rate I'm going, I'd say a day would be a miracle.

“I would have saved myself the trouble…” She smiles, but this time it’s not sinister. It’s genuine. It’s a smile to cover up the fact she is lying too, I know it.

“Such a charmer…”

“I see you have a sense of humour.” She unfolds her arms, the crumpled-up leather rubbing against itself sounds like burning tires. All my senses are amplified right now. She creeps over towards the bed, indenting it as her heavy weight sinks into the mattress by my feet, hunching over with her elbows on the plates of her knees as she glances over at me. Her face will make for a haunting picture when I reach the other side.

“Is it uncomfortable?” I blink subtly acknowledging her concern.Why would she even ask that?

“It’s bearable…”For now.Besides the hot and cold flushes sticking me to the bed, loss of feelings in my legs, the constant nausea lacing the back of my throat and the pounding migraine. What could get worse.

“Are you just going to sit there and watch me die a slow and painful death? I’m sure you would enjoy that.” I lightly chuckle to myself. Trying to make a joke out of my impending doom hoping it might make me feel slightly better.

“I have better things to do with my time.” Her eyes roll slightly, losing the smile she just had, and I strangely miss it, it was comforting in a weird way…a sign I’m not in complete danger. Maybe I'm delusional, these side effects are heavy and I can't exactly think clearly.

“Like… Babysit me?” I mumble sarcastically, trying to revive that hidden cheshire cat smile underneath the fake one painted on her face. It’s hideous, but her real one is not so repulsive, either that or I really am losing the plot. “You have beautiful eyes…” I whisper as I stare at her like someone on molly, and all I can concentrate on is how her eyes are piercing through mine, reading all my thoughts like a book. A familiar understanding that I don't quite know the extent of. Shared pain?She is a book with empty pages, but I'm a book with a plain cover and thousands of unspoken words inside which she is clearlyreading. I focus on the silver jewellery scattered across her face now that she is close enough to look at properly.

“You’re hallucinating.” She loosely breaks contact, staring down at the grubby floor beneath her boots, like my words disgust her.

“As I'm taking myself out. Do I get to know your name? Not exactly like I can snitch on you now…” My vision is beyond repair at this point, tripping as my lids quiver and my words become shallow and desolate, whispers of the dead walking.

“Nice tryPrincess.” She uses these nicknames like we are friends.

“Worth a shot…” I ponder. Trying to numb this incessant pounding. Appreciating the quiet so I can sink in my self-loathing.

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