Post by Jack Lupus on Jun 29, 2007 22:58:21 GMT -5
Cassandra whimpered and argued with herself for a long time but Xander never came back from the hospital and she took that as a sign. She hadn’t been sober since Carrie got shot and the drugs are cold comfort for the looks Xander shoots in her direction.
She’s already lost him. She can tell, even though she can’t remember how to tie her shoes most days. Most nights she doesn’t bother going home and when she does she’s so drunk she has to crawl through the door.
She can’t go on like this much longer, and she won’t have to. The hospital should really have better security. The syringe and silver nitrate were child’s play to steal even if she had been tweaking.
Her hands shook when she filled the syringe but they were steady when she slid the needle beneath her skin. She read somewhere that the more violent a suicide the more it’s meant as a kick in the face to the survivors: ‘this is how bad I wanted out’. The liquid burned in her veins, like fire, like molten lead, and all she could do for the first thirty seconds is scream.
She can’t do this, it hurts too much. Her hand fumbled for the razor blade and sliced through her wrists, emptying out the silver and her life at the same time. All she needed is a few more minutes but the front door opens and she knew it was Xander.
But it’s not and Jack just stared at her with this far away look in his eyes and suddenly he was crying and cursing because he touched her blood and it burned him.
“f**k you, Xander.” She managed to whisper. “This is your fault.”
Jack turned, calling the hospital, praying, praying, knowing it’s too late but praying all the harder because of it.
“Just keep her alive.” Jack begged the paramedics. “Please, God, don’t let her die.” He knows it too late but he keeps hoping, hoping, until he’s alone in the apartment with the smell of blood and burnt flesh.
And in an instant, the panic and the fear turned into rage. What the f**k had Xander done to her? How f**k**g dare he? He couldn’t talk though, couldn’t call Xander’s cell. He wiped at his eyes only to find he was still crying.
“f**k Xander.” Jack found himself agreeing with her, speeding towards the hospital. “This is all his fault.”
The hours passed and he knows she’s gone, he can feel it in the air, like a heaviness that won’t go away. His cell phone weighs too much for such a small piece of plastic and his fingers are numb when he dial’s Xander’s number.
She’s already lost him. She can tell, even though she can’t remember how to tie her shoes most days. Most nights she doesn’t bother going home and when she does she’s so drunk she has to crawl through the door.
She can’t go on like this much longer, and she won’t have to. The hospital should really have better security. The syringe and silver nitrate were child’s play to steal even if she had been tweaking.
Her hands shook when she filled the syringe but they were steady when she slid the needle beneath her skin. She read somewhere that the more violent a suicide the more it’s meant as a kick in the face to the survivors: ‘this is how bad I wanted out’. The liquid burned in her veins, like fire, like molten lead, and all she could do for the first thirty seconds is scream.
She can’t do this, it hurts too much. Her hand fumbled for the razor blade and sliced through her wrists, emptying out the silver and her life at the same time. All she needed is a few more minutes but the front door opens and she knew it was Xander.
But it’s not and Jack just stared at her with this far away look in his eyes and suddenly he was crying and cursing because he touched her blood and it burned him.
“f**k you, Xander.” She managed to whisper. “This is your fault.”
Jack turned, calling the hospital, praying, praying, knowing it’s too late but praying all the harder because of it.
“Just keep her alive.” Jack begged the paramedics. “Please, God, don’t let her die.” He knows it too late but he keeps hoping, hoping, until he’s alone in the apartment with the smell of blood and burnt flesh.
And in an instant, the panic and the fear turned into rage. What the f**k had Xander done to her? How f**k**g dare he? He couldn’t talk though, couldn’t call Xander’s cell. He wiped at his eyes only to find he was still crying.
“f**k Xander.” Jack found himself agreeing with her, speeding towards the hospital. “This is all his fault.”
The hours passed and he knows she’s gone, he can feel it in the air, like a heaviness that won’t go away. His cell phone weighs too much for such a small piece of plastic and his fingers are numb when he dial’s Xander’s number.