Short (ish) one shot. Very dark. Likely a trigger for some people.
"Mrs Connor, I'm sorry but there's nothing we could do. The baby- she was dead upon your impact with the floor. I'm told that you were unaware of your pregnancy but you have a right to know. You were three months pregnant. It's important to know that it isn't your fault and..."
The doctor continues to ramble as Carla just stares forward, blankly, unable to comprehend everything that has happened in just the last few hours.
She had been so happy.
So happy.
But, of course it couldn't last. She is Carla Connor after all.
She doesn't even listen to the doctor because she's just rambling nonsense. That's all it is.
Nonsense.
Because, it just doesn't matter.
Nothing does.
Not since she heard those words, once again.
"She."
"Three months pregnant."
"I'm sorry."
Yet again, she was given the chance to cherish a life, to look after her and love her. Yet again, the chance was cruelly taken away from her. Yet again, she failed.
Failed to protect her.
Failed to keep her alive.
Failed as a mother.
But, again, this is just another harsh reminder. She isn't one.
"You're not a mother. You don't understand."
Those fatal words. Those fatal words were some of the last she heard before it happened.
Before everything changed.
Before her chance to have a child was, once again, cruelly ripped away from her, leaving her with nothing but the reminder that she is Carla Connor.
She isn't a mother.
She doesn't have a child.
She doesn't have anyone. Anyone who cares about her. Anyone to care about.
Because, simply put, she's not capable.
Not capable of love.
Not capable of anything.
All she brings is destruction.
She destroys the lives of everyone near her, leaving a trail of pain in her wake.
These are the only thoughts that rush through her mind as she picks up the knife and slowly draws it closer to her skin.
She wants to keep holding on. She wants to stay strong. But, she isn't.
All she is is weak. And that's all she'll ever be.
This is her last thought before a single tear drops down her face as she drives the knife into her own stomach, dropping to the floor as the blood seeps throughout the carpet of her apartment.
At least she won't hurt anyone anymore.
Because there's no one to hurt. She's alone.
And she knows it's better this way.
It isn't the 'easy way out'. It's the kinder way out.
Kinder for Nick. Kinder for Gail. Kinder for everyone she's ever or would of hurt.
These are her last thoughts before she dies.