He had finally turned him against her. Of all the people in the asylum Sister Jude had always been able to rely on Monsignor Howard but now Arden had got to him. She had always hoped that if it came to Timothy having to choose between her and Arden then he would pick her but now, well she didn't know what to think. Goodman was dead. She had no way of proving who Arden really was and no way of convincing Timothy to let her stay. It was all getting to her, she could feel herself unravelling, the drinking, picking up strangers at bars, it felt like someone was squeezing the last bit of normality out of her.
She had no idea how she had ended in that bathroom but she knew what she wanted to do. To her it seemed the only way out. She made sure the door was locked before she took the razor apart. Having the little blade in her hand gave her some sense of power, like she actually had control of something in her life after all. She looked in the mirror, looking at the wrinkles around her eyes and the stress lines around her mouth. Maybe he had been right after all, maybe she had lost her way.
"I'm all that place had to keep it together" she whispered to herself. She knew she shouldn't think about it but as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was going to miss the place. In her heart she wanted Timothy to come bursting through the door, to sweep her off her feet but she knew it wouldn't happen, she knew that he was too under Arden's thumb. She looked down at the tiny blade held between two quivering fingers. She pressed it gently onto her wrist and just held it there for a moment. Feeling the metal against her skin was like a wake up call but it was as if her brain wasn't listening any more. She watched the blade cut into her skin, but it felt like she was watching from above, not in her body, it seemed so unreal. She ignored the blood flowing out of one wrist as she worked on the other.
After a while she couldn't feel anything and was amazed by the fact that she was still standing. Sometimes she wished that her brain was less active as her legs gave out under her and she ended up on her back. For once there were thoughts buzzing around in her head, no silly little plans for the asylum waiting to be applied, there was just her and a sense of emptiness. she didn't bother trying to get up because she knew that if she even made it up she would back down again almost instantly. She could feel the blood pooling around and beneath her, soaking into her dress.
"This is it I guess". She hadn't realised that she had managed to get the words out. One thought had entered her mind. She was back to thinking about the Monsignor, Timothy, and how he had decided to send her away. She thought about how devastated she had been. The fact that she had been crying as she packed. There was not a person still alive that had made her cry.
She was starting to see black now; it was creeping in on her slowly like a veil dropping slowly over her face. Before she completely gave into the darkness she had one last thought flit through her brain, just for a moment.
I'm all they had, she thought, all they had to keep the place running, to keep it safe from Arden and they threw me away.
