Poison Ivy
The world spun in green tones. Emerald pain, olive sorrow, mint envy. They all swirled around me in a tantalizing roar, chocking me, whispering their secrets in silence. Grass swirled around me, tickling my skin. There was grass. Violent images flashed through my head. The pain was burning me, fingers clawing at the grass while poisons and toxins had rushed through my body. I had been naïve, wide eyed and open minded. And Dr. Jason Woodrue had known, using me as some sort of experimental dummy. The image flashed, hues of green once more floating past my closed eyes. Red. I could almost hear my friend squeak, trying to warn me of what to come. But I hadn't listened. The plants- Dr. Woodrue- had sang louder in the end. Red. I wished she would go away; leave me to float in a green world. Red. Why had she been right? She was a psychiatrist; it was her job to figure people out. RED. Everything began to speed up, green pulsing like a strobe light. Red. Green. Red. Green. RED. My eyes flew open. Thick trees blocked the sunlight overhead, sunlight wafting through the foliage. Dirt was in piles around me, lines clawed in from my fingers. Everything seemed sharper, clearer somehow. My bones were roasted in acid, spit out and shoved inside my skin. My hands, weak and fluttering twitched at my side, out of my vision. I slowly sat up, marveling at how the world spun with the slightest motion. I could feel my hair, long and red fluttering around my face in loose curls. My body was long and bare in the shade, only a few strands of poison ivy wrapped around me in a weak dress. That's when I noticed something was off. My skin, usually pale and translucent glowed green, green like a plant. With a gasp I knotted my discolored fingers in my hair, knocking aside small pink blossoms and strands of grass. Dr. Woodrue. He had injected me with plant poisons, toxins. But I was alive, and was going to get revenge. I felt my lips, now plump and red curl into a smile, running my tongue over pointed white teeth. I slowly climbed to my bare feet, ignoring the strands of fire that coursed through my bones. I stumbled over my long legs and sat in silent surprise as a plant burst from the ground like a rocket to break my fall. The flower slowly rose up from the floor as silent as a shadow, branches and trees bending to make way for me. Gotham spread about below me, expanding in a maze of steel. What a sad state our world was in. I silently slipped back to the ground, feet silent against the floor. A piece of plastic glinted in the light, white against the olive foliage. I picked it up, letting it dangle from my fingers. Dr. Pamela Isley it read. My jaw tightened. The girl on it, with glasses, frizzled red hair and a mousy face was weak. She was dead. I smiled to myself. I was she, yet I was not dead. I grinned and twisted a piece of ivy off of my dress. Dr. Isley was dead, but Poison Ivy was very much alive.