"Heavenless"

53. Denial at Flood Stage

The sense of being on the brink, of having a lack in resorts draped over her lethargy unlike she had ever known. Brigitte simply laid in bed, watching that little crack on the ceiling, imagining the Beast of Ontario moving along that wobbly line, headed towards the light fixture, where she was – a light, bright enough to blind her, slowly burning away the last of her fuel.

She did go to the bathroom in one last attempt to cut herself, wait until the blood loss brought her to the brink of losing consciousness and then inject another dose. Her body reacted more violently than she thought it would, with her arms trembling badly enough to spill droplets of red everywhere. Both of her arms had purplish needle marks on them now. Some part of her thought it matched the color of her supposed cure.

Heh. Cure. What a fucking joke. Calling it a cure was nothing but denial at flood stage – the dam was broken and the river would be unleashed, and soon. Nothing could stop it.

She picked up the notebook and flipped through the pages she had practically memorized, out of not wanting to do anything else. She came across two dried up branches of monkshood taped to the page. It read, This purple herb is going to save her.

How, she wanted to ask, this purple herb isn't saving me. It's killing me, she wanted to say. It's slowly killing me.

Ginger's ghost came and tapped at a line on the opposite page. Brigitte could have smiled, if she thought she had it in her.

Ginger says "Killing is like SEX, she can't STOP IN THE MIDDLE."