Double Helix

chapter ten
~ hades ~

Cool palms pressed against tired eyes. The gesture didn't ease her discomfort in the least. All she could do was moan her pain quietly into the darkness. The room was spinning again. The walls would slowly move in one direction then suddenly jump back to their previous position only to repeat the process all over again. She felt like she had been watching this pattern for hours.

It was making her nauseous.

Closing her eyes, repositioning her body, propping herself up on her pillows... nothing seemed to help curb the feeling and she desperately longed for sleep. Just a few short hours of sleep...

Meryl rolled over and felt dampness against her cheeks. She was crying again. If she wasn't sobbing, she was throwing up. If she wasn't throwing up, she was obsessing about her situation and wishing for a miraculous rescue or a quick death. Sleep was the only moment of peace she had anymore, and now even sleep was eluding her.

She was in hell.

Doubt filled her mind, fueled by the flood of hormones raging through her system and a constant sense of fear. No one was coming for her. Surly if Vash was looking for her he would have found her by now... wouldn't he? She had been holding onto the hope of being found... of being rescued for weeks now... months... If he was looking for her... she would have heard something... noticed something...

Right?

That… that she-man told her that all her friends thought her already dead. Meryl was nothing but a corpse as far as the rest of the world was concerned. He went on to tell her that although she wasn't technically dead, yet, she would never leave this place alive. She would die in Canaan and Eleandra the Crimson Nail would be the one to kill her.

She hated Eleandra. Almost more than she hated Legato.

Eleandra the freakish she-man had happily told Meryl about how he looked forward to the time when he would see her impaled upon one of his "precious nails." How thrilling it would be to watch her die a slow, painful death. He even went on to tell her a lovely tale about a man known as Vlad the Impaler from ancient Earth history, just to add more spice to his verbal torture. Then he had smiled at her. A cheery, feminine smile that showed rows of perfectly white and perfectly straight teeth.

She hated him.

The moment he smiled at her she spit on him. It was the only moment of pleasure she had since arriving. Satisfaction coursed through her veins as she watched his expression change from sadistic delight to shock and disgust to pure fury.

Without wiping his cheek clean, he backhanded her in return. Meryl spun and stumbled backwards, landing hard on her hip. If Knives hadn't witnessed the exchange she was certain that the she-man would have given her more than a bruised cheek and sore left hip. Meryl regretted not angering the she-man further. Perhaps if she had pushed him far enough he would have killed her, thus saving her the trouble.

As much as she hated the concept of suicide, she was quickly coming to the conclusion that death seemed like the only option to her anymore. If Vash wasn't coming for her, if they all thought she was dead, what hope did she have? Death was the only surefire way to be free of Knives and his sadistic group and to kill the thing growing inside her.

The dizziness that plagued her finally began to lesson as the spinning of the room slowed down enough for Meryl to close her eyes without feeling like she was on verge of puking. The thing. The parasite. She hated that, too. It felt like it was sucking away all her energy. She could barely move without feeling completely exhausted.

She felt like she was already dying.

The doctor told her that what she was feeling was normal. "All pregnant women experience what you are describing," he said.

Meryl knew better and wanted to strangle him for saying such a thing. She was not pregnant. She was diseased. It was unnatural! It wasn't of her flesh and blood. She wasn't pregnant. She had a parasite inside of her and it was killing her! It was consuming her, and when it was done, it would become a monster just like him.

She hated it. She hated herself for being a "compatible host" to it. She hated the way her flesh felt under her own hands. She hated the way her body so readily accepted it like it belonged there... like she was meant to have it inside of her. More than anything, she wanted it to die and be flushed from her body. She didn't care if Knives or that she-man killed her for her actions. Her life wasn't worth living with it growing inside of her anyway. And the shame... she didn't think she could live with the shame.

She already tried to abort it once, but Knives stopped her before she could finish the job. If she didn't hesitate... if he had come just a minute later... Meryl was certain she could have killed the thing. She would have to act quicker next time. If she couldn't abort it, she would kill herself before it had a chance to be "born." She'd been watching, observing. Meryl knew the doctor's routines and where he kept his equipment and drugs. Her opportunity was coming; she would just have to be patient.

Her time would come.

As sleep finally began to overtake her, Meryl allowed herself a brief, self-mocking smile. One way or another, this would all be over soon.

• • •

His hands felt unnaturally warm when he gripped Meryl's arm, anticipating a struggle. Violet eyes remained fixed in place as she stared at the far wall.

"How have you been feeling this week, Ms. Stryfe?" he asked as he swabbed her arm.

"The same," she answered automatically.

The needle penetrated her skin. Blood quickly filled one test tube. Then another.

"Nauseous?" he asked.

A nod.

He pressed a cotton ball against the prick in her arm. "Dizzy?"

Another nod.

The doctor eyed her closely, "You have some circles under your eyes. You're still having trouble sleeping?"

"Every night."

"I see," he applied a band-aid to the small wound. "How's your appetite?"

"I can't eat."

Frowning, the doctor asked, "Because of the nausea?"

Meryl made no reply.

The doctor sighed as he reached for his clipboard. "You know, if you continue to refuse to eat he'll just have me confine you here and feed you intravenously again."

He eyed her for a moment waiting for some sort of reaction. Seeing none, he shook his head. "Meryl, you and I both know how this is probably going to turn out for you. Why make these last few months even more difficult for yourself?"

Meryl clenched her jaw tightly as tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to respond. To his credit, the doctor let the subject drop and quietly placed a tissue in her trembling hand.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he said.

"No you're not," Meryl whispered, her throat tight. "I'm an experiment to you. Don't insult me by pretending to care, because I know that you don't. You're just as much a monster as he is." She glared at him for a brief moment with unveiled hate before tearing her eyes away, "No, I take it back. You're worse. You're human."

The doctor regarded her with an odd expression on his face, his mouth hanging slightly open. She could sense that he wanted to say something, to refute her claims, but there was no use. He knew the truth when he heard it and she was a little surprised by his silent confession.

"Please go stand on the scale," he ordered.

Meryl complied.

Dr. Conrad made note of the measurement on his clipboard before pulling out a tape measure. "Raise your arms, please."

The examination complete, the doctor instructed Meryl to relax and wait a few moments until he returned. The woman nodded, violet eyes once again fixed in an unseeing stare.

With the click of the door, Meryl immediately got to her feet.

Every second counted.

A wave of dizziness attacked her, nearly sending her to the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut as she begged the sensation to pass, then nearly cried with relief when it did. Time mocked her, sending a fresh wave of adrenaline through her body. Without hesitation, she pulled at the drawer she knew contained scalpels. Realizing that the drawer was locked, she pulled again, with both hands. It was no good. Grabbing the pen that Conrad left behind she tried to jam the lock with its metal tip. She didn't know what he hoped to accomplish with the act, but she was growing desperate.

In disgust, she threw the pen to the floor and gave a frustrated whine. How could this be happening to her? He would be back soon. If she didn't get the drawer open now she may never have another chance.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Meryl repositioning herself, placing one foot on the cabinet and both hands wrapped tightly around the drawer handle. Either that drawer would open, or Meryl would rip the handle off. Either way, she had to try. With a pained grunt, she pulled with all her weight. Then with a loud POP! the drawer gave way and Meryl stumbled backwards and fell hard on her backside. All around her lay various medical tools, included the very item she wanted most.

Time was running out. They must know what she was planning. Without a doubt, they were listening to her thoughts now and all the noise was a dead giveaway. They would be coming for her. She had to do it now.

Meryl grabbed the scalpel nearest to her and held it tightly against the narrowest part of her arm. She didn't even realize she was crying until she saw a tear splash against her exposed wrist. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Meryl hesitated for just a second before digging the scalpel deep into her skin and pulled it forward, creating a diagonal cut toward herself.

Breathing hard from the pain, she prepared to cut herself again when the door flew open. Dr. Conrad and Knives froze at the sight of her, each with an expression of shock and horror washing over their features.

Meryl paused as she peered at the plant. 'Is Knives... surprised?'

Too Vash-like eyes bore into hers and she winced. "What the hell are you doing!"

Rough hands grabbed her injured arm and pulled her up violently. The scalpel fell from her hands in a clatter.

"I'm going to kill it," she whispered.

Knives' fingers dug deeper into her flesh as his anger mounted, further tearing the wound. Thunder vibrated within her breast, bringing her a small taste of hope. She could feel her blood pouring out of her with every thump of her heart.

Perhaps she succeeded after all...

The world spun when she was forced to her feet and shaken violently. Cringing, Meryl's eyes blurred as the dizziness returned.

He was yelling at her. Screaming. She blinked, forcing herself to focus. Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled. Tender flesh bruised under his fingertips as he shook her once more. The pain was gone. Sound was beginning to fade away. Only the delightful feel of her blood pouring out of her registered in her mind.

The last thing she remembered before passing out was the look of rage mixed with fear in his ice-blue eyes.