Chapter Four
When Poison woke again it was dark, as usual. Funnily she found herself more of a night person than a day person. She heard the familiar voice, although this time it sounded distant as though he was not anywhere near the house.
"Poison you have got to stop fighting. Let go. You don't belong with them. You belong with me."
"Get out of my head," She screamed, closing her eyes and clutching her head. "I don't belong to anyone."
Quickly lighting a lamp, Poison leaped out of her bed and raced into the nursery. Oddly she found comfort there. She stood in the doorway dumbfounded by what she saw. Straight in front of her clear as day was an image of Poison and her husband, Nathaniel looking over the cot. Nathaniel was standing behind Poison, hands on her heavily pregnant stomach. They looked so happy.
Poison remembered this scene as if it had happened moments ago. Poison lost hold over herself and slowly reached out her fingers towards the image, then the image before her disappeared into a soft mist.
Poison left the nursery, slightly depressed at being reminded of her happy past and not being able to relive it. She wandered into the kitchen to get a drink before going back to bed. On entering the kitchen another image appeared before her. Poison stood staring wide-eyed. It was her again, lying on her bed this time, perfect white sheets lay under her, matching her perfect white nightie.
She was lying halfway down the bed, legs slightly sprawled although her nightie covered anything obscene. Royal red blood pooled between her legs, covering the bottom of her nightie and the white sheets. Poison stood in silence remembering the emotional and physical pain of her first miscarriage. Then the cries began. It was too much for Poison; she felt the bile rising in her throat and reached the sink just in time to throw up. When Poison looked up the image was gone, but she could still here her own cries echoing in her head.
Now extremely exhausted, Poison wandered back into her room only to be met by another image. One she knew extremely well. Dracula was standing in a clearing in the woods, exactly like he had been twenty years ago. Although this time he was smiling. Her father came into view and Poison felt tears well in her eyes, as she knew she was about to witness his death again. Instead of attacking Dracula, her father lunged towards a young woman.
The young woman was dressed like Dracula's Brides, but unlike his brides, her outfit was completely blood red and seemed to be made of silk rather than cotton, so it was not see-through like the other brides' outfits. Also this woman wore no jewellery, which was very odd as Dracula's brides had been covered in it before. Poison could not clearly see her face; all she noticed was the woman's wild red hair as she plunged into her father's neck.
Poison wanted to move, scream, shout, do anything to stop this image from playing, but something held her there, but it was neither fear nor shock. The young woman dropped her father on the ground after she had drained all his blood. She walked over to Dracula, who greeted her with open arms. She cuddled into his right side, and then both she and Dracula looked straight at Poison. Poison couldn't believe what she was seeing, the woman's facial features changed before her eyes, her hair became tame and brown and her eyes turned from deep brown to blue/green. The woman had turned into her, it was now her cuddled up with Dracula, her father's blood still present on her lips.
"No." Poison screamed, "It's not true. I didn't kill him. I'm not a monster."
The image disappeared before her eyes. Poison could feel sweat falling from her forehead and dripping down her face. Her pulse was racing and her breathing heavy. Poison stood for a while calming herself down. Suddenly she realised what she could do to stop being haunted by her memories.
Poison walked out into the kitchen, lamp still in her hands. She rested the lamp on the floor, and knelt next to it and fumbled around the cupboards, the lamp her only source of light. Finally she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a large knife that Nathaniel used to use to gut animals that he would catch on his hunting trips.
She stood up, knife in one hand lamp in the other. She walked to her front door and stared at the simple wood barrier that blocked her way to freedom, she opened it. Rain pelted down outside, Poison had been so enthralled by what she had seen that she hadn't even realised it was raining. Now she could hear it banging against the roof of her house.
She left the lamp inside and walked out into the rain. She closed the door and continued to walk towards the well at the centre of the town. The rain was hard and stung each time it hit her in the face. Her hair and nightie were completely drenched, she was so cold that her body had begun to shiver to try and gain warmth from the movement. Poison's bare feet were numb from the cold, but she continued to walk towards the well.
It was pitch black as there were clouds out and they were covering both the moon and the stars. But Poison knew exactly where she was going even in the dark she could seem to see the path she needed to walk. She stopped when she reached the well, sitting on the ground with her back leaning on its rim. She lifted her head towards the sky to let the rain hit her in the face and hide the fact that tears were falling down her face. Face dripping with water, Poison looked down at her hands. She studied the knife, and ran her fingers slowly up the blade, she turned it over in her hand to study the craftsmanship, it was a simple knife but Poison knew it would do the job.
Suicide was considered a horrific sin against God, and if the person was unsuccessful in killing themselves, they would be condemned to death. So Poison knew that if she failed in killing herself tonight she would be killed anyway. It was a ridiculous penalty, but tonight Poison was going to use it to her advantage.
She twisted her right wrist upwards so it was facing her, she raised the knife above it and starting from the left side, she dragged the blade horizontally across her wrist. Poison winced in pain as the knife was dragged across her skin. Blood instantly began to pool from the cut and drip down her arm. She took the knife in her other hand, and dragged the knife across her right wrist.
She turned towards the well and threw the bloodied knife down into the water. If someone wanted to kill themself in Transylvania all they really had to do was wait until the vampires feeding time, although some had hung themselves after loosing loved ones to vampires. Poison did not know how to tie a noose and something told her slitting her wrists would be a more effective method, although she did not know why. To her knowledge no one had tried to kill themselves by slitting their wrists before, possibly because the knowledge of how the body works and were it bleeds from the most is limited. This method seemed to be working; Poison could almost feel the life being drained from her.
The cold hard water stung the cuts on Poison's wrists. She was straddling the fine line between pleasure and pain; the stinging pain from her wrists and the pleasurable thought that soon it would all be over.
