A/N: This is my first attempt at a fanfic. LOL. Please review, no flaming though. I prefer constructive criticisim.
O.K., well, this takes place a few hours after Brigitte is locked in the celler. And it's considering thatin the end of GS2 the whole Ghost narrative didn't happen. To the lyrics of Evanescense's Tourniquet. It's pretty depressing, and has a little language, but I think PG-13 is a good enough rating.
Disclaimer: Plot's mine, but nothing else is. Characters belong to whoever the hell the belong to. And the song lyrics belong to Evanescense.
Enjoy.
I tried to kill the pain, but only brought more.
It took two tries for Brigitte to sit up, pulling herself into a siting position against the wall.
(so much more)
She wasn't sure how long she'd been down here, listening to Ghost shuffle across the floor, cleaning the up the blood and what not.
All she knew was that the change was getting closer. She could feel herself changing, slowely but surely becoming every bit the werewolf that her sister had become. Only, unlike Ginger, her final transformation was going slowely, most likely because of the monkshood.
I lay dieing, and I'm pouring, crimson regret, and betrayal.
Brigitte reached up to touch her face. Canine features were starting to form, her nose was almost snout-like now, and she could feel sharp fangs on the inside of her lips.
She could hear Ghost talking to herself upstairs, but couldn't make out the words. God, how she hated Ghost right now.Was this what she was planing from the begining? Had she really planned to use Brigitte as a tool in her twisted comic-view of
reality? Hell if she knew.
I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming. Am I too lost to be saved? Am I too lost? My God, my Tourniquet, return to me salvation.
A sudden burst of pain shot up her spine, making her cry out, and sending tears from her eyes. "Ginger," she whispered to the air. Calling to her sister had always been her natural response to pain.
The shadowy image of her sister appeared before her. Ginger's presence helped, eased the pain a little. So what if it was only Brigitte's imagination, and that her ever beloved sister wasn't, and wouldn't be, coming to comfort her?
"We had a pact, Bee. You were only supposed to love me."
"The pact died when you did, Ginger. And I nev-," Brigitte cut herself off as she let out another cry of pain. She realized her spine was starting to curve.
Will you remember me, lost for so long. Will you be on the other side, will you forget me?
She started to pray. She didn't even believe in God, hadn't for years, yet she prayed for the pain to stop.
All of the sudden the smell of blood filled her nose. Alice's. She looked over at the corpse, blood seeping from her head.
Alice hadn't deserved to die. Sure, she'd annoyed Brigitte, but she thought she was helping. At least Alice meant well. But Ghost had fucked her over too.
"You know there's only one way to stop it Bee."
My God, my tourniquet, return to me salvation.
"I know," Brigitte said as she half crawled over to the matress in the middle of the floor, picking out one of the pieces of glass that the other, now dead, werewolf hadn't landed on.
My wounds cry for the grave.
Tears were now streaming down her face. She couldn't do it before, could she do it now.
She lifted her wrist to her face to search for a vein. Her skin was now a leathery light-brown color, hair sprowting along her arm. There was no way she'd see a vein.
My soul cries for deliverence.
Cringing, she dug the glass into her skin, as far as she could possibly force herself to, turned it and pulled it out.
Brigitte layed on the floor, trying to let go.
"Bee, the blood heals it"
Oh, ya. She picked the glass up again an dug it back into the wound.
"Together Forever, Bee"
Together Forever, Ginger. Brigitte thought, as she slowely lost consciousness, more of her own will, than loss of blood.
Will I be denied? Christ, Tourniquet, my suicide.
A/N:Well, that was it. Don't know how good it was, so please tell me!
